It is also helpful to practice long tones with a tuner. This should enhance stability of pitch at different dynamic levels and during crescendos and decrescendos. Of course this prac­tice is meant to help the player recog­nize discrepancies in pitch and does not replace careful listening.
   Harmonics can be useful in practic­ing intonation and they benefit other aspects of playing such as flexibility and sound. Example #2, which is an example using harmonics, can be prac­ticed using low notes such as C, C#, D, and E, etc. In the example, play low C. Using the same low C fingering, play the first harmonic, which is mid­dle C.

   Next play the middle C fingering and try to match the pitch. Continue on up through the rest of the overtone series with the low C fingering.
   Another exercise using harmonics is to play G harmonic (on the space above the top line of the staff) while using the low C fingering. Change the G fingering while trying to match the pitches. Repeat this once and then move up chromatically to high C# (fingering low C# while sounding G# then play D to sound in A, etc.) I also recommend the harmonics exercises in the Trevor Wye Book 1 (Tone) on pages 6 and 37.
   It is also beneficial to practice "dif­ference tones" for intonation, which can be helpful when playing with other wind players. I refer the reader to an excellent article entitled "Wood­wind Intonation" by John Barcellona in the September 1998 edition of Flute Talk. Mr. Barcellona explains that when two notes are "played simultane­ously by two instruments" a third note is produced. This note is the resultant tone (or difference tone) which is pro­duced at the number of cycles per sec­ond that is the difference of the two frequencies being played. The Bar­cellona article has a chart which lists whether each interval should be played narrow or wide when trying to produce the difference tone. These intervals can be practiced by setting your tuner on one note and playing various intervals or by playing inter­vals with another wind player. On page 14 in the Trevor Wye practice Book #4 (Intonation and Vibrato) three tunes are written for two treble instruments with the resultant differ­ence tone notated.
   Another way to improve intonation is to rehearse and perform with a pianist. Playing with piano is helpful for many reasons; the player hears the work as the composer intended with accompaniment ( thus hearing the chords), and the flutist must adjust to play in tune with the piano. The piano is tuned to equal temperament, which means the octave is divided into twelve equal parts, making each exactly one-half-step equidistant. The flutist must listen carefully to the piano and make adjustments for pitch. Refer to the discussion in Practice Book #4 by Trevor Wye. Mr. Wye’s explanation on working with a piano (pages 6-8) in order to be more sensi­tized to the overtones is very helpful. I advise any young flutist to begin per­forming with piano as soon as they are able to. The students’ progress will be faster and more rewarding.
   Playing chamber music also sharp­ens the performers listening skills. You must be familiar with the other parts. All ensemble considerations, such as tempo, dynamics, balance and blend, are the responsibility of the players. Each member of an ensemble must be flexible with pitch. When there are disagreements in pitch, it is helpful to isolate the chord in question and tune it. The way to do this is for the players with the root of the chord to tune this note. Next, add those players with the fifth. When the fifth is in tune the players with the third should find where to place their note (in major chords with winds a low third is desir­able). Chamber music rehearsals are more efficient if someone brings a tuner and a score of the works being rehearsed. When using the tuner to correct intonation, have someone else check the tuner when you play your note so that you do not automatically change the note when you see whether it is tending sharp or flat. Remember, the tuner is used only as a guide to achieve the ultimate result of playing in tune with the ensemble. Be aware of the other person with whom you are playing and of your role in the entire mix. Sometimes we have the impor­tant line (or melody). Other times we share it with others or we have a counter melody or accompaniment. This is a life-long task. In orchestral playing, when a pitch discrepancy occurs it is a common practice to work out the intonation with the other player or players.
   Each person should decide which of these methods of improving intona­tion are most helpful for their needs. You will enjoy your music making more as you become more successful with intonation.

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   Because of this preoccupation with bowing, string players, in startling con­trast to their more conservative wind and brass brethren, have no qualms about revising printed slurs. Sometimes this is to make the bow changes proceed in a more logical manner for better phrasing, to make the printed accents more effective, or to increase volume.
   The latter is the most frequent case because at slow tempos long slurs in forte passages must be divided into shorter ones for faster bow speeds that produce more sound. The opening Un poco sostenuto of the Brahms First Symphony is a good example.

The violins and cellos have a continu­ous slur for the arching eight-bar theme, but Brahms did not mean this to be played in one bow. He wanted an intensely smooth musical line (his marking is forte expressive e legato) with seamless bow changes. Most orchestras average two bow changes per bar, but a few conductors will specify staggered bowing for a smoother sound, although it doesn’t look as good to the audience. Simultaneously the winds and violas have a long, legato counter­melody, but for them Brahms indicates a new slur in each bar except the sec­ond. In performances where double winds are used, staggered breathing works perfectly.
   In bars 19-20 the first violins double the descending first flute and bassoon line in octaves.

