Directory Flute Summer Programs

If your program was not included in the February listing, you may still submit using the form or by emailing advertising@theinstrumentalist.com and we will be updating the online listings and printing an addendum in the April issue.

Photo above courtesy of Smith Walbridge Clinics

Thumbnail picture courtesy of Iowa Summer Music Camp

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In 2008, after 23 years in the Paragould School District, I accepted the position of director of bands at Riverview High School in Searcy, Arkansas. Since it was the school’s first year fielding a varsity football team, starting a marching band was one of my responsibilities. When interviewing for the job, I found it an intriguing thought to start a marching program from scratch.

The summer practices were sporadically attended. Most of the contact numbers I had were incorrect, and there was a great deal of uncertainty about which students would participate. It became obvious that we wouldn’t really get started until the first day of school when I finally met everyone.
The behavior of the kids who showed up during the summer left a lot to be desired. After one rehearsal, I commented to a student that we were going to have to be a lot more disciplined and focused if we wanted to succeed. To which the student responded, “Wait until Davion gets here. You’ll never be able to control him.”

They weren’t far from wrong. Davion, a freshman, was disagreeable, sullen, and smart-mouthed with no filter that I could detect. I tolerated his behavior and that of others because I was the third director the band had had in four years; I was like the step-father they didn’t want in the first place. Quite a few quit.

Yet Davion remained, as disrespectful as ever. I seriously considered kicking him out several times, but one thing kept going through my mind – he was still there. He could have quit like the others, but he stayed. There was something that kept him there even though I didn’t have the foggiest idea what it was. Not only that, he gave his best effort when learning and memorizing his trumpet music – which I didn’t understand given his demeanor. I decided to ride the Davion wave for as long as I could and see what happened.

Amazingly enough, a painfully slow but steady transformation began to take place in Davion over the next few months. The sullen and disagreeable young man became more positive and cooperative. One Friday on game night, he introduced me to the youth pastor at his church. It became evident that the people from his church had a positive and profound influence on him. Our daily interactions and conversations gradually turned from confrontational to pleasant and entertaining. Davion’s great personality became more evident, particularly when he was sharing his opinionated yet hilarious takes on things. Over the next three years, Davion became a rock solid band member who always gave his best and set a great example for others in a program that was just in its infancy. He became one of my favorite students of all time.

After his graduation, Davion visited me on campus from time to time, always smiling and full of positivity despite serious health struggles that hampered his college pursuits and life in general. In the summer of 2023, we had lunch together; it was great to catch up more fully on the years since his graduation. Unfortunately, he died suddenly in November of 2024. Many of his dreams were unrealized due to circumstances beyond his control.

But what he did realize was amazing – a unique and loving bond with so many different people. As with many of my former students, I only saw a small slice of his life. His funeral was a pew-packed, racially-diverse collection of people all touched by his life of faith. To see his impact on others was enlightening and inspirational. There were tears, there were laughs, and many nods from the audience as speakers recounted their Davion stories.

During the funeral, I recalled my most memorable moment with Davion. One day during his freshman year, after the months of butting heads had abated, he said to me, “We like each other now, don’t we?” Taken aback a little, I smiled and responded, “Yes, we do, Davion. Yes, we do.” I’m still not sure if he believed he had changed or that I had changed to make this transformation in our relationship possible. I suppose we were both looking for changes in each other and over time found what we wanted. And what we found made all the difference.

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We rediscovered some intriguing interviews by composers in our pages over the past 80 years. Here are their perspectives on composing, interpreting, and performing great music, and the journey that led to composing their own music.

Claude T. Smith
Claude T. Smith completed over 110 compositions for band, 12 orchestral works, and 15 choral pieces.

What makes for a great musical interpretation is often elusive. I always like to work for the correct and most musical interpolation. At times I feel I’m very good at it, and at other times I know I have missed completely.

When I was teaching in high school, I entered a brass choir in the state music festival/contest. We had prepared a work in great detail and were confident of our performance. The day came for us to be judged, so we have it our best. We felt sure that we had our I, the Superior rating. About an hour later, one of the members of the ensemble came flying down the hall with an incredulous look on his face. He said he had seen our rating, a II. I couldn’t believe it, so I went to the festival headquarters to review the rating sheet. For sure, our rating was a II. In reading down the adjudication sheet, I saw that all areas of the performance were graded I, except interpretation. A comment at the bottom of the sheet read: “Fine brass choir and good choice of music, but I didn’t care for your interpretation.” The fact that the judge didn’t like my interpretation was a real shock, for the selection performed was one of my compositions. (November 1982)

Libby Larsen
Libby Larsen is a Grammy award-winning American composer with a catalog of over 500 works in virtually every genre, ranging from intimate chamber pieces to large orchestra and opera.

“Early in my career, when I wrote the double barline at the end of a work, I considered the compositional pro-cess to be 100% complete. After gaining greater experience, when I finish this step, I consider the work to be about 93% complete.” When the piece is rehearsed for the first time, she often adjusts parts for better balance or transitions. “I do not consider the composition to be complete until the work has been presented to an audience.” (September 2010)

H. Owen Reed
H. Owen Reed was on the composition faculty at Michigan State University for nearly four decades. He lived to age 103 and is best known for La Fiesta Mexicana.

