The first sound a listener hears is the beginning of the note or the attack. Unfortunately, the word attack implies an aggressiveness that is rarely appropriate to the music, the tone quality, or the pitch. The attack can be made with the tongue (Tu), the breath (Hah), or the lips (P or B). John Krell writes in Kincaidiana (p. 18), “[the tongue] is simply a kind of spring valve that contains and releases the appropriate impulse of pressure of air behind it.” In other words the tongue releases the air stream.
    Articulation on the piccolo can be challenging since the piccolo is smaller than the flute and has less capacity for articulation. Using flute articulation on the piccolo often overpowers the tone. However, there is a simple solution: listen and tongue less. The main articulation challenges that piccolo players face are less about the actual musculature operating the tongue, and more about maintaining the correct level of support and tone placement, so that the tongue muscles are not forced to overcompensate.
    The tongue is not a substitute for proper placement of the airstream. Cracking notes is a result of not appropriately estimating the support needed to play a note, with or without the tongue. Similarly, an articulation that is excessively heavy, harsh, rough, or explosive will overpower the tone, regardless of support, and quickly lead to fatigue. The following simple steps will allow piccolo players to take control of the articulation and practice without falling victim to the tongue-twister feeling that often occurs when executing difficult passages.

Breath Attacks (Hah)
    In order to discover the amount of support needed for notes in the middle and high octaves, practice breath attacks. Breath attacks are tongue-less attacks in which only the air moves, and the body is still. Choose a relatively secure note in the upper middle register and play a sustained note. Notice what that level of support feels like. Now stop and start the airstream, without using the tongue to restart the note, and without relaxing the support in between. It may be helpful to give a little extra hah push of air to restart the note, but minimize the motion with this; it should not disrupt the stillness of the body or alter the support. Repeat, gradually making the spaces between the notes longer and the notes shorter until you are playing a series of staccato eighth notes. Repeat a half step above or below. You may not need to repeat the entire process this time, but do not rush ahead if the notes are not evenly supported and equal in tone quality. Five extra minutes here will save you infinite amounts of time later on. Each day practice a different set of notes in all registers.

Adding the Tongue
    Next, practice the same staccato eighth notes, adding the lightest possible tongue on top or instead of the hah articulation. The tongue placement is somewhat forward, and the tongue moves quickly and lightly. Experiment with using the absolute minimum amount of contact between the tongue and the teeth or the roof of the mouth. The goal is to include the tongue motion for enhanced clarity without altering tone, pitch or airspeed at all.

Long to Short
    The first exercise began with a long note and broke it up into short notes. Now elongate the tongued notes until you are playing one uninterrupted tone, lightly dropping the tongue in at regular intervals to create connected legato quarter notes. Notice how the placement of the tongue might change for low notes vs. high notes. I often find it useful to bring the tongue forward slightly for the high register, and back (or up) slightly for the low register. Something different might work better for you, but whatever it is, be sure it is serving to give you the cleanest, least obtrusive articulation in each register.

Articulating with the Lips
    Occasionally music calls for an articulation somewhere between a breath attack and a legato tongue. Use the same process to experiment with a puh articulation. The lips, which are lightly closed to begin, part slightly and release the tone. The airspeed and support are constant, essentially trapped behind the closed lips. Set the support and imagine spitting a piece of fuzz off of the lips. This tiny release of the aperture is all that is required to start a note in this manner. This articulation is not transferable to double tonguing, and is not the same as articulating between the lips (which is not recommended for piccolo), but it is a highly useful articulation for graceful, pianissimo attacks.

Double Tonguing
    The connection between the level of support, the airstream, and the tongue is the same when double tonguing. Repeat long, legato quarter notes inserting the K articulation on the second half of the beat. Again, minimize body motion when you add the tongue. Notice where you place the tongue for the initial T, and place the K as close as possible to the T. The motion of the articulation should be concise, and should not require the tongue to move forward and back a great deal.

Avoid Tension
    Articulation practice often creates tension that is counterproductive and frustrating. Sometimes it seems the more you practice, the worse it gets. Emphasizing the tone and airstream instead of the athletic motion of the tongue will help avoid this cycle. Gradually increase the speed of these exercises, always keeping the main focus on the support of the airstream. If you start to get tired, take a break. Do not allow tension to creep into articulation practice. The goal is to find something easy and simple to create good habits, so the airstream and articulation work together, rather than interfere with one another.

Repertoire
    When working on more difficult passagework, use the same method to practice without tension and fatigue. You will accomplish much more practicing one or two beats of the 32nd notes in Scheherazade consciously, with a minimum of motion, than drilling the entire excerpt until it falls apart. Once you feel comfortable with the basic concepts of articulation on the piccolo, experiment with a variety of styles and dynamics. A hard, Shostakovich accent, a hearty Beethoven sfz, a light Rossini staccato, and a sighing Bartók legato should all be parts of the articulation tool kit. The important thing to remember is that the same fundamental techniques apply to any style of articulation. Maintain even support and appropriate tonal note placement, and keep the tongue moving quickly and lightly. Reduce all unnecessary tension and always use the ear as your guide. You may be surprised how clearly this will lead you to where you want to go.

The post Piccolo Articulation appeared first on The Instrumentalist.

Be Respectful
    Address your teacher formally (Dr., Mr., Ms., or Professor) until he or she  says otherwise. Check the spelling of the teacher’s name. Is it Khaner or Kahner? (It’s Jeffrey Khaner.) Practice saying the teacher’s name until you can pronounce it properly.