   Interestingly, most flutists and bas­soonists can easily play these two bars in one breath, but to sustain intensity the violins use at least two bow strokes. Though this may appear to be an unfortunate compromise, first-class string players are amazingly adept at hiding these bow changes.
   One passage in the first movement Allegro of Brahms’s First has always puzzled me. In bars 53-55 and in many analogous places the flutes, oboes, clarinets, and violins all have the same articulation notated, but the violins (and later the violas, cellos, and basses) interpret this as a standard notation for a hooked bow, meaning that the eighth notes are distinctly separated from the previous long note. At the same time the winds interpret this as a pure slur to the eighth note but make the eighth note short. Daniel Barenboim and Gunther Schuller¹ are to my knowledge the only conductors that ask the strings to slur this in the style of the winds.

   With other conductors the winds and strings merrily go their separate (or slurred) ways. I once asked Erich Leinsdorf about this articulation con­flict, and much to my surprise (he was normally a sticker for detail), he did­n’t deem it a problem. Brahms might have learned a lesson from this string/wind dichotomy, for I haven’t found a comparable example in any of his later works.
   Having seen too many overly-edited versions of Mozart flute concertos, I am reluctant to tamper with Mozart’s artic­ulations, but there is one articulation change in the first movement of the D major concerto (bar 87) that gives this passage more stylistic balance while making it easier to control: slurring all the sixteenths in two-note groups.

I was convinced this quasi-baroque interpretation was correct after hearing Emmanuel Pahud’s tasteful application of it in a beautiful recording with the Berlin Philharmonic (EMIC 56365), and I can well imagine a violinist jaun­tily adopting the same pattern. (See my "shifting-the beat" exercises for this passage in the April 2000 Flute Talk, page 23, and try the newly added two-­note slurs).
   Another deviation to consider is whenever rapid scales and arpeggios end with a single note on the following beat. Many composers write a slur across the beat while others detach the final note. Most of the 32nd-note scales in the last two pages of the Dutilleux Sonatine, for instance, are of the second variety but sound more effective and brilliant if slurred into the half-note trills. It is particularly suitable to slur into the high B# that ends the sweeping chromatic scale at [15] . Also consider slurring into the high F at [17] , and the F# on the first beat in the eighth bar of [10].
   The sixteenth-note scales in the Scherzo movement of the Prokofiev Sonata (between [13] and [14] are slurred across the barline, but in the International edition (Rampal) the final F is detached. Because of the fast octave leap this sometimes results in a pause – an undesirable sixteenth rest – before the final note. In the first move­ment of the same sonata the five aug­mented triad arpeggios to altissimo D beginning in the six bar of [7] are detached from the D, but the high D might pop out more reliably if slurred – definitively a performer’s option. It is interesting to note that in David Oistrakh’s composer-sanctioned tran­scription of this sonata for violin and piano, the same arpeggio is transmuted into a double-stop sequence topped off by a non-piercing harmonic D that is the envy of most flutists.
   Of course this slur-over-the-beat approach should not be applied if it offers no justifiable technical or musical advantage or if it violates the com­poser’s clear intent. I have heard perfor­mances and recordings of the Tchai­kovsky Fourth Symphony Scherzo movement (meno mosso section) where the first oboe, followed by unison first and second flutes slur four 32nd-notes into the subsequent sixteenth note, tonguing only the second sixteenth rather than playing the printed slur-­four-tongue-two articulation. This compromises the sparkling character of this famous passage.

   So with a tip of the hat (or bow) to the string players, we wind players could be more pliant in our attitude toward slur modifications; but remem­ber – if you detach, don’t divide; and if you slur, don’t smear.

¹ Gunther Schuller wrote a comprehensive 98-page performance analysis of the Brahms First in his excellent and provocative book, The Compleat Conductor (Oxford University Press, New York, 1997).