As you developed as a composer, were others much of an influence on you?
I learned much from the composers with whom I studied, including Helen Gunderson, Howard Hanson, Bohuslav Martinu, and Roy Harris. I studied 16th-century counterpoint with Gustav Soderland, and contemporary styles with Burrill Phillips, Aaron Copland, Stanley Chapple, and Leonard Bernstein. Even when our individual philosophies differed, each of those people greatly influenced my writing. During a long private session, Arnold Schoenberg convinced me to write my scores in C, a practice I continue today. Finally, I think most composition teachers would agree with me when I say that students are always a fertile source of inspiration.

What are the greatest challenges as you work to develop a piece?
I strive to write music that is strong in all five basic parameters: harmony, melody, rhythm, form, and color. The main challenge for any composer writing in any style is to maintain good balance between unity and variety. Even if these prerequisites are met, not everyone will like our opus.

After a fine performance of my For the Unfortunate at Michigan State University, one of my graduate composers commented that an older lady turned to her friend and said, “The only thing unfortunate about this piece is that it was ever written. Although this particular work features a free type of serial writing, tone clusters, an improvisatory percussion ensemble, and non-measured sections, most comments have been complimentary, and I still consider this work equal in quality to the well-received La Fiesta Mexicana. You win some and you lose some. (September 1998)

Martin Mailman
Martin Mailman taught for 34 years at the University of North Texas in Denton as Coordinator of Composition, Regents Professor of Music, and Composer in Residence.

How did your interest in writing music develop?
In high school I played trumpet and always sought the creative aspects of music. In a Literature of Materials class at Juilliard, the professor gave an assignment to write a little piece. The first class after we turned in the assignment, he asked, “Who’s Mail-man? I thought he wanted to usher me out the door, but he said my work was very good. I enrolled at the Eastman School as a trumpet major the following fall and later switched to composition.

How much is composing an innate ability or a skill that can be learned?
As a composition teacher of 40 years now, I’m still not sure I can answer that. I have been surprised by students so many times. As with a garden that blooms at different times, sometimes a person who I have great expectations for is later a great disappointment. Some others, I didn’t expect to be very good, but they turned out to be excellent composers. Everybody has a creative side to them – how much of this they have and how creative they are and committed to composing are variables.

A teacher can influence a student by being an example of someone who is creative and showing enthusiasm for their work. There have been students who really wanted to be composers, but I have had to explain that I didn’t think they should.

In working with students, I have been able to maintain a youthful vigor and a love for teaching. This is the only way I could repay what my teachers did for me when I was a novice composer.

How can high school or middle school directors encourage students to compose?
A splendid opportunity for them is to write something for just solo clarinet without accompaniment or a short little piece for two trumpets. If directors take a few minutes out of a rehearsal to let them perform the work for the band, this is a great way to get started. Writing a piece for full band is far beyond the skills of most people. Most of my early pieces were solos or songs and not for big ensembles. As I started having my pieces played or performed, composing became a vicious little habit. I became addicted to this for life. (October 1999)

Frank Ticheli
Frank Ticheli was Professor of Composition at the University of Southern California’s Thornton School of Music for more than 30 years.

How did band composition figure into your training at the University of Michigan?
Michigan has a strong legacy of band music, and one of my main teachers, Leslie Bassett, composed many works for wind ensemble. At some schools band music may be discouraged, but not at Michigan. I petitioned to write a dissertation composition for wind ensemble instead of orchestra, and it was granted without any fuss at all. Robert Reynolds conducted the premiere of the work.

I grew up playing trumpet in bands and orchestras in public schools in Louisiana and Texas and have always been part of always been a part of the band culture. As an undergraduate and master’s student, I didn’t write any band works because I wanted to branch out. I came back to band music midway through my doctorate, and in my late 20s, I composed a work for trombone and band, Concertino, and Music for Winds and Percussion for my dissertation.

After the doctorate, what prompted you to compose for young people?
After writing several band works that were extremely difficult, my first attempt at an educational piece, Fortress, was uncommonly successful. When bands started to invite me to guest conduct, I became hooked on working with young people and decided that this is part of what I wanted to do. I do not view writing music for young bands as an artistic compromise. I don’t mean to be melodramatic, but I believe that composers can contribute to society. If writing this music for students helps band directors to keep children off the streets, I’m proud of that. (June 2001)

Elliot Del Borgo
Elliot Del Borgo taught instrumental music in the Philadelphia public schools and was professor of music at the Crane School of Music, where he held teaching and administrative positions from 1966 to 1995. He wrote more than 600 compositions.

How did your studies with Vincent Persichetti help to shape you as a composer?
It was wonderful to learn from a musician of that stature. Persichetti was one of the first composers to treat bands as more than just orchestras without strings. His ability to write percussively without using a great deal of percussion has influenced many other band composers, and his scores typically call for smaller percussion sections than many contemporary pieces do.

The percussion parts are busy, though.
Yes, but they are so appropriate. He can provide a wonderful setting with just a few strokes on a wood block. His harmonic sense is also magnificent. I was fortunate enough to be a student of Persichetti’s when he completed his book on 20th-century harmony. We went through the whole text while it was still in manuscript form.

As a guide, that book is almost unequaled.
It contains so many logical concepts about 20th-century harmony, even though people will not be able to speak definitively on the subject for several more decades. His concepts of structure, tension, release, and harmony are never very far from me when I write. Persichetti’s band compositions did more to lift his recognition than anything else he wrote because so many band directors were hungry for new works. I remember playing his music for the first time as a student. It was so vital and fresh that people were drawn to it and wanted to hear more. (January 2002)

James Barnes
After studying composition and music theory at the University of Kansas, James Barnes had a long teaching career at the school. He has twice received the ABA Ostwald Award.