Scheduling a Lesson
    Schedule a one-time-only lesson or coaching session well in advance. When calling or emailing, be sure you have current contact information for the teacher and that you convey a clear, coherent message with information on how you can be reached. Answer your phone and email messages in a timely fashion. Make it easy for the teacher to contact you. 
    When calling or emailing a teacher, have your weekly schedule in hand. Know when you are available so it is easy to determine a lesson time. Once a lesson has been scheduled, show up. Arriving early is considered being on time. If you must cancel a lesson, do so at least 24 hours in advance.
    For students in a college flute studio, it may be possible to trade lesson times with another flutist in the event of a problem. Be sure to send an email to the professor telling of the exchange of lesson times. Poor planning on your part should not affect your teacher’s schedule. 
    Never cancel a lesson unless you are contagious. Insufficient practice is not a good reason. Even if you have not practiced, there is always something a teacher can work on with you. It is better, however, to be candid with your teacher if this occurs. Teachers can almost always tell if you have not practiced enough.

Payment
    When scheduling private lessons, ask the fee for the lesson and how the teacher would like to be paid. If you are paying by check, have the check made out before the lesson and present it to the teacher at the beginning of the lesson. If the lesson goes substantially longer than the allotted time, ask if you owe an additional fee. If a student has scheduled a 60-minute lesson and I go over the time by my choice, I do not charge for the extra time. However, other teachers may expect additional payment. Be prepared for this. If the teacher continually goes over the 60-minute lesson, ask if you can schedule a 90- or 120-minute lesson. Or, say you can only afford a 60-minute lesson.
    Expect to pay more for a one time lesson than for regular lessons. A well-known teacher said he often charges double at the beginning of a series of lessons as one fee is to get rid of bad habits and the other is to teach new habits. If the fee is more than you or your family can afford, talk with the teacher. I have bartered lessons for babysitting, house work, gardening, secretarial duties, and tutoring younger flutists.
    When scheduling a preview lesson at a college, ask what the charge will be for the lesson. Colleges, universities, and conservatories have conflicting guidelines regarding preview lessons. Some allow the professor to charge, and others do not. If a teacher charges for the preview lesson, put the fee in an envelope with a thank you card. Sometime during the next week, send another short note offering your thanks. In the note mention something the teacher said that you found helpful. Remember good manners will take you a long way, and the music field is a small community.

Getting Ready for a First Lesson
    Make a repertoire sheet with the following headings:
• Etudes Studied
• Unaccompanied Repertoire
• Flute and Piano Repertoire
• Concertos (place an asterisk before the ones you have performed with orchestra)
• Chamber Music
• Excerpts (place an asterisk before the ones you have performed with orchestra)
    Send this repertoire sheet to the teacher before the first lesson with a note asking what you should prepare for the first lesson. If the teacher suggests a certain book or edition, order the music immediately. If the music does not arrive in time, borrow one from the library or from a colleague. Out of respect for copyright laws, many teachers will not teach from copies. As the wife of a composer, I applaud these teachers.

Prepare well for the first lesson. You can only make a first impression once.
    Be sure your flute is in good repair and you have a metronome, tuner, and recording device. Many of the cell phones and laptops have excellent recording features.
    Warm up carefully before the lesson. Enter the lesson prepared as if you were going to play a concert. If one day in the future, you find you cannot do a proper warmup, explain the situation to the teacher and ask if he could listen to your warmup and give ideas about how you could improve what you are doing. Many fine players have said their first lesson with Marcel Moyse was on how to play a scale. This kind of lesson is pure gold. However, coming to a lesson unprepared means you expect the teacher to entertain you for an hour. This is not their job. Studying with a teacher is a collaborative effort.
    Plan what you are going to wear for the lesson. Wear supportive footwear so you have good body alignment. Female singers at the Metropolitan Opera wear athletic footwear under their hooped gowns. Intelligent footwear helps alignment for good vocal usage and helps the singer maintain stamina for several hours of singing. This is true for flutists also.
    Dressing up shows respect to your professor, your art and yourself. One night after a long teaching day, Michel Debost had dinner at my home. My daughter, an oboist who was studying at Oberlin with Debost in his Prima Vista class for woodwind quintets, came down for dinner dressed up for an evening out. Debost said, “Clara, is that you?” Then he asked if I thought his students at Oberlin came from nice homes because he had thought his students were poor because they wore holey clothing (my daughter included). I explained that clothing with holes was part of the current grunge fad of dressing. At this time he had been teaching at Oberlin for six or seven years, and this was the impression he had of his students.
    Buy a new journal. Even if the teacher doesn’t require or grade a journal, keep one on your own. Rereading a journal in the future will help you relive each and every lesson. Every flutist I have known has reflected that at one time or another, teachers have explained concepts the student did not fully understand, but wrote down anyway. Sometimes it was years before they understood what the concept meant. You will be exposed to ideas and concepts before you are ready to assimilate the information. Having these comments written in a journal will mean the teacher is still mentoring you in years to come.
    If this is a preview lesson, where you are checking out a teacher or school, read the university bulletin carefully. Examine the curriculum for each major so you can ask intelligent questions. Both the bulletin and degree curriculum may be found on the school’s webpage. Because of the high cost of secondary education, inquire about the possibility of a double degree program. Most teachers support double degree programs because of the current poor job market. But if they don’t, it is better to know before you enroll in the school.