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What are your thoughts on the state of classical music in America today?
   There are probably more symphony orches­tras performing today than ever before. By virtue of the sheer num­bers of people, there is also a great deal of musi­cal activity and apprecia­tion for the classics in the United States. How­ever, I worry about it from the standpoint of proportion. For example, composing a symphony now is perhaps not as impor­tant or well accepted as writing a film score. In an age of book condensations and life that moves at a hectic pace, it’s difficult to cultivate the atmosphere to appreciate a great symphony.
   Though it hardly seems compatible with his character, Anton Bruckner responded to a complaint that his symphonies were too long by saying, "On the contrary, my friend, you are too short." I can understand that, because listening to a Bruckner sym­phony does take time and is meant for people who have the time to invest in it. It can’t be condensed because it would not survive in that form. To some extent Americans may have lost some of their willingness to invest spiritual and intellectual energy in great music.
   I’m saddened by the way many peo­ple in this country regard the arts as something nonessential to life. A young boy is taught to deal with the hard realities of the business world and make a living, and if he has the time and the means to buy a slim volume of poetry, well, that’s all right. In America if you ask what someone does, he will describe how he makes a living. In other countries a reply to the same ques­tion might be that someone writes poetry or climbs mountains, only later mentioning that he is a bank teller. From this point of view, it is more important who a person is than what he does.
    Many countries encourage voluntary support for the arts, which includes offi­cial government support. There isn’t much official support in the United States; here arts agencies are under constant attack to cut back their budgets. That kind of philistine thinking bothers me.
   Years ago I met a Greek merchant on a plane. At that time I’d never been to Greece and explained how anxious I was to see the ancient glories, such as the Acropolis and the Parthenon. He actually said, "Oh, well that’s all ruined, you know. I have a group of friends who are trying to clear that out to put up some mod­ern buildings." That the treasures of the world are under such pressures is pretty scary.

 
You’ve met a number of celebrated musi­cians in your lifetime. Who among them stands out?
   Once I shook hands with Sergei Rachmaninoff and was impressed with the size of his hands. I later heard he could play a glissando in tenths. Actually, many musicians I’ve encountered were cello virtuosos. I interviewed Emanuel Feuermann, Gregor Piatigorsky, and Pablo Casals, and more recently I’ve gotten to know Yo-Yo Ma.
   Of course, Vladimir Horowitz, whom I interviewed for the Today Show in the 1960s, also comes to mind. He was rather formal and slightly aloof. While I couldn’t call him warm, he was certainly not abrasive. His wife, Wanda, seemed forbidding at first, but became sympathetic as she realized I appreciated her husband’s artistry. As we talked about music he played for me with a powerful touch but with nuance. Had I struck the piano with that much force he probably would have advised me not to abuse it.
   I’ve known Isaac Stern for many years. He has always been generous to young musicians and was responsible for saving Carnegie Hall from the wrecker’s ball. While I was laid up in the hospi­tal after hurting my back, he brought me a pair of prism glasses so I could read. It was there that we agreed with a handshake that I would sell him my apartment. Isaac always modestly refers to himself as the world’s second greatest violinist, but refuses to answer any question that suggests the greatest.
   I also remember my interview with guitarist Andres Segovia for 20/20 while I was in Madrid for his 94th birthday. The piece was a salute to Segovia, but he died while we were editing it. Instead we wrote the narra­tion in past tense and it became a eulogy. Everyone in the business was curious about how we managed to put it together so quickly.

Is there a reason you keep a low profile as a composer?
   Winston Churchill once said about Clement Atlee, "He’s a humble man, and he has a lot to be humble about." In 1946 while working on the Elegiac Prelude for Orchestra, I had no fear about the terrible things the critics might say about my music. Now I’m terrified. I can imagine some critic complaining, "Not bad for an ama­teur." It withers me just to think about it. The likely reason is that now, hav­ing attained some visibility in broad­casting, I would like to be accepted on the same level but as a composer, which will probably never happen.

Describe your earliest attempts at writing music.
   Though I sensed my limitations early on, music always intrigued me. I took violin lessons from age five and studied the piano as well. After picking out tunes on the piano, I found ways to vary them, which offered the thrill of creating something different that I could call my own. At age 13, I wrote a musical setting to Psalm 13, which my family’s church organist per­formed. There’s something about a pipe organ that imposes upon any composition a dignity that it may or may not deserve. That gave me the idea to write something for orchestra, so in lieu of studying composition, I read Forsythe, Prout, and Rimsky­Korsakov, more or less teaching myself orchestration. I also studied the works of Joseph Schillinger, a Russian-born theorist and composer who advocated a weird, mathemati­cally based system, proposing that certain harmonic progressions were related to spirals. I didn’t want to write slide-scale music, though.