How would you program the perfect band concert?
First of all, the concert would be shorter than most I have sat through lately. Richard Bowles, retired Director of Bands at the University of Florida, gave me a great piece of advice about programming: set the program just the way you want it, then eliminate two of the pieces and shorten the concert. I have been to few band concerts that were too short. Fritz Reiner said that the perfect program includes a piece that you believe in, such as a new work or an older work that should be played more often; a piece that the ensemble enjoys; and a piece the audience wants to hear. This is excellent advice.

I regret that effective programming is quickly becoming a lost art among wind ensembles. It is an effort to sit through three or four college band concerts at a CBDNA convention. Poor programming is the reason that there are more people in the band that in the audience at many college band concerts. What a travesty. While I do not advocate a return to the concerts of 100 years ago, I do suggest that bands learn a wider variety of musical styles so students can play a broader scope of repertoire. A concert should include some music that the audience will enjoy. Symphony orchestras are careful to do this because they sell tickets to stay in business.

In my 25 years of conducting college bands, every program we played included at least one new piece, one band classic, almost always a featured soloist, and one good transcription. The band never played a concert without at least one march, even if only as an encore. Audiences will sit through anything if they know a march is coming later. I used to follow a contemporary work with a Sousa march as a sort of apology. The march is the only genre of music in which bands have a superior repertoire to any other ensemble. (November 2002)

William Schuman
In additional to his distinguished composing career, William Schuman served as president of the Juilliard School and the first president of Lincoln Center. He won the inaugural Pulitzer Prize for Music in 1943.

His Compositional Style
The most important element is form. I do not have form in mind before I write, a priori. Form is what happens next. What happens next must seem inevitable and at the same time it must be fresh. With Mozart, for example, when we just expect a plain recapitulation, he often gives us another development section. The form emerges as the material emerges. One section grows out of another, not in a preconceived way but in a natural way, just as the characters in a novel sometimes develop in the most logical way and other times, we feel the author has imposed his view of the way the characters developed.

Similarly, in music, the composer invents musical characters, such as a phrase, harmony, rhythm, orchestral device, timber, texture, indeed all the elements; these things take on a life of their own. What is required of a composer, is that when the work is finished, all of these combined things be brought to fruition in a way that makes unified sense.

Getting Started
When you ask me how I start a work, I can give you an example. I am working on a piece now that is exceedingly difficult. I set myself the goal of writing a duet for violin, which I have never done before. I was commissioned to do anything for clarinet: a concerto, a chamber work, anything. I suddenly fell in love with the idea of writing for these two instruments. Harmony is completely out except for implied harmony between the two instruments or when the violin uses double stops. In a sense there is implied harmony, but obviously, harmony is of very little use in that kind of composition.

Everything else has to be there: how to exploit the highs and lows in the instruments, or what contrast there will be. For example, if you just start off and go all over the place with the clarinet, you have not saved yourself. If you start in the chalumeau register, have dark colorings, have little movement, and the violin does something above, you have room to go someplace. I am purposely using an example with two instruments because with those two instruments, there are all the opportunities that exist with a symphony orchestra, only reduced to an absurdly simple level.

I do not know what I think of first when approaching a composition, but the single most thing to think of is the aural ambiance. This is only to say, what mood is this music trying to create? Is it an introduction? If so, what is it trying to introduce? In New England Triptych there is an introduction to the first movement that leads into a fast section. I wrote the fast section first, then realized that it needed an introduction and wrote the introduction. I usually write chronologically, but in that work I didn’t.

A composer should write with certainty. If the opening leaves the listener not knowing if the work is fast or slow, agitated or calm, or loud or soft, there is confusion. All music must be certain as to the atmosphere it creates. To me, that is the most important thing in composing. In the creative process for orchestral work, I might think of a theme or an instrumental combination, such as a brass choir or a brass choir with violins coming in above the brass, or I might start with the cellos above the violins. The emotion or feeling a composer tries to create is the essence of this aural ambiance.

I think in emotional terms and technical terms at the same time. I can give you no more of an answer than this. The reason I cannot give you a more definitive answer is that I cannot give myself a more definite answer. I only know that you are no better a composer than you are critic. The music that you issue is the music that does not go in the ash can. The more music you throw in the ash can, the more selective you are. The more selective you are, the stronger a composer you will be. (April 1986, published November 1993)

Morton Gould
Morton Gould’s prolific and admired works include Broadway scores, commissions by symphonic orchestras, and various musical honors.

When Mills Music took me on as a composer in the 30s and suggested that I write some band music, I must confess I turned up my nose at the idea. I said, “Why do I want to write for band? I’m having enough problems with the professional orchestras.” I was very young and was a little more volatile than I am now. I’d gotten into hassles as a young conductor, conducting men older than I was, arguing with them about intonation and tuning and so on – violent confrontations. And so I thought: I’m having enough problems right here, why should I have to deal with music for kids? But the general manager of Mills Music, Max Stark, convinced me to do part of a concert and introduce my Cowboy Rhapsody. I remember saying to Max Stark: “Max, why am I doing this?” And he said, “You’re going to be surprised, very surprised.”