The Lesson
    Have your flute assembled and tuned before you walk into the studio. Place your repertoire for the lesson on the music stand. When the teacher asks what you have prepared for today, have a list of repertoire and questions that you have had during the week. You can have this written in your journal. Remember to update your repertoire list from time to time. Often seeing the music on the stand is enough to help the teacher decide how to organize the time with you. Have piano scores readily available in your music bag so you can present them at the teacher’s request. Most teachers arrange lessons in three sections: warmup and theoretical work, etudes, and solos/excerpts.
    Be mentally prepared to learn and open to new ideas. Teachers like students who display intellectual curiosity and are open to new ideas.
    Listen when the teacher speaks or plays. Be still too. Don’t fidget by fingering along or clicking the keys. Usually it is best to write in the journal after the lesson rather than taking valuable lesson time to make an entry.
    If a teacher mentions a book, an artwork, a musical composition, a composer, a term, or a recording/video that you are unfamiliar with, look it up before the next lesson. I mentioned Impressionism in a lesson with a flutist, and the next week she brought in several art books on Impressionism. She showed me plates of paintings she thought were relevant to the piece she was studying. She had found a new love in art and eventually added an art history minor to her music education degree.
    If your journal has the same type of comments week after week, this indicates there is a problem, and you should fix it now. Music is an art that is built upon a strong foundation. Until the foundation is there, it is reckless to move into more difficult etudes, solos, or excerpts.
    Try to play perfectly. Yes, we are human and make errors, but do not learn something wrong. If you miss a note, go back and figure out what made you miss it. If you miscounted something, go back and write in the counting. Practice with the metronome. Do homework well in advance of the lesson.

Be a Responsible Studio Member
    Follow the teacher’s syllabus. There is a reason why the university mandates each course has a syllabus. Help develop studio camaraderie. My goal for a studio dynamic is, “If someone asked, who is the best flutist? Each member of the studio would answer, “It depends what we are doing.” In studio class when giving comments, say something nice first, before making a critical comment. If you have a criticism, offer a suggestion of what to do to fix the issue. Mentor younger students. When I was a freshman at Eastman, graduate students invited me to play trios and quartets on several occasions. Not only was it obvious what I needed to work on in my playing, but they were cordial about answering questions I had about some of the mechanics of flute-playing. 
    Not only should you attend your professor’s lectures, masterclasses, and concert performances, but you should do the same for other students. (Victoria Jicha’s column on listening, page 2, offers some valuable tips on getting the most out of concert attendance.)
    When soliciting letters of recommendation for college, summer programs, and graduate school, ask the professor well in advance of the due date for the letters. Most letters of recommendation are done online; however, if the professor needs to send the recommendation in hard copy, provide a stamped, addressed envelope. If you require letters of recommendation for several programs, give the professor the list for all the programs at one time. It is helpful to the professor if you include your resume. Having a current resume of a student means the professor will be able to write an informative letter of recommendation. 
    When a teacher assigns ensemble placement and parts, do not question the choices. Teachers have a plan to give each and every studio member the best ensemble experience possible. I heard one horn student complain that he had been assigned the 4th horn part for a well-known symphony. He said, “I am the best player. I should be playing first.” If he had bothered to check the score, he would have seen that the big solo for the symphony was in the 4th horn part, so he had been assigned the best part. Playing in an ensemble is a team effort. Every part is equally important. Think how the Minuet from L’Arlesienne Suite by Bizet would sound without the harp. Yet from the harpist’s point of view, his part is quite repetitive and maybe even bordering on boring. 
    Make a New Year’s resolution to put your best foot forward to become the perfect student. 

The post Becoming a Better Student appeared first on The Instrumentalist.

    Have you ever thought about the difference between hearing and listening? The two words are really quite different. One is passive, and the other is active. When you step into a store or elevator, there is often music in the background. That is, you are aware of it at first, but soon you no longer pay attention to it. That, to me, is hearing, and therefore passive. You know it is there, but it is not important enough to focus your attention on it.
    Listening, on the other hand, is an active response to auditory stimuli. For example, people listen carefully when speaking with someone from another country because if they do not, they might not understand correctly. We listen to phone messages, hopefully to professors in lecture classes, and yes, even to music, although it is entirely possible to hear music without actually listening intently to it. By the way, it is completely probable that you spend a good part of your practice time hearing rather than listening, but that is fodder for another article.
    Most music schools have concert attendance requirements. My remembrance of these requirements is that I would rather have been practicing, and you may feel the same way. However, you might want to rethink that attitude. A huge part of performing is listening to the other players in an ensemble. Where better to learn that skill than at a concert? 
    Flutists generally listen to music from the top down. They hear the melody first; everything below the melody takes a back seat in the listening process. When I was studying organ at Northwestern (read lots of J.S. Bach), my organ teacher discovered that I was listening to what I was playing from the right hand down. Baroque music, however, is based upon a fundamental bass line, in my case, what my feet were playing. It had never occurred to me to listen from the bottom up, and it took a good bit of practice to remember to do it from that point on.
    I remember attending an Aspen Festival Orchestra concert one summer and being amazed at what I heard. I actually remember the piece being performed – Dvorák’s Cello Concerto played by Zara Nelsova. She was an amazing cellist with an extraordinary tone resulting from her incredible bow arm strength. She was captivating to watch as well as listen to, and I began to follow the cello line first rather than listening from the top of the orchestral sound. That is when I discovered listening from the middle out.
    Give it a try. The viola line is a good place to start. Hone in on the middle of the texture and try listening from the inside out in both directions at the same time. You will be surprised at how different the musical experience becomes. You will get lost from time to time, because you are not used to working in the middle of the orchestral sound, but pick the line up again and continue. See how long you can focus on that particular voice.
    This ability is essential when you sit in an orchestral flute section. In order to play in tune with the rest of the woodwinds, you have to be able to pick out the voice with which you are paired and tune to it while playing. This is not the tuning done at the beginning of a concert but rather adjustments done while playing – directing the air stream higher or lower to match the pitch within which we are playing.
    I played a lot of section flute as an extra with the Chicago Symphony and remember vividly focusing in on the clarinets seated behind me. That voice in the texture was the line my part was paired with most often, usually 2nd clarinet or even sometimes, E-flat clarinet. Tuning to the first flute in those moments didn’t make sense, because I was in thirds or unison with a voice coming from behind me – the clarinets, not the principal flutist.
    As a second flutist, my part often played with the first violins; when it was, that was the line I listened to most intently to match their pitch, bowing, and phrasing.
    Listening is an important art to which you should apply yourself. Teachers encourage students to practice their flutes diligently, but I don’t think anyone ever suggested to me that I should practice listening. Everything flutists do on the instrument, however, is subject to what is going on around them. Learn to be more than peripherally aware of those sounds. Try to become plugged into them in order to become one with the sounds.
    Take advantage of every student recital or ensemble concert you must attend, and use it as an opportunity to practice listening. Find a voice in the middle and follow it throughout the evening. You may soon find that you are hearing music in a new way.