What is the origin of one of your first works, the Elegiac Prelude for Orchestra?
   At age 22 I joined N.B.C.’s central division staff in Chicago. With light duties I had frequent stretches of free time as well as empty studios, many with grand pianos. I began writing pieces, and occasionally the N.B.C. Orchestra was kind enough to play them while on standby. The Elegiac Prelude was first performed while the orchestra and some staff members, including myself, were standing by during the 1948 presidential election returns for Truman vs. Dewey. Some years later Skitch Henderson con­ducted the piece with the St. Louis Symphony, which was still under the direction of Vladimir Golsch­mann. I heard it only once after that, on the radio the day John Ken­nedy was assassinated; evidently someone found a tape of it in the N.B.C. library. Given its elegiac nature, it conformed to the somber music the network broadcast through­out that day.
   To date other pieces I’ve composed include Sand­writing, which was played by the N.B.C. Orchestra on a late night show, and a few piano pieces, such as An Old Familiar Air That Has its Own Tuxedo and Will Travel. In 1952 I wrote the music to a nuevo-western pop song called The Ride Back from Boot Hill, which was recorded for RC.A. by Gogi Grant. It was on the charts but never went gold or platinum.
   Some years ago I spoke on a radio pro­gram with Deems Taylor, who called himself America’s most unprolific com­poser. I told him that as a composer I had him beat, insofar as I was even more unprolific than he. Broadcasting keeps me busy; I need large blocks of time to get something going when I compose.

Who nurtured your appreciation for the arts?
   I have vivid memories of my parents playing the violin, trumpet, and piano, as well as listening to a collec­tion of operatic arias on a Victrola. My mother was a fairly good violinist who did some concert work while my father, who introduced my brother and me to chamber music, played tol­erably on the trumpet. I can remember listening to chamber music on the radio on Sunday mornings. At first I hated it, in that I associated chamber music with dressing up for church, and yet it planted a seed. Chamber music means a lot to me now.

With regard to your piano music, is the technical level suitable for students?
   Yes. That is partly because until I could write beyond my ability to play, I had to play the work at the piano first, then write it down.

What inspired An Old Familiar Air?
   In part I was inspired by the amusing title of a piece written by my friend Don Gilles, an N .B.C. producer, called The January February March. While working for the Kukla, Fran and Ollie Show, I met the studio pianist, Caesare Giovannini, who would play the bass part of I Got Rhythm while I played chords – not the melody – in the upper part. It was comical. When he played a tune called The Girls in France, which had somewhat ribald lyrics, I decided it might be fun to write a few variations on it, and An Old Familiar Air was the result.

Who were your most important musical infiuences?
   The sincerity of Anton Bruckner’s music inspires me. If Brahms was great in a somewhat aloof way, Bruckner’s greatness reflects a sort of naivete; his soul just pours out of him. Nineteenth­century music resonates in me; it is so intriguing because of the dichotomy of different musical streams. One links Weber to Beethoven and Brahms while another resulted in Wagner, Bruckner, Mahler, Strauss, and later on Schoen­berg, Berg, and perhaps Varese.

How do you relate to late 20th-century music?
   I confess to not understanding cer­tain kinds of modern music, but I hes­itate to condemn it because I remem­ber a time when all the music com­posed by Brahms seemed badly astray to me. I thought that Debussy, Ravel, and Stravinsky were com­pletely off the rails, but later came to under­stand their greatness. So it’s possible I’ll yet grasp Elliott Carter, Wallingford Riegger, and Philip Glass. I have heard things in the world of Krystof Pen­derecki, John Adams, and Alfred Schnittke that may bring me to a full understanding and appreciation of what they are doing. How­ever, I may never be able to do what they do. Of course, it’s over­whelmingly likely that I also will never be able to do what Bach and Beethoven did.
   I was brought up in a strictly classical house­hold, with Bach, Mo­zart, and Beethoven as the foundation of my family’s musical diet. A friend brought over a recording of Stravin­sky’s Firebird, and my parents simply looked at each other in horror as if they were hearing pure noise.
   I find that contemporary music tends to fall into two sharply divided categories. One can be profoundly disturbing, such as that of Pen­derecki, and because it’s so disturbing it may in fact be great; perhaps I’m not hearing it yet. Nevertheless, something about the music grabs my attention, so I think that such works are a serious attempt to codify some­thing aesthetic.
   The other category is, for me, simply silly. There may be great intellectual depth, like a finely played chess game, in the music of certain composers, such as Elliott Carter, but I don’t hear what they are doing from an aesthetic stand­point. It’s as if they are attempting to make sure that nothing consonant, harmonic, or sonorous ever happens. When they succeed I often think, "They’ve got to be kidding."

What is the value of the arts in society today?
   The bottom line is that the arts are important. I have the feeling that any­body without the ability to appreciate aesthetics is not quite fully alive. Music is so important that I cannot imagine living without it. For me it’s a window to some kind of salvation; whatever there is spiritual in life is most closely approached by great music.