I remember all this so clearly. I walked into Hill Auditorium and met Bill Revelli and he said, “Why don’t you go and sit in the auditorium. Let me warm the band up for you.” I sat down very skeptically and saw this huge band tuning up, which impressed me because they were obviously tuning. There was no horsing around about that. I had never heard a professional orchestra tune that way. Then Bill gave a down beat and this beautiful sound came out – a Wagner transcription. I fell right out of my chair because I had heard something that was equivalent in quality to the finest professional orchestras of that time. Within one minute, I was a convert. I realized what an important medium this was. I felt that I, the so-called serious or symphonic composer, wanted to be part of this. It stimulated me. From then on, as you know, I wrote a considerable amount of music in both large and small forms, and many of my orchestral works were transcribed by other people for band. Yes, I wrote for band, and to this day I find it a fascinating medium. (October 1978)

Clare Grundman
Clare Grundman studied composition with Paul Hindemith and also earned degrees at Ohio State University. In addition to his original compositions and arrangements for band, he wrote for Broadway, films, radio and television.

Advice for High School Students
To be good in any field, whether it may be art, literature, sports, or any else, you’ve got to start with the basics. For a composer, the basics are an understanding of harmony, theory, and counterpoint. Later, if you want to get away from the traditional framework, you can. But at least you have something to start writing from.

Then if you’re going to write for a certain medium, such as the band, you should really get into that medium. It’s hard for people to write or arrange for band when they haven’t played in it and don’t really know how it sounds. If they’ve only heard the band from the audience, sitting up front, they never learn what can and can’t be done, and exactly what combination of instruments sounds good or bad. Probably the best composition lesson is to listen to the colors and sounds of music while you’re sitting right in the middle of it all. (September 1982)

Jennifer Higdon
Jennifer Higdon has received commissions by major symphony orchestras and soloists. Her most popular work, blue cathedral, has been performed more than 400 orchestras around the world.

I first wrote for flute because my friends were flutists, and we played in flute choirs together. They were the people who were asking me for music. I am so thankful that I played an instrument. When composing, I seriously consider what it is like to be on the other side of the music stand and what performers are experiencing as they look at the page. My earliest successes were because flute players were so enthusiastic about new music.

In June 2002, the Philadelphia Orchestra premiered my Concerto for Orchestra, which had been commissioned in 1998, to celebrate the orchestra’s centennial in the newly built Kimmel Center. My life started to change almost overnight after that premiere, and I only played flute for a couple more years. I could tell that composition was the direction my life was supposed to go, and it felt like putting on an extremely comfortable pair of shoes. I was never aware that composers could have one concert that would actually change their lives. I had heard of that with conductors and performers, but never with a composer. It was completely terrifying. (November 2017)

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A Vision
It took an enthusiastic champion of American composers to tell us repeatedly that there were artists who could create, envision and embody the essence of America. For many years Andre Kostelanitz conducted the New York Philharmonic in pops concerts and recordings featuring American music ranging from musical comedy and film scores to symphonic works. In addition, he commissioned works from American composers William Schuman, Paul Creston, Virgil Thompson, and others, to convey the spirit of the country through music. He also believed that specific individuals and certain aspects of the American scene be chosen as subjects for these works including locations such as the Frontier, the Hudson River, and New England, and individuals such as author Mark Twain, journalist Dorothy Thompson, and New York City Mayor Fiorello La Guardia. These places and people were to exemplify the courage, dignity, strength, simplicity, and humor so characteristic of the American spirit.

Background
Aaron Copland was one of the commissioned composers and after first considering a work inspired by Walt Whitman, he ultimately chose Abraham Lincoln as the best subject for a musical portrait. He immediately realized, however, that no composer could possibly match through music so eminent a figure as Lincoln. As a result, he decided to call on Mr. Lincoln himself for assistance by using a narrator reading selections from his letters and speeches.

Since its premiere by the Cincinnati Orchestra in 1942 with radio actor William Adams as narrator, it has become a beloved piece in what is called the American style. In 1951, Walter Beeler, Ithaca concert band conductor and author of some 200 method books and transcriptions, arranged the piece for concert band. Since then, it has become a significant piece of repertoire not only for orchestra but for wind band as well.

Structure and Themes
Lincoln Portrait is neither program music nor a musical interpretation of a text, but rather a genuine portrait with a narrator as soloist. The composition is divided basically into three main parts. The first section is an evocative preamble suggesting Lincoln’s simplicity, gentle spirit, and humble personality. The middle section depicts the lively times in which he lived. The concluding part frames the immortal words of Lincoln himself.

Marked lento, the piece begins slowly and softly with a call or arch-like rising and descending motif that seems to come from nowhere, just as Lincoln did – mysteriously out of the wilderness. (In fact, a song heard during the 1860 presidential campaign was titled Old Abe Lincoln Came Out of the Wilderness). This original Copland material builds in volume and intensity to introduce the period 1840 folk song The Pesky Serpent, better known today as On Springfield’s Mountain (as recorded in 1949 by Burl Ives), treated freely rather than literally. With simple expression, this theme movingly expresses the feelings of majesty, strength, and sadness of heavy burden.

The lively middle section marked allegro begins suddenly, based on the perky tune Camptown Races and recreating the distinctive sound of a hoedown:

Gwine to run all night, gwine to run all day,
I’ll bet my money on a bobtailed nag,
somebody bet on the bay

This then becomes a more complex development treated as a round using On Springfield’s Mountain combined with Camptown Races as an obbligato.