The post Listening at Concerts appeared first on The Instrumentalist.

Devise a Timeline
    Divvy up the piece into sections and assign deadlines for how much music you want to learn per week. Full run-throughs should be possible at least one month prior to a competition or performance. Figure out how much you need to memorize each week to be ready by then. There is a huge advantage to using the same piece for multiple competitions or performances, sometimes for years in a row. I do it. Violinist Joshua Bell does it for performances all the time. Ninety-five percent of the time when you hear a professional play a piece from memory, he has performed that piece from memory countless times.  

Put Muscle Memory and Auditory Memory Together
    Sing through the piece out loud. Finger through the piece. Then sing through and finger through together. Finger through and sing through the piece along with a recording. I once memorized the slow movement of an Albinoni Sonata by whistling and fingering it while in airports. Whistling in public is less obtrusive than playing the flute.

Be Able to Start Anywhere
    Photocopy the music and cut it into 4 to 16 measure sections. Place strips in a paper bag and shake the bag. Pull a section randomly from the bag, start there, and play to the end. The ability to start anywhere will be extremely helpful should you get asked to jump to a different place in an audition or if you have a memory lapse. 

Visual Stimulation
    Know where difficult spots or transitions take place on the physical page. Often I hear a voice in my head saying “Top of the 3rd page, mysterioso.” If I work on it, I can see what the page looks like in my head. Practice one phrase at a time and then swivel the stand away or close your eyes to visualize it.

Be Invested in the Music
    When you think only about memorizing notes instead of feeling and expressing the music, chances for success drop radically. Practice feeling the emotions and exerting the musicality you want to convey. Expressive playing generally will not just happen on stage for most people – especially not in difficult sections. I find that when my brain focuses on the music, there is a lesser chance that a negative inner voice will enter with something like, “you have trouble here; what are the notes? Oh my goodness, what’s the next note?”

Sections that are Repetitive, but Slightly Different
    If there is a passage that happens several times, but is slightly different each time, study the score looking at the form again and analyzing what is the same and what is different. Sometimes I make up a little song to help me with the differences such as “Second time dominant” or “Third time F#.” Then drill the sequence of passages many times. Sometimes I think about how these small differences affect the story or emotion that I want to convey.

Think Like a Singer
    The brain treats a melody entirely differently when there are words. Make up words for difficult sections as sometimes it is easier to memorize this way. It might make the performance more musical as well.

Colors
    Some people find that thinking in colors works really well. They imagine  blue and yellow sections instead of A and B sections or phrases.

Slow Practice
    Practice challenging technical sections slowly from memory. I mean as slow as ¼ the tempo. It is a great test, especially for those who rely on muscle memory predominantly. What seems to flow at a quick pace, may not be accurate when exposed at a slower speed.

Regular Complete Runs
    About one month before the performance, I like to be able to run through my music from memory every day. Don’t avoid problem sections.

Write It Down
    Write down trouble spots from memory on staff paper or with a computer music writing program. Include all markings. This will help with visual memory.

Test Performances
    The most important part of developing a memorized performance is playing for people. Get a memory buddy. You play for him. He plays for you. While I hate asking, I will always do it. Play for friends, studio mates, and your teacher. Drag people into your practice room. If you wait until you feel you are ready, you will never be ready. These low-pressure run-throughs are to work out all the kinks and little memory issues that happen when we get nervous. Pick people who make you nervous. Organize run-throughs any place where there is a piano such as a senior center or library. 

Record Yourself
    When listening to the playback, conduct along with the recording. If you can’t conduct it, that might indicate a problem. Listen for rhythm, intonation and dynamics.

Provide Distractions
    At one performance a bat flew underneath the seats of the audience, and everyone freaked out and jumped out of their chairs. I kept on going. On another occasion, one audience member in the third row snored through the entire first movement of one of the most important concerts of my career. Create distractions to practice concentration. Play the piece while your earbuds are playing something else, or play with the TV or radio on. 