Did you ever consider pursuing a career in music rather than broadcasting?
   No. I began broadcasting at age 17 and didn’t have much opportunity for anything else. Music was always a hobby, but certainly there were moments when I thought about it. In my family only my brother became a professional musician; he was a flutist with the Dallas Symphony and once performed in recital with Jean-Pierre Rampal. At times I’d like to turn back the clock and master an instrument, perhaps co study the piano seriously. I’d still love to study conducting.

I understand you are working on a piece for Yo-Yo Ma.
   Yo-Yo surprised me on the air during a Live From Lincoln Center broadcast. In the middle of the interview he said, "I understand you’re a composer. If you write something for cello, I’ll play it." When I heard that, my hair stood on end! The piece will likely be called Negantropy, which is a negatively entropic process. In entropy things go from order to chaos – it’s the second law of thermodynamics – but I wanted to start with truly random ideas. The concept of the piece is that something develops out of chaos into a kind of modal sound, and out of that comes the thematic material that evokes 19th century musical romanticism.

You’ve created an impressive body of work on radio and television, but how do you envision your musical legacy?
   As long as it’s considered for what it is, my music might develop a life of its own within a category of com­posers who are not known for com­posing. Even some who were known were professionals in other fields. Borodin, for example, was a chemist, and Rimsky-Korsakov was a Navy man. Your recording brought my attention to the music of Nietzsche, and even actor Lionel Barrymore wrote orchestral music. This is prob­ably the only way I could leave any kind of musical legacy. I can’t imag­ine that my work will gather a coterie of fans.

If you could step back into the past to meet one of the great composers, what would you ask?
   In the film Immortal Beloved, Beethoven, played by Gary Oldman, tried to explain his music to a friend. "When you hear a waltz," he explained, "you dance. When you hear military music, you march. What is it you’re expected to do when you hear a sym­phony?" He suggested that the listener try to get into the mind of the com­poser to decide what inspired the music. Something in the labyrinth of great music stuns me with this ques­tion: what was so urgent that com­pelled a composer to write a particular thing? Even if I had the opportunity to converse with a great composer, I doubt he could explain it; but that is what’s so great in music: its urgency, its nobility, and the human ability to hear and understand these qualities.

How would you sum up your musical phi­losophy?
   It’s said that animals have music: birds sing, whales sing. What man calls music is different because we are the only species that pays attention to the mathematical relationships between different tones. I believe the combina­tions of different rhythms and musical tones resonate within us to create an aesthetic satisfaction. Hearing great music makes us say, "Yes, that’s right." This in tum may relate to the more spiritual aspects of our lives.
   I’ve always wondered about the development of polyphonic music. Even in the days of ancient Greece there were strict rules governing the use of modes, and attempts to intro­duce polyphony didn’t work. It all sounded dissonant at the beginning so man had to develop a matrix for judg­ing it. Imagine the tolerance people had to build. This evolved from a long musical background, going back to the days when man blew in a bone or beat an animal skin to produce sound. Someday I’d love to produce a docu­mentary on the origins of human music. It would be wonderful to put out a set of C.D.s that brings it all together.  

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End of Andante in Prokofiev’s Sonata.

   For this passage and for a 1,000 oth­ers, don’t think only of your lips. Keep a stable embouchure. Feel your weight on your feet. Use your center of grav­ity. Sink into the ground. Imagine that the muscles in your thighs connect to the support muscles, the abs. As Moyse said, "Changing your lips to play in dif­ferent registers is like the pianist who moves the stool to play the low notes."

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   Practice is an emotionally charged word for many of us. We know that, on the mechanical level, comprehensive and thoughtful practice is essential to allow for accuracy, control, and freedom of expression. Methodical and meticulous attention to fundamentals forms the key to unlock our limitless potential. To flourish as a performing musician, we accept that this journey has no end, and it is up to us to portion our time wisely.
   When we set aside precious time to practice, efficiency is paramount. Create a plan that is highly structured, yet flexible. Welcome challenges, but recognize frustration and give permission for patience and compromise. Allow experimentation and empowerment into your practice space. Trade self-doubt for trust and acceptance. All of this requires honesty and diligence, followed by a heightened sense of awareness. After all, our art requires listening at the highest level, whether we want to improve our skills, bring our best game to our colleagues, or mentor others.