As the tempo slows to poco largamente, the final section opens quietly as the narrator speaks the words of Lincoln, and we cannot escape history. The music neither interprets the words nor serves as background for them. Rather, there is an interplay of equals between the ensemble and speaker. There is an ongoing dialogue of words and music that frames them simply and impressively. At the conclusion, Copland provides music that towers with a majesty matching Lincoln’s vision – “government of the people, by the people, and for the people, shall not perish from the earth.”

Performance and Rehearsal Suggestions
The Beeler concert band transcription of Lincoln Portrait is 13 to 15 minutes in duration and is challenging rhythmically with exposed solo passages requiring a strong brass section. It is playable by the finest high school, university, professional, and military bands. The narration has been distributed worldwide, translated into eighteen languages. The luminaries who have delivered the text include Carl Sandburg, Marian Anderson, Eleanor Roosevelt, James Earl Jones, and William Warfield, who with Leonard Bernstein conducting the New York Philharmonic on their European U.S. tour during the 1976 American Bicentennial, spoke the words in flawless French, German, and Italian to tremendous ovations.
Preparation with younger students will benefit from careful rehearsal time and management including individual instruction and sectional practice due to the challenging rhythmical and solo demands. Of special note is the importance of securing a narrator who can pace delivery of the text within the musical framework. Listening to recordings can be helpful. Also, ample rehearsal is essential with the narrator and ensemble to ensure that the pacing of both music and recitation aspects align. Videos are also helpful for the conductor and narrator to get a sense of essential cueing and appropriate staging, setting, dress, and overall presentation.

Lincoln Portrait is in a class by itself. Copland himself thought of it simply as a portrait of Lincoln meant for a large audience and special occasion. His choice of Lincoln was based on the aura, time and history associated with him, and more importantly, his humanity and empathy.

This enduring and popular work provides an educational experience for students on several levels. Performances allow Copland’s brilliant music and the immortal words of Abraham Lincoln to continue echoing down the halls of time.

Article artwork by Thomas Trimborn

Tom Trimborn has conducted Lincoln Portrait numerous times most notably with Dr. William Warfield as narrator including a performance taped in California and telecast throughout Europe.

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Grip
Ames: I recommend the matched grip for students because of its versatility. Once you become a multiple percussionist; you’ll be expected to play everything. Because many of the mallet instruments require that you use a matched grip, it’s a lot easier to stay with that grip overall than to switch back and forth from one method to the other.

Peters: The controversy of matched grip versus rudimental grip can be resolved only by the individual percussion player, according to his specific needs. It is good to be familiar with both grips, but what really matters is what ultimately works best for you. For either grip, the most important thing is that it be firm but relaxed. Gripping the stick should feel natural and there should be no tension in the wrist or arm. If you feel comfortable with your present grip and can achieve good sound on the instrument, I recommend that you keep it.

Wickstrom: In playing snare drum I use mostly the traditional grip. I’ve played it since I was five years old and still seem to get more power from it than from matched grip, which I’ve only played for about 12 years. However, I find myself switching to matched grip for softer playing and when I play the snare drum as part of a drumset or another multiple percussion setup.

Rolls
Ames: I’ve developed what I believe is a “foolproof” method for learning rolls. It’s amazing. Some students can master a good-sounding roll in only a month. Since we have learned that smooth rolls are made up of triplets, the best way to learn a roll is to practice triplets with the sticks bouncing three times for every hand movement.

Starting slowly, let the sticks bounce three times just to get the feel of it. Then increase the speed gradually. Work for clarity and precision, but stay relaxed. Once you become tense, all anyone will hear are the strokes – and you will strain your wrists as well. To master the technique, you can build all sorts of little exercises for yourself using three strokes per stick.

Peters: The function of a roll on any percussion instrument is to sustain the sound of the initial stroke If one hand does not match exactly what the other hand does – such as lifting one stick higher, or moving one wrist faster – the result will be an uneven sound.

To help eliminate any inconsistency, first isolate the problem and then exaggerate it in both hands, one at a time. In this way you will become more conscious of executing identical motions in both hands. Also, your ear should tell you if your roll is producing an even sound or not, and for this reason a tape recorder can be extremely helpful in evaluating your practicing and in detecting unevenness of sound in rolls.

Ames: To improve your rhythm, always subdivide beats. When you play eighth notes, count sixteenths. It is very helpful and makes for great precision in all your playing. It noticeably improves accuracy in ritards and accelerandos. Sometimes students aren’t convinced that there is any difference between “almost right” and “absolutely right.” But there is a difference, and the problems created by “almost right” rhythm become painfully obvious in a group where each player is a little bit inaccurate.

Wickstrom: I like to use the metronome for instruction and practice. It can be used in many different ways, such as tapping quarter, eighth, or sixteenth notes. To develop an internal rhythmic pulse, set the metronome to only the downbeat of each measure. For jazz I’ll use the metronome clicking two beats to a measure, the second and fourth. I ask the student to think of it as a drummer’s high hat. Learning to read rhythmic notation is important, right from the beginning.

Versatility
Ames: I strongly urge getting plenty of experience playing many different instruments in a variety of styles because the percussion field is currently highly competitive. The more you play, the better your chances will be.