Simulate Nerves
    Run down the hallway or jog in place and then attempt to play from memory. Exercise elevates the heart rate and simulates a performance situation. For wind players who need to breathe, an elevated heart rate can change everything.

Recordings (Again)
    Play along with recordings (North American recordings are usually preferable for pitch.) Finger along with recordings. Sing along with recordings. Record yourself playing with the recording. 

Memory Lapse?
    If you have a memory lapse in a practice session, start the entire piece over after going over the trouble spot. Some friends allegedly heard violinist Midori play the same passage for hours one morning after making one small mistake in concert.

Practice at Varying Tempos
    This will be very helpful for situations that involve minimal rehearsal time with collaborators. When performing a concerto, tempos can vary widely, which will affect muscle memory and breathing.

Rehearsing with the Pianist
    Schedule a rehearsal as soon as possible. This might be months or weeks before the performance. I scheduled ten performances of the Ibert concerto with a pianist once before playing it with orchestra.

Practical Tips
    Commit to learning and performing a piece from memory and do not look back. As you prepare, decide where you are going to look in the hall when performing. If there is a balcony, look at the balcony. If you practice from memory looking at the floor for endless hours, chances are your head will be down in performance. If you are performing in an unfamiliar hall, check online to see if you can find photos of the space. If you are performing with a conductor or pianist, you will need to communicate with him or her, so your eyes will need to be open. Don’t practice with your eyes closed all the time. In addition, if you are playing with piano at competitions, some jury members may find it offensive if you play with your eyes closed. It is fine to occasionally glance at a jury member, but do not stare them down.
    Remember that playing from memory is a creative venture and should enhance the performance. Always have fun when performing, both with and without the music.

*   *   *

Getting Started: Score Study
    Obtain two copies of the score: one for you and one for the pianist. Study the score away from the flute. Identify the form and mark the phrases. Create a story line if that helps. Make note of all dynamics, articulation and expressive markings. Play from the score. Learn to play and sing the tutti sections of concertos and the piano interludes from flute and piano compositions. Know the music, and do not simply count the rests of these sections. Skipping the rests in practice will lead to incorrect entrances when playing with an accompanist. Analyze the harmony and harmonic rhythm. Score study is especially imperative for those who memorize by muscle memory. It is also likely that score study is what this group dislikes doing most.

Listening with the Score
    While listening, watch the score rather than the flute part. Find as many recordings as possible. Utilizing YouTube is not enough. You may even have to order CDs in the mail for recordings not available online (and walk up hill to school both ways).

The post Practical Tips for Effective Memorization appeared first on The Instrumentalist.

    Recently there has been a growing interest in incorporating Early Music techniques and ideas into the Baroque repertoire of modern flute playing. When studying and preparing Baroque music, there are three main concepts that work together to create a Historically Informed Performance (HIP): beat hierarchy, microdynamics, and varied articulation. These concepts form the staple of a traverso flutist’s approach to phrasing and musicality.
    Authors of 18th century treatises placed high emphasis on this kind of declamatory or rhetorical musical phrasing. Johann Philipp Kirnberger summarizes this sentiment eloquently in his 1776 treatise, The Art of Strict Musical Composition. “If the words were not separated from one another by the accents associated with the length and brevity of the syllables, […] the most beautiful speech [would] sound no better than the letter-by-letter reading of children.” (p.375, Yale Press)

Beat Hierarchy
    Beat hierarchy is the notion that there are strong and weak beats within each bar with a strict order of importance. As a rule, beat one is the strongest in all meters. This article focuses on music written in common time. In The Notation is Not the Music, Barthold Kuijken visually represents beat hierarchy in the following way. (p. 56, Indiana University Press)

Kuijken’s diagram is a compilation of knowledge from historical treatises. The larger the number is, the greater importance that beat has in the bar. For example, look at the opening bars of Telemann’s Fantasie in B-flat Major.

    According to Kuijken’s diagram, beat one is most important. In measure 1, the first G would receive the most importance of the bar. The next most important beat in the bar is the G on beat 3. This is followed by the Eb on beat 2 and lastly the rest on beat 4. This order of importance holds true for subsequent bars unless there is a compelling reason to play otherwise.
    Looking at only these four notes, it is G-G-Eb-rest in decreasing importance. All other notes within the bar are played with less importance. This includes the pickups to each bar as they fall on the second half of the weakest beat of the bar (beat 4+).

Microdynamics
    In Baroque manuscripts and facsimiles, there are few if any dynamic markings. This leaves room for different interpretations. For example, one modern version is to add terraced dynamics and 4-bar hairpin dynamics. These are examples of macro-dynamics, or large scale dynamics. In HIP, microdynamics form the basis of dynamic vocabulary. These are small-scale dynamics that affect a single note or a small group of notes. They were an unwritten convention of the period and are the dynamic representation of beat hierarchy. In common time, the hierarchical microdynamics basic pattern looks like this.

f  mp  mf  p

    In addition to the basic hierarchical pattern, two more examples of microdynamics are messa di voce and diminuendo over a slur. Messa di voce is an Italian vocal technique of swelling in dynamics and intensity over a long note.
    Looking at the same excerpt from Telemann’s Fantasie in B-flat major, see how microdynamics are used in conjunction with beat strength. Notice that the slur means diminuendo.