   I continually cycle through a variety books by flutists, other musicians, and those who study optimum performance analysis from other subjects, including athletes. One of my favorites is The Talent Code: Greatness isn’t Born, it is Grown by Daniel Coyle (Arrow Books) for guidance and inspiration. Coyle clearly outlines the powerful connection between effective practice and the brain, tips for what he describes as deep practice, and more. Such thought-provoking observations provide insight and motivation in my practice and with my teaching.
   Flutists have a staggering amount of warm ups, studies, and etudes from which to choose. It is preferable to stay within the boundaries of a proven method, under the care of a meticulous teacher, until good habits are firmly established. That being said, there may be a time when it is necessary to substitute one method for another perspective. For example, I used the Taffanel & Gaubert 17 Big Daily Exercises for years until my book was in tatters. After replacing it with a fresh copy, I was weary of looking at the same exercises, most of which I’d memorized, anyway. So, I moved to the Moyse Daily Exercises, and was immediately energized. I later augmented my routine with Trevor Wye, Barrère, Maquarre, Reichert, and so on. I eventually settled comfortably into a solid routine while rotating a half dozen books or so at a time. I am currently in the same scale book I have used for over 7 years. Even though I have replaced the cover, it still feels fresh and challenging every single day.
   I cannot overstate the effectiveness of harmonics, whistle tones, and vibrato studies. They have become the only way to start my practice: they not only quiet the frenetic chatter in my brain, but they help me find my chops more efficiently. They are convenient to play at any time of the day or night, because they won’t wake up my family or neighbors, or distract my colleagues backstage. However, when I was younger, it was a struggle to begin my practice with Moyse’s De la Sonorité because it was too slow and tedious for my frame of mind. I decided to shift the order of my routine to begin with my T&G series. Once that was complete, I was calm enough to listen deeply to Moyse. Bottom line: trust yourself and, if you are stuck, make adjustments.

   There are differing schools of thought regarding the use of long tones. It used to be more acceptable for teachers to recommend (or perhaps, demand) a solid hour of long tones prior to the beginning of a practice session. While this still works for some flutists, the trend has loosened somewhat over the years with the addition of a wide variety of harmonics exercises. Frankly, who has that kind of time? I prefer shorter, yet highly concentrated, exercises that I can do with my students, between lessons, or right before a rehearsal. They fit into my lifestyle, which is usually fraught with interruptions. There are time-tested, even potent, exercises still popular today from the likes of George Barrère, Frances Blaisdell, and William Kincaid. I especially enjoy newer harmonics routines that include scales, popular tunes, and even opera excerpts.
   A word about scales: YES. In all forms, speeds, shapes, articulations, dynamics, etc. Most books will suggest options. If so, try them all. Invent your own patterns. Even better, include forms and styles which complement particular challenging sections in your solo repertoire. For instance, if your solo has a daunting triple tonguing passage, then practice scales in that form. Remember the essential ingredient of effective articulation is your airstream. Modify your scale practice to support your solo repertoire, orchestral excerpts, and flute choir repertoire. Be prepared to adapt: Taffanel & Gaubert’s Ex. 1&2 begin on D1 and progress to B3. Perhaps that was an accomplishment when it was first published in 1923; however, it is highly impractical by today’s standards. Begin that exercise on a C1 and take it up into the 4th octave, as high as you dare. Having troubles with clean fingerings in the 3rd octave? Play those passages in quarter notes, or chunk them in groups of 4. Tailor the speed and articulations to suit your current needs. Be honest. Always reassess your flute set up, posture, and hand position. Consider the wealth of variations in George and Louke’s The Flute Scale Book, including Wiggles, Short Scales, Left Hand Scales, and more. Our bread and butter now exists at the top of the 3rd octave and into the 4th octave in much 21st century band repertoire (think the great David Maslanka.)
    Consider extracting challenging technical passages from your solos and orchestral excerpts to create your own effective exercises. Practice them outside of your solo practice. Create an assortment of rhythms, articulations, styles: again, make it your own, and remember deep practice. Refer to The Aspiring Flutist’s Practice Companion by Terri Sánchez (Carolyn Nussbaum Music) for a wealth of practice variations. This also pertains to the business of beautiful legato intervals, delicately tapered notes in exposed sections of solo, orchestral, band, chamber repertoire, often the very last note, the note everyone remembers at a performance. Think the eloquent final note of Copland’s Appalachian Spring, the final five notes of the 2nd movement of Brahms’ Symphony No. 4, the evocative opening of Debussy’s Prélude à l’après-midi d’un faune – incorporate those sensitive notes into your daily routine so those moments create magic.