Peters: You’ve got to be absolutely first class on all the percussion instruments if you want more doors open to you in the professional music business. I was accepted into the band at West Point even though they had too many drummers – not because I was a superstar drummer, but because I was versatile. They gave me the job because they needed a percussionist who could also play marimba and timpani. If you limit yourself to only those instruments you can play well, you also limit yourself to fewer job opportunities in the percussion field.

Wickstrom: A percussionist today can be either a musician capable of performing on a wide variety of instruments in divergent areas or a virtuoso on one instrument in one field. The choice is ultimately each performer’s; background in all areas of percussion as a young player will give you the basis to make intelligent choices and to re-direct goals in performance throughout your life. I personally believe every percussionist should have some knowledge of snare drum, timpani, mallet keyboard percussion, and drumset.

Timpani
Peters: A good ear is essential for the timpanist. In fact, the ability to hear true harmonic intervals is the primary requisite for playing timpani because the intonation of the drums must be exact. The timpanist should learn to tune the drum with one reference pitch (from a tuning fork or from the tuning note of a band or orchestra) and then change pitches intervallically from that initial pitch. To check the exactness of your tuning, hum the desired pitch into the drum: when it resonates back the loudest, the intonation is as good as you can get it. I don’t approve of electronic tuning devices because they become a crutch for the ear.

The best playing area on the timpani head is generally about one-third of the distance from the rim of the drum to the center of the head. While playing, I prefer to sit on a stool because pitch changes can be made more efficiently.

Wickstrom: I began playing timpani by using the flat-handed matched grip identical to what I use on snare drum – referred to by many as the German style. Gradually, I changed to a thumbs-up or thumbs-almost up position, often called the French grip. I find that in playing timpani with this thumbs-up position, the stick comes up off the head as far as with the flat grip, and in addition there’s a certain wrist snap on impact that actually helps you take the stick off the drum.

I divide timpani lessons into technique, reading, repertoire (solo and ensemble), and of course, tuning Tuning is a big part of timpani playing. Mallet study, piano study, and singing all help with timpani tuning and help develop musicianship.

Mechanical knowledge of the instrument is invaluable. I play timpani in the Florida Philharmonic, and I try to get to every concert a half-hour early to check the drums. I make sure they haven’t been jarred, the posts are all in tune, and everything is functioning.

Snare Drum
Wickstrom: I believe there are two ways to develop technique on the snare drum: through work on rudi-ments and rudimental solos, and through using multiple bounce methods, such as Stick Control by George Lawrence Stone. I start a beginning student with a multiple bounce roll: I use it 99 percent of the time I play. But I won’t neglect the double-bounce rudimental roll, either.

Playing the snare drum is important for developing your hands for all percussion playing. Practice pads are helpful for working on your hands, but you can’t develop a snare drum sound with a pad, so it’s important to practice on the drum as well.

Mallet Percussion
Ames: For four-mallet percussion, work on broken chords in all keys with four mallets starting slowly and gradually increasing speed when possible, but without sacrificing accuracy. You can make up all sorts of exercises. For example, in C major, play C and G in the left hand with E and C in the right. Roll the chord, playing in a 1-2-3-4 pattern. Then try 1-3-2-1 or 1-4-2-3, and so forth. Proceed through all keys, major and minor.

After practicing the exercises, play easy keyboard music such as simple Bach chorales and other pieces that highlight the vertical quality of four-mallet playing. In really difficult technical passages, you can use two mallets and then return to the four when you can.

It’s important to learn about chords and harmonic progressions for improvising on vibes and marimba. Also, I recommend using a good etude book written for any instrument to help increase your musicality along with your technique.

Peters: Technical studies are important for the mallet player. When you play scales and arpeggios in practice, not only do you develop your technique but you also learn to recognize their occurrence in the music you play. Mallet players should have a balance between technique and sightreading ability. Weak sightreading can be strengthened only by doing a lot of it. When I was a student, playing duets with someone who read better than I did was an invaluable aid in improving my sightreading. A book I recommend to mallet players is Pasquale Bona’s Rhythmical Articulation (Carl Fischer), an excellent collection of studies to improve your phrasing and basic musicianship.

Wickstrom: There are many ways to hold mallets when playing marimba, bells, vibes, and xylophone. Fundamentally, in holding four mallets there are three principal techniques: the traditional or scissors grip, the Musser grip, and the Burton grip. I use the Burton grip in most of my playing but teach all three. Detailed descriptions and illustrations of these grips are in front of Volume II of my Keyboard Mastery for Mallet Percussion.

I start a mallet lesson with technical exercises, including traditional scales and arpeggios. Next we work on reading, including sightreading and re-reading for speed and accuracy. Taking a simple thing and playing it very fast is a good way to improve your sight-reading. Morris Goldenberg’s book Modern School for Xylophone, Marimba, and Vibraphone is good for a student past the beginning stages. Also, Bartok’s Mikrokosmos for piano are excellent. Because they’re written for young pianists, there are no large stretches for the hand and therefore no big leaps on the marimba. A good follow-up to that book is the Louis Moyse Little Songs for Beginning Flutists. The piano accompaniment gives the percussionist a chance to work with another instrument. “Music Minus One” records are also good for this purpose.
Another suggestion is to learn to read in all clefs, not just the treble clef. It will facilitate your reading and later “on the job” transpositions.

Double-stop playing is another important part of the lesson plan. One of the best books on this subject is Al Payson’s Double Stops for Mallet Instruments.