    Notes that fall on strong beats are played more loudly, and notes that fall on weak beats are played more softly. As is the case with beat hierarchy, notes that do not fall on beats are of lesser importance and therefore played more softly. The use of microdynamics does not completely replace macrodynamics, but works as a hierarchal undercurrent to the overall shape of each phrase or section.
    To get an idea of how microdynamics can be understood, take a look at Section 41 in Of the Manner of Playing the Adagio in Quantz’s On Playing the Flute. Quantz wrote meticulously detailed instructions for the application of microdynamics in the Adagio, which is printed without dynamic markings. Quantz’s copious dynamics suggestions are listed in sections 40-43. Try copying the Adagio in Tables XVII-XIX and writing out each of his dynamic suggestions in the score. Then play your elaborately notated version. When playing this version of the Adagio, keep in mind that Quantz advises against taking his instructions to an extreme degree. By this, he means to play the dynamic shades subtly without exaggeration. Quantz says that this way of playing was in good taste at the time. It is remarkable how different it is from how musicians play today.

Varied Articulation
    Modern flutists spend many hours perfecting different kinds of articulation. This includes accented notes, staccato notes, double tonguing, low register tonguing, pianissimo high register attacks, tongueless or breath attacks, and more. Baroque flutists had a different set of varied articulations that they mastered and learned to use as their palette. These included ti, di, tiri, did’ll, du, ru, and more.
    In Jacques Hotteterre’s Baroque treatise, Principles of Playing the Flute, he wrote that there are two basic types of beginnings of notes. He called them tu and ru and described their use with examples. In On Playing the Flute, Quantz calls the main two articulations ti and di. In section 5, he says that short notes should use ti since the tongue would rebound back to the top of the gums. This describes a tongue-stopped note, which was commonly used in the period. There is a definite beginning and end to these notes. Stopping a note with the tongue should be gentle and not violent. This practice takes patience to learn. Some examples of when to use this tongue-stopped articulation are before a repeated note, before a harmonically interesting note, and before a note on an important beat. Quantz added two more articulations. They are tiri for “dotted notes and moderately quick passage-work,” and did’ll “for very quick passage-work.” Modern double tonguing du-gu or tu-ku was not yet used. Other composers suggested more articulations, each a variation of a t or d attack and their combinations.
    For an eye opening exercise, read Quantz’s chapter on articulation, and experiment on either a modern flute or a traverso. Try each of the examples at least a few times.
    Looking at the Telemann example, notice how varied articulations go hand in hand with beat hierarchy and microdynamics. The bottom line shows an application of Quantz’s articulations, while the top line shows a more simplified adaption to better suit modern flute playing. The symbol | denotes stopping the preceding note with the tongue for clarity. T is a strong attack, t a little less, and d a softer attack.

    This kind of precision of articulation gives the music a much more enunciated effect and leads to a more declamatory style of phrasing.

Putting It All Together
    All three of these concepts work together to create well-defined declamatory expression. This clarifies the meaning of the music. A stage actor would not deliver a mumbled run-on sentence in a performance. A flutist should have the same amount of enunciation, diction, and rhetorical declamation as an actor speaking a soliloquy on stage.
    Here is the opening of the Fantasie with all three of these components notated. It may seem daunting to keep track of all of this information while playing, but with practice, this kind of historically informed playing will become a second language.

    Becoming familiar with these Baroque ideas and techniques is a good starting point for flutists in their exploration of playing the traverso and their incorporation of HIP practices into modern flute playing. This kind of attention to detail leads to Baroque music that is played with wit, humor, and elegant elocution.

Seeing the Big Three in Practice
    Wilbert Hazelzet, traverso professor at the Royal Conservatoire in the Hague, described the conjunction of these three concepts in his teaching at a recent masterclass in Spain. This photo of his chart at the top of the flute part to J.S. Bach’s Sonata in A Major, BWV 1032 succinctly and comprehensively depicts how these concepts work together.

*  *  *

Recite a Nursery Rhyme

    A fun exercise to illustrate playing with and without inflection is to read a well-known nursery rhyme (i.e. Hickory, Dickory, Dock) out loud. Set the metronome to 118 and speak the nursery rhyme out loud with one syllable per beat and no accents. Notice how the words carry little meaning when spoken in such a monotone fashion. Now, think of this rhyme in 68 meter with q. = 60 (see below). Emphasize the syllables on the down beats. Back away from the other syllables. Even without the melody, the effect is much more declamatory when the rhyme is spoken in meter while embracing beat hierarchy, microdynamics, and good articulation of consonants.


 

The post Performing Baroque Music: Beat Hierarchy, Microdynamics, and Articulation appeared first on The Instrumentalist.

    Among her many awards and honors, Israeli-American composer Shulamit Ran was the second woman to win the Pulitzer Prize in composition. She is a long-time professor at the University of Chicago and has been a composer-in-residence with the Chicago Symphony Orchestra and the Lyric Opera of Chicago. Works for flute include Voices, Sonatina for Two Flutes; East Wind; Mirage for flute (piccolo and amplified alto flute), clarinet, violin, cello and piano; and Birds of Paradise for flute and piano.

    Shulamit Ran moved to New York City at the age of 14 to become a scholarship student at the Mannes College of Music. She won the Pulitzer Prize in composition in 1990, is a member of the American Academy of Arts and Letters, and is also the Andrew MacLeish Distinguished Service Professor in the Department of Music at the University of Chicago. She lives in Chicago with her husband, Avi Lotan, a recently retired ear-nose-and-throat, head-and-neck surgeon, and is the mother of two sons.