   Etudes are, says Michel Debost, “a kind of super sightreading. Their aim is to cultivate, for about a week each, the ability to read ahead, willpower, and concentration.” One of my former teachers assigned an overwhelming number of etudes each week. Of course, they had to be accurate, or I would have to repeat them for yet another week, which would have been torture. Before playing, I checked the key and time signatures, searched for melodies buried under piles of notes, studied phrases (helpful for breath marks), and located the recapitulation. Upon further study, assessed similarities/variations; added markings (whole steps/half steps; chords/inversions/scales/use of B flat thumb key/etc.) If there were trills, grace notes, or other ornamentation, they were practiced separately. Then I started to play. This not only improved my etude study, but absolutely everything else I was working on.
    Working your way through the standard etudes will do wonders for your reading skills, in every key and style. Remember to play with your most beautiful tone. Clean attacks and controlled note endings are paramount. Practice the rules of phrasing. Experiment for the most effective ritards and other transitions. Practice in chunks. Strive for accuracy and fluency. If you encounter a bump in a passage, mark it, polish it, and then restart the phrase – not the bar – so you will hear it and play accurately every time. There can added fun along the way by augmenting your study with etudes by jazz, artists or specialists in extended techniques, even playing duets with etudes (the Carol Wincenc editions of Andersen Op. 33 and Op. 15 plus the Berbiguier 18 Exercises (Keiser Music) for two flutes) to share the wealth with a practice buddy. The possibilities are endless.
    Helpful practice tools include a metronome capable of subdivisions and volume adjustment, a recorder (a phone will suffice) for analysis and study, and a tuner. For an added dimension, consider tuning to organ drones. Excellent resources can be found on the websites of Drs. Terry (Bassoon Digital Professor) and flutist Laurel A. Ewell, which can be copied and saved to your computer. With each two-minute drone, rich in overtones, we have time to adjust as the overtones move in and out of phase. This is most beneficial during our current days of solitary practice, and will prepare us for when we will again resume playing together.
   
To develop your personal routine, select from the following books:
Recommended Flute Study Repertoire: Tone, Technique, Etudes

I. Tone
Pierre-Yves Artaud: Harmoniques (Billaudot)
Paul Edmund-Davies: Simply Flute Study Programme ()
Robert Dick: Tone Development through Extended Techniques (Multiple Breath)
Patricia George and Phyllis Avidan Louke: The Flute Scale Book: The Path to Artistry; Advanced Flute Studies: The Art of Chunking; The Flute Vibrato Book (Presser)
Marcel Moyse: De la Sonorité (Leduc) and Tone Development through Interpretation (McGinnis & Marx)
Clare Southworth: Light Aerobics; Aerobics; Flute Reboot (Just Flutes)
Mark Sparks: Exploring the Sound: Tone Development Through Orchestra Repertoire (Mark Sparks)
Trevor Wye: Tone, Vol. 1 (Novello)

II. Technique
George Barrère: The Flutist’s Formulae (Schirmer)
Robert Cavally: Scale Studies and Velocity Studies (Robert Cavally)
Paul Edmund-Davies: 28 Day Warm Up and Simply Flute Study Programme ()
Patricia George and Phyllis Avidan Louke: The Flute Scale Book; Flute 102; Flute 103; Advanced Flute Studies: The Art of Chunking (Presser)
Geoffrey Gilbert: Technical Flexibility and Sequences (Southern Music)
C.L. Hanon: The Virtuoso Pianist (Schirmer)
Walfrid Kujala: The Flutist’s Vade Mecum (Progress)
Andre Maquarre: 7 Daily Exercises, Op. 5 (Schirmer)
Terri Sánchez: The Aspiring Flutist’s Sound & Scale Book (Carolyn Nussbaum)
Robert Stallman: Flute Workout (International); The Flutist’s Handbook (Carl Fischer); The Flutist’s Détaché Book (Schirmer)
Paul Taffanel and Philippe Gaubert: The Complete Method (Leduc); 17 Daily Exercises (Leduc)
Trevor Wye: All Exercises and Studies (Novello)
D.S. Wood: Studies for the 3rd Octave (Carl Fischer)
John Wummer: 12 Daily Exercises (Carl Fischer)