I think every part of the lesson should use all four mallets, even if it’s only for striking and rolling triads and other easy things. Creative Music Publishing has some good books by Bobby Christian and the Rubank Intermediate Method for marimba is good. Guitar music and two-part Bach piano music works well. Other good books that demonstrate this mallet technique are David Friedman’s Vibraphone Technique and The Solo Marimbist, Vols. I and II by James L. Moore and Linda Pimental.

Peters: The accessory instruments are probably the most neglected area of percussion playing. Inexperienced players often assume that they can play a bass drum, tambourine, triangle, and similar instruments if they can simply read the part. But it takes as much practice to play a cymbal crash correctly as it does to play a snare drum roll evenly. Take the time to experiment with each of the accessory instruments, playing as many articulations (staccato, legato, roll, etc.) as possible, pianissimo to fortissimo. Look to your percussion teacher and/or band director for advice. Two books that can be very useful in strengthening your playing on accessory instruments are Al Payson’s Techniques of Playing Bass Drum, Cymbals, and Accessories (Payson Products) and Morris Goldenberg’s Modern School for the Snare Drum (Chappell).

Additional Books
Ames: Two helpful background works that I recommend for every percussionist are James Blades’ Percussion Instruments and Their History (Praeger) and Emil Richards’ The World of Percussion (Gwyn Publications). Two exercise books I suggest are John Bergamo’s Style Studies (Music for Percussion) and Delecluse’s Complete Method for Vibraphone (2 vols., Leduc).

Wickstrom: A good rudimental book for snare drum is Odd-Meter Rudimental Studies by Mitch Peters; I especially like one piece, “The Downfall of Paris,” which is written in 58. For reading notation, Teaching Rhythm by Joel Rothman is very good and more thorough than any other book I’ve used with beginners. The book goes through all combinations of quarter and eighth notes and rests before moving on to anything else.

Final Advice
Ames: Playing with others will build your confidence and prepare you for different situations. And if you’re at ease, others will feel comfortable with you. Try to do as much ensemble playing as you can – there’s no substitute for it.

Listen to other musicians perform things you are working on. For example, if you’re playing a Bach violin partita with mallets, listen to some violinists play it and compare phrasing. Or if you’re doing a keyboard work by Bach, listen to Glenn Gould at the piano and compare interpretation. Those are the things that distinguish a really good musician from an ordinary one.

Peters: Listening is the single most important aspect of musicianship. The ear must be the ultimate guide. Whether practicing or performing, a player must listen to himself and constantly evaluate the sound he hears.

Wickstrom: I think piano study is basic for anybody going into a music school. You need it for theory and harmony classes and it’s required as a secondary instrument. The more proficient you can become in high school, the better off you’ll be in college. In general, the best type of experience for us all is playing, and it’s playing with other people that counts. The most successful people coming into the university are those who played in everything in high school. They were in marching band, concert band, jazz band, and symphony orchestra.

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My first exposure to note grouping came from Frances Blaisdell. In one of my first lessons, she asked me to play by memory a two-octave scale, with four sixteenth notes per pulse, slurred. Like most band-trained students, I accented the first note of each of the four sixteenth notes staying exactly in time with the metronome. My scale sounded plodding at best.

After I played, she sang a two-octave scale with these words: “I, am going home, to take a bath, to wash the car, to eat some food, to watch T-V, to feed the bird, to walk the dog.” Then she had me play the scale while she sang these words. We continued this duet until we had circled through all of the major scales using this note-grouping concept. Of course, when singing, she made octave adjustments here and there so the notes of the scale fit the range of her lovely voice.

Next, Blaisdell wrote out a two-octave scale on a piece of manuscript paper. She told me that the first note was called a solitaire, and the next notes were called 2,3,4,1. Above these notes she wrote a small bracket. She said these brackets were think marks and did not affect the articulation or rhythms of the printed music.

To help me master note grouping, she played the solitaire note. Then I played the 2341. We continued alternating throughout the scale with her playing one group of 2341 and me playing the following 2341. She encouraged me to be as sing songy as possible in order to learn to feel the notes leading into the 1.

At the time, I was also working on vibrato control, so she had me repeat this exercise and place a HAH on each of the printed notes and five HAHs on all the 1s. The HAHs were to be done in the larynx or vocal folds, and I was to have no movement in the abdomen or chest. If I sensed any movement other than in the larynx, I was playing too loud as HAHs were to be executed pianissimo. She reminded me that as I ascended up the scale, the aperture (opening in the lips) was to become smaller, and as I descended down the scale, the aperture was to become larger. In my future lessons, she placed brackets in my solo repertoire and instructed me to blow or send my energy to the 1.

She said that she had learned this technique from her studies with William Kincaid, the father of the school of American flute playing, professor of flute at the Curtis Institute, and principal flute of the Philadelphia Orchestra. While Blaisdell had been principally a Georges Barrère student, she told me she always played for Kincaid several times a year to be sure that everything in her playing was going well.

A couple of years later, I began my own studies with William Kincaid. My lessons (and I think my student colleagues’ too) began with whistle tones from a low C and then a C#. Once I was able to play up and down the harmonic series in whistle tones, I was to isolate one of the higher pitches and sustain it for as long as possible. This exercise was to warm up the small muscles surrounding the aperture and work on playing with a very slow air stream. Next I played an exercise that he sometimes called the Praeludium, the V7 warmup, or vocalise.