When did you become interested in music?
    My earliest memory of music is from when I was going to school in Tel Aviv, Israel, and I had developed a love for reading, around the age of perhaps seven. I was reading books, not necessarily for little children, but for young people. I would come home from school and I would read the books I was learning in school to my mother. When it came to a point where a character would sing a song, I would sing it to my mother. She would ask me, “Where do these melodies come from?” and I would point to the book and say, “It’s right here!” As far as I knew, the melody was there. She would say, “I don’t see the melody; I see the words. Did you learn this melody in school? Where does it come from?” I kept pointing and saying, “Right here!” As far as I knew, the melody was part and parcel, part of the words I was reading. I felt anyone reading this would hear the same melody. It really was not something I felt I was inventing, but rather this melody was there, it was part of being.

Was your perception of the melodies cued directly from the text, as words or letters to pitches?
    My perception of music at this point was very intuitive, a very natural process. I would hear the characters’ singing not as an isolated event, but as part of the greater narrative. The melody itself, however, was attached to the words I was reading.   
    One afternoon I went for a visit with my parents to the home of new family friends. They had a little spinet piano. I had never encountered a piano until then. I spent the afternoon playing on this fantastic toy that was a musical instrument and really loved it. I came home and said to my parents, “I really would love to have a piano.” I offered them a bargain and said, “You don’t have to get a babysitter for me anymore (remember, I was seven years old); instead you can put that money aside each time, so you can buy me a piano.” If they had taken me up on this offer, they would probably still be saving up for that piano. I think I probably still needed some supervision as well.
    They bought me a nice upright piano, and I started to take piano lessons. They were never pushy as parents. However, they did give me the sense that the sky is the limit. I owe very much to my parents. It was always about my own effort and sense of commitment. My parents found a piano teacher, a gentleman who lived on our street and taught the neighborhood kids. He was quite a wonderful pedagogue. In the beginning, without us giving it much thought, he would write down all the melodies I would sing. At this point, I was just learning musical notation, so I didn’t know how to write them down myself. 
    I would come to my lessons, play through piano melodies, and sing for him. These songs were often settings of poems. The great Israeli poets of that era also wrote poetry for youngsters, which was filled with great imagery. These were the inspiration for my songs. My teacher wrote these down and without telling us sent some of these songs to the Israeli Radio. To my surprise, I received a letter saying that two of my songs would be performed by a children’s choir on a program called “A Children’s Corner.”
    I was attending summer camp just then, and all the kids were gathered around a big box radio. At the designated hour, there came my songs as part of this program. It was the most amazing experience. I remember that afternoon very vividly. Hearing my music coming out of the radio, there was a sense that these songs had an independent existence from me. They were mine, but in some way, they also had their own existence. It was a wonderful feeling, and I knew right then and there that I wanted to replicate this over and over again.

How did you begin to develop a more serious, intellectual, and eventually more professional interest in music?
    I became quite a serious student of music, both piano and composition. After about a year of study, my neighborhood teacher advised me to go to other teachers who could perhaps take me to a more advanced level of study. I then had the benefit of studying with some of Israel’s most renowned musicians, composers, and piano teachers. Obviously, I went to school and took it very seriously. However, I spent a good bit of time practicing and composing. If you want to be a musician, this is not something you can just do on the side.
    I recall the day, I was 10 or 11 years old, when a gentleman knocked on our door and introduced himself. He was the principal second violinist of the Israel Philharmonic, and he lived close by. He had heard about me and asked if there was something that he could do to help me. He introduced me to many of the great conductors and performers who played with the orchestra. The encouragement I received from these great artists was incredibly meaningful at that stage. 
    There were other things that I pursued purely out of a sense of “this is what I want to do, and this is the way to go about it.” Initially, I either sang my songs, or composed small piano pieces. Then I started to do these full productions where I would play the piano, sing, and in some cases narrate a particular subject of interest. These were things I learned in school, tales from the Old Testament of the Bible, some really incredible stories that I was drawn towards, with tragic underpinnings and epic content.
    When I was 12, I felt the time had come to compose for an instrument other than my own. My very first work for non-piano and voice, such as it was, was the Sonatina for Two Flutes. It has had quite a remarkable performance history. As a child, I really wanted to hear the piece played, but I did not know any flutists. I often went to hear the concerts of the Israel Philharmonic, and I noticed that the person who wrote the program notes for the orchestra was the principal flutist. I knew that he did not live far from us, so I decided to tell him that I had written a work for two flutes. I hoped he might consider loaning me two of his students to read the music for me. 
    I was very nervous and wrote down everything I wanted to say, trying to sound very formal. I called him and breathlessly went through my little speech. At the end of which, he said, “What did you say?” My heart sank, but I repeated everything all over again. He was really very nice, and in the end, he did lend me a couple of his students, both of whom had the first name of Rina. I gave them copies of the music, and they came to my home and played for me. Remarkably, two flutists of the Jerusalem Orchestra, a broadcasting radio orchestra, then picked up the Sonatina. They not only programmed it on a major concert in Tel Aviv, but they also took it on a tour of Israel, so it was performed in many different places. That was an extraordinary thing. That is the kind of thing that gives one the encouragement to keep going, to keep stretching and working harder.