III. Etudes
Marc Adler: Jazz Flute Etudes (Houston)
Henri Altès: 26 Etudes (Leduc)
Joachim Andersen: Op. 41, 37, 33, 21, 30, 15, 63, 60 (various)
J.S. Bach (trans. Amy Porter): Six Cello Suites for Flute (Carl Fischer)
J.S. Bach (trans. Robert Stallman): 33 Solos; 66 Pieces; The Well-Tempered Flutist (International)
Laura Barron (compiled & ed.): Expressive Etudes (Carl Fischer)
A.M.R. Barret: Oboe Method (various)
Benoit Berbiguier (ed. Wincenc & Wagorn): 18 Studies (Keiser) [2 fl. Optional]
Jacques Castérède: 12 Etudes (Leduc)
Robert Cavally: Melodious & Progressive Studies, Vol. 1-4 (Robert Cavally)
Tillmann Denhard: The New Flute (Universal)
Johannès Donjon: 8 Études de Salon (Whirlwind Press)
Louis Drouet: 25 Études célèbres (various)
Katherine Hoover: Etudes (Papagena Press)
Sigfrid Karg-Elert: 30 Caprices, Op. 107 (various) & 20 Progressive Studies, from Op. 41 and Op. 153 (Southern)
Mike Mower: The Modern Flute Player (Itchy Fingers)
Marcel Moyse: 24 Petites Etudes Melodiques; 25 Etudes Melodiques (Leduc)
Ali Ryerson: Jazz Flute Practice Method (Thistle Cottage)
Niccolò Paganini: 24 Caprices (International)
Astor Piazzolla Tango Etudes (Lemoine)
Gary Schocker: 10 Etudes (Presser)
Phil Snedecor: 20 Lyric Etudes (PAS Music)
All Etudes by Boehm, Bozza, Demersseman, Fühler, Furstenau, Gariboldi, Genzmer, Hughes, Jeanjean, Köhler, Kuhlau, Kummer, Moyse, Platonov, Schade, Tulou, Wye

* * *

Here is the current routine for both my students and me.

Daily Flute Workout Challenge Materials:
1. The Flute Scale Book: A Path To Artistry
2. Advanced Flute Studies: The Art Of Chunking
3. The Flute Vibrato Book
All by Patricia George and Phyllis Avidan Louke (Presser)
Handouts and/or suggested supplementary materials, optional

Part I: The Art Of Chunking (10-15 min.)
Daily Warm Up: p. 8-9 [vary Loops & Diminuendos, as suggested]

Part II: The Flute Scale Book (20-30 min.)
1. À la carte [10-15 min.] from Chapter 3: Warm Ups and Embouchure Development (p. 37-48) including Headjoint only (Two and Three Notes); L.H. Scales and Harmonics; Balancing the Flute; Trills for Balance; Octave Variations; Third Octave Wiggles; Short Scales; L.H. Melody exercises.
2. Five-Note Scale Patterns, p. 77 [start with 1 octave/day; increase to all octaves]
3. Tone Color Scales, p. 84 [start with 3 major/3 minor scales/day, including 8va; increase to 6, 9, 12, etc.]
4. Two-Octave Scales in 3rds, p. 57 (Major & Relative Melodic Minor) [start with 4/day; rotate articulations]; Wiggles in 3rds or 6ths optional.
5. Ascending Arpeggios, p. 62 or Descending Arpeggios, p. 64 (Major, Minor, Diminished, Augmented) [start w/one page/day; rotate]
6. Chromatic: Vary routine from suggestions in Chapter 6. Extra: Pellerite Chromatic Tonguing Exercises, p. 132.
7. Two Octave Scales, p.51: One scale/day. Extra: Major scale plus relative minors/day
8. Choose from supplemental exercises, technical passagework from solo(s): 5 min./day. [Step up: 20 min./day]

Part III: The Flute Scale Book (10-15 min.) **take short breaks**
Monday: p. 94 Pedal Point Arpeggios or P. 99: Pedal Point Broken Arpeggios
Tuesday: p. 61 Arpeggios and Chord Progressions
Wednesday: p. 107 Kuhlau Bass
Thursday: p. 110 7th Chords or p. 113 Broken 7th Chords
Friday: p. 120 Select from Chapter 6, p. 20 including Modal; Whole tone; Octatonic; Pentatonic; Blues, etc.
Saturday: p. 116 Dominant 7th Chords

Part IV: The Flute Vibrato Book (15-20 min.)
Include various exercises plus 1-2 melodies daily. Vary octaves. Add your favorite melodies. May be broken up throughout the day.

Part V: The Art Of Chunking (15-20 min.)
One complete lesson; include 8va’s. Proceed in sequence.
Take breaks, when necessary.
Prelude/Cadenza

Part VI: Etudes (15-20 min.)
As assigned: 2-3 etudes/week

Part VII: Solo(s); Band & Orchestral excerpts; Chamber Music (30 min.)

Notes: Times are suggested; adjust, as needed. Remember: quality, not quantity. Never play with any pain or discomfort; seek counsel and be open for modifications in posture, hand position, habits. Set a timer, only if helpful. Stop, and mark your place with a post it note; pick up and continue from there next time. No guilt allowed.
    Keep track of progress with a notebook or practice planner (recommended: Molto Music Practice Planner, )

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