I was to play the vocalise with the 1, 2341, 2341, 2341 note-grouping pattern that I had previously learned from Blaisdell. Kincaid always had me start this on a low G which is the root of the V7 chord in the key of C major. I then proceeded to play the vocalise on each of the ascending chromatic steps until I ran out of notes in the fourth octave. He reminded me that note grouping was a mental exercise and should not affect any articulation marks or written rhythms. Rather than the clever set of words that Blaisdell had taught, I was to mentally think 1, 2341, 2341 etc.

Kincaid loved etudes as did his students Joseph Mariano and Julius Baker. He was especially fond of the ones by Joachim Andersen (1847-1909, Danish flutist, conductor and composer). These books each have 24 exercises that progress through all of the major and minor keys around the circle of fifths. Kincaid taught the exercise books in the following order: Op. 33, 30, 63, 15, and 60. Even though I had studied several of these books before, Kincaid had me begin with Op. 33. Kincaid assigned six etudes for the next lesson (which was two days in the future). He marked the grouping pattern on the first notes of each etude.

Music marked Kincaid’s grouping pattern.

Since I had previously studied note-grouping with Blaisdell and remembered how she had also had me practice the HAH exercise on the scales, I used this technique in learning and perfecting the exercises. Not only did I practice HAHs, but repeated the process using T, K, and TK. I adapted this exercise so that I could practice counted or measured vibrato by placing five vibrato cycles on all the ones. I played this exercise tennis or ping pong style (alternating playing the 2341 groups with another flutist.) By the time of my next lesson, I knew these exercises quite well. My articulation and vibrato skills were improved too.

Unfortunately for Kincaid, but fortunately for me, I had already begun to have questions about the 2341 or “forward flow” concept. (In the 1980s for the sake of ease and clarity in teaching, I named the 2341 concept forward flow.) I had been studying during the school year with Joseph Mariano at the Eastman School of Music. Mariano told me about an interview with the world-famous cellist Pablo Casals (1876-1973). The interviewer had asked Casals how he started his day. Casals replied that he got a cup of coffee and then retreated to his practice shack to play one of the Bach cello suites. The interviewer remarked that Casals had recorded these six suites several times already and had also performed them numerous times around the world, so what was there left to practice? Casals responded, “Oh, but I see something new in them every day.” Then Mariano asked me the big question “What do you think Casals meant?” Immediately I understood that my early experiences with note grouping were just the beginning, and as I grew and matured as a musician, I would see new ways of grouping the notes in continually varying patterns.

Mariano often mentioned that flutists should phrase as if the music was bowed (as in string technique). He told me that when playing in orchestra, I should pay attention to the concertmaster’s bowings. I realized that I knew little about string bowing, so I enrolled in a year-long MusEd violin methods class taught by David van Hoesen, an author of several string method books.

I soon learned how the bow moves in two ways – down bow and up bow. A down bow starts with the right hand close to the player’s nose, and the up bow starts at the tip with the right hand away from the player. Generally notes to be taken down bow start on the beat and notes to be taken up bow start off the beat. Parts were marked with a ≥ for down bow and a ≤ for up bow. Due to the construction of the modern bow, down bow notes naturally become softer as the right hand moves farther away from the player, and up bow notes naturally become louder as the right hand comes closer to the player.

After taking this course and discussing my findings with Mariano, I began to mark my music with the down and up bow icons. From my violin studies, I realized that I could take many notes on a down or up bow, not just 2341. So for my lesson with Kincaid, I marked the bowings as shown in the following example.

After four bars, Kincaid stopped and asked me what I was doing. I had obviously begun with the 1, 2341, concept, but in bar 3 had changed to a 12345678, 12345678 grouping pattern, followed by a 1234, 1234, 12345, 6781 pattern. I explained (not very well) that I did not feel the sixteenths in measure 4 as going by in the 2341 patterns. After asking me about my phrasing in the Andersen Op. 33, No 1 study, Kincaid tried my bowings. He sounded great as always, but, he turned to me and said, “Think about it some more.” After some contemplation, I found that adding an F or a B after the up bow icon reminded me whether I should go forward (F) or back (B) on the up bow.

John Krell’s brilliant book Kincaidiana discusses Kincaid’s theories at length. Looking back I now realize that most of the music played during Kincaid’s tenure in the Philadelphia Orchestra was from the Romantic period. If the orchestra ever played anything from the Baroque era, it was one of Leopold Stokowski’s Romantic transcriptions of a Prelude and Fugue. If music of the Baroque or Classic eras were programmed, it was played in the Romantic singing style. Based on the repertoire Kincaid was performing, his 2341 worked well for him.

Performers today are cognizant of the research into early music and aware that dancing music primarily incorporates 1234 groupings. All music uses some of each, but Romantic music predominately uses the 2341 grouping. Musicians should be able to quickly and easily shift from the 2341 to 1234, with understanding of which is appropriate.

Each of my teachers taught some variant of these basic ideas. Julius Baker referred to the first note as “the note that sets tonality” rather than as a solitaire. Rather than using brackets, Joseph Mariano used a curvy line between the groups. I predominately use the curvy line too (as can be seen below) because I think it subconsciously helps me remember to keep the air stream going.

As you work with these ideas personally or with your students, remember two wonderful quotations from cellist Pablo Casals, “the art of interpretation is not to play what is written” and “the heart of the melody can never be put down on paper.”

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