Do you find that you still gravitate towards compositions with a literary connection?
    Yes and no. The no is that if you look at my catalog of works, you will see that music with voice takes up a certain part of the catalog, but by no means its lion’s share. However, I feel very connected to writing with text. It allows me to address topics, that are important to me as a human being. And I love the human voice and just love writing for it. I have one opera, and I am hoping to write more. There are various works for voice in different settings, choral music, a capella, song cycles. Throughout the years, I come back periodically to works with voice because it was such a major way for me to express my ideas, musical and otherwise.
    Certainly, works like Apprehensions for voice, clarinet, and piano, make a grander statement. It is a big work, about 20 minutes, and very ambitious in the demands it places on each of the three performers. It’s based on a poem by Sylvia Plath from her “Winter Trees” collection. It is a single-page poem, and each stanza revolves around a different color. Leading from white to grey to red to black, it is filled with powerful imagery. There is a kind of curve, a very dramatic shape, with a huge climax at its apex. It is a very powerful poem.
    What I did was set each stanza as a movement of the piece, so it is a cycle made of a single poem. I always think of that as a kind of mini-opera, monodrama just for three instruments. The clarinet is in some sense the alter ego of the singer. It is operatic in nature, even if not of the same scale.

How did you come to leave Israel at the age of 14 to study at the Mannes College of Music in New York City?
    I received a scholarship. It was a difficult decision, but very exciting to be in the center of the music world. It was a challenge; it was daunting, difficult, and very exciting. I did not know how long I would go to school or continue to receive the scholarship. My parents came with me and were very motivated to do whatever it took to make it possible for me to reach for and fulfill my dreams. They were truly exceptional people, and the most supportive parents anyone could have.
    I became a full-time student at Mannes College, both in piano and in composition, and simultaneously completed my high school degree through a correspondence course through the American School in Chicago, never realizing that I would one day end up in Chicago. At the time, I was a very serious pianist. Although I was performing, deep down, I was more dedicated to composing. That was where my heart was. Later, the life I would choose for myself would be as a music-maker, rather than as a performer.
    For a few years after Mannes, I was busy composing, performing, learning, and everything you would expect from someone who wants to get better. Then, something quite extraordinary happened. I was given the opportunity to give a recital on a prestigious young artists’ series at the Grace Rainey Rogers Auditorium at the Metropolitan Museum of Art. For the first half, I played general piano repertoire. For the second half, I presented my own music, and the closing work was O the Chimneys based on the poetry of Nelly Sachs. There was a mishap that occurred at the concert. At the end of the piece, there was supposed to be a minute and 15 second electronic music tape section. But it never came in. Instead there was complete silence, right where the work’s shuddering climax was to have happened – and a new lesson on the realities of live music-making!  
    Richard Kapp, a conductor who was involved with the Ford Foundation, had a special program for recordings by contemporary composers. Thanks to Kapp’s advocacy, an LP with George Rochberg’s Tableaux was released, with O the Chimneys on the flip side. Rochberg was a well-known composer, and this was a special honor for me as a young composer. Not long afterwards, the LP made its way into the hands of Ralph Shapey at the University of Chicago. At that point, there happened to be a faculty search at the University of Chicago Department of Music to fill a position for a composer, leading to a phone call that marked a turning point in my life.

To celebrate the 25th anniversary of the Chicago Flute Club, you were commissioned to write Birds of Paradise for flute and piano. What is your your concept of the composition?
    Birds of Paradise intersperses music that is brilliant and energetic with the wondrous and songful. Its title notwithstanding, I did not set out to compose a bird piece. Messiaen’s music, which I admire immensely, would seem to render such an effort quite unnecessary. The title does allude, however, to the musical imagery that the music, as I was composing it, was evoking in my own mind, where shifting motion and brilliant color take center-stage.
    Birds of paradise do exist. This fact became known to me thanks to an extraordinary program that aired on PBS in September 2013. At the time I had completed all but the last phrase of the work, and had also settled on its title. My decision to name the work Birds of Paradise was based purely on an imagined vision of a fantastical bird of many bright and amazing colors with the ability to soar high and at different speeds. I also envisioned the flower with that name as well. Imagine my surprise at seeing the stunning photography of the real birds that carry such a proud title.
    The work is structured in three movement-like sections that are played without breaks and that together form a fast-slow-fast shape, more a large A-B-C than true arch form, internally shaped in ways that allow for numerous detours into further contrasting terrains. As the piece progresses, though, several main ideas that emerge early on assert their dominance and help tie together the various digressions and flights of fancy. The three sections are played without break and are sub-titled: Sparkling and energetic, With mystery and awe and Brilliant, articulate, propulsive. (Birds of Paradise was premiered at the 2014 National Flute Convention in Chicago, with Mary Stopler, flute and Kuang-Hao Huang, piano.)

What are your plans for the future?
    I intend to keep composing, always in an effort to say something that will make my listener, and performer, want to take the journey with me. I consider myself truly blessed in that, for many decades, nearly every single one of the compositions I have written was a commission – someone, an individual, or an organization, made the decision to have me write music for them. This continues to be the case, yet how quickly, or slowly, a new work will evolve, remains a mystery. Every new piece is a fresh beginning. One always starts with a blank slate. Exciting and daunting at the same time.
    Some future commissions I look forward to fulfilling are a work for the Tanglewood Festival’s upcoming 75th anniversary next summer, and a quintet for the wonderful Brentano String Quartet with clarinet virtuoso and Metropolitan Opera principal Anthony McGill. In particular, I hope to compose another opera. Composing my first and so far only opera, Between Two Worlds (The Dybbuk), premiered in 1997, was perhaps the most exhilarating creative experience of my life, as was the process of putting it all together for performance. I hope to be able to compose at least one other opera. So stay tuned!

The post A Conversation with Composer Shulamit Ran appeared first on The Instrumentalist.