Who has most influenced your career?
   There are many influ­ences, but the first and foremost was my father. I wanted to play the flute because I heard it at home; however, my father was not in favor of me playing the flute because he feared it would distract me from my studies. In fact, that’s exactly what hap­pened: I went as far as third year in medical school, but my heart wasn’t really in it.

Your father was a student of the old French School. How did the French School evolve from Hennebains and Gaubert through Marcel Moyse?
   Marcel Moyse followed his personality and strayed somewhat from the Hennebains and Gaubert school, but not entirely; it was always a point of reference. Actually, my impression is that Marcel Moyse wanted to expand the flute’s capabil­ities, like a violinist, as it were. He wanted to play the flute differently. To that effect, he had to change the school itself: it was unavoidable. He forced his sound and was criticized for covering or having a heavy sound; he strayed from the Gaubert and Hennebains line. I think their teaching encouraged will power – as Moyse himself – to create another sound. Gaubert and Hennebains had con­siderable facility. Moyse told me many times about their exceptional lips and fingers. He, on the con­trary, had not been so lucky. He had to work very hard on the instrument. He blamed his son Louis for not working hard enough. He said, "I worked like a beast." It was difficult for Louis to follow in his father’s footsteps. Marcel Moyse worked hard, and that is why he wrote so many volumes of flute studies.
   The last time I saw Moyse in Brattleboro, he was still patiently writing simple exercises by hand: C­-C#-D, D-D#-E. They were elementary, but he always worked on the sound. He changed the way he played over the years, because from what I gath­ered through his American students, he emphasized a natural lip flexibility. At first he played somewhat tightly, but then he returned to the Gaubert or Hennebains style of natural playing. I was lucky to follow this school not only through my father, but also through the influence of other virtuosos of the piano, violin, and opera, and by orchestral music. These influenced my style and phrasing.

Was it difficult for you to learn flute technique?  
   No. I started to play the flute when I was 12. I was so excited because I wanted to play for years, but I had to wait, so I progressed quickly. When I enrolled at the Marseilles Conservatoire in October, I knew almost nothing. At that time, to be accepted, a student had to play one of the lessons in the Altes Method. I played the third les­son, et voila! By the end of the school year I played the second and third movements of the Mozart G major Concerto, and I played them well. My father did not want me to get my first prize because he did not have enough students. This was the main rea­son I was in the class: he had only 4 students, and the director told him he would have to teach solfege if there weren’t any more students. He would have been mortified, so he accepted me to increase the number of students in his class. As you can imag­ine, it was out of the question to get my prize the first year. By my second year I won my prize with­out any problem playing the Perilhou Ballade.

Did you play many duos with your father?
   Wow, yes! We started playing easy duets by Devienne and Altes. He always played the second flute to accompany, which was excellent for intona­tion, for musicality, for everything. In his teaching, my father was a real tyrant: he would not forgive a mistake of even one note. I could not begin a new Altes lesson until the previous ones were learned.
   That is the genius of the Altes method that oth­ers lack. Many excellent beginner books, methods, or well-conceived exercises have been written since, but the Altes remains the best. A good pro­fessor shouldn’t ignore any aspect of sound, intona­tion, pulse, rhythm, and style. The first Altes lessons don’t seem difficult but are extremely well thought out and efficient. When playing the first note a student learns phrasing with a natural, ele­mentary flexibility. The progression may seem diffi­cult at times, but when a lesson is well learned, the next one seems perfectly logical. This method will never go out of style.

Has opera also influenced your musicianship?
   Yes, opera has always interested me, especially male voices such as the French tenor Georges Thill. He was a wonderful example of style, diction, and phrasing. His singing was instinctive and nat­ural: the aria from Gluck’s Alceste, for instance, is a monument of phrasing. You cannot find a bet­ter example to learn the fine style and smooth phrasing of Mozart. Everyone should listen to his recordings. His music has indisputably influenced me.

At what age do you think a student should start playing the flute?
   The best age is between 10 and 12. Before that, not much is accomplished. A child has to be well-­developed physically for the flute. Not only is size important for breathing and arms, but also for the hands. Fewer bad habits develop while the bones are still soft. It is not good to start too late either, around 18 to 20, but it’s perfect between 11 and 15.

Do you insist on the concept of natural flute playing?
   Yes, it’s the key to everything. A good professor teaches students to develop every aspect of flute playing naturally. With certain exceptions, it is difficult for a child of 7 or 8 to adopt a position in which he feels completely at ease with the instrument. A nat­ural posture allows a player to build every aspect of playing with natural breathing. I often cite the exam­ple of a diver as he comes out of the water: he does not need to suck in air, he only has to open his mouth. When playing the flute, there is no hin­drance, no obstacle, no tightness between the base of the air column and the flute. A natural position allows a flutist to play expressively as well. Certain things have to be learned, such as breathing deeply and maintaining air pressure in great phrases or long runs, but that comes with experience and is acquired naturally. It is necessary to breathe in the same fashion as speaking or singing. In fact, a pro­fessor should always be alert to teach naturally and help to correct defects by listening carefully.
   I still remember the lessons of the French School. For example, Hennebains said: "You must nourish the scales", and my father repeated this often to me. Scales are not simply a succession of meaningless notes. Something has to connect each note. The great bassoonist Maurice Allart said that scales should be played as if performing a concerto. My father told me the same thing about the Taffanel and Gaubert scales. Actually, scales are as interest­ing as a concerto. Without the scales, precious lit­tle remains of a concerto.

How did pianist Pierre Barbizet help you develop as a musician?
   We spent much time together sightreading. We read from old arrangements for flute or violin and piano of the Beethoven, Mozart, and Schubert sym­phonies. We read violin sonatas, everything! It was a real frenzy. If young players want to have a career or at least play very well, music must be a passion. If you force yourself to practice one hour of flute every single day, you will never succeed. You must be truly passionate. Music is the food we need to survive. In the same way, a child should not be forced to play. That’s why I never pushed my chil­dren because they were not passionate about it. Jean-Jacques is a violin maker and plays well for an amateur, but he would never have been able to make a career, even as an orchestral player. On the contrary, it’s a good sign if the instrument has to be wrestled from someone. He might not make a dizzy­ing career, but he will play well. What is important for everyone, deep down, is not to have an enor­mous career but to live well and enjoy life. My father did not have a huge career but he enjoyed himself all his life!

What do you think about the present level of flute playing?
   It’s magnificent! The quality and general level have improved so much that soon it will be neces­sary to require superhuman pieces for first rounds of competition. Today flutists have hallucinating vir­tuosity. Even when I taught at the Paris Conservatoire (1969-1981) I noticed that the tech­nical level was increasing very quickly. Once I brought in Briccialdi’s Concertina on Bellini’s La Sonnambula, but the students were not interested. A few years later, we worked on the flute transcrip­tion of Mendelssohn’s Violin Concerto, and some played it as if it were a picnic.
   The steady progression of flute playing actually started in the 1950s. Certain works that measured difficulty quickly changed. Jacques lbert himself, whose concerto written for Marcel Moyse was con­sidered one of the most difficult pieces ever written, was astonished when students could play it easily. By the same token, who is afraid to play Andre Jolivet’s Chant de Linos? Everywhere I meet extraor­dinary flutists. Even if they sometimes forget to sing or phrase well, they are able to understand and integrate new concepts quite quickly. The future may not shine for everybody because of the stiff competition and the considerable number of flutists, but music will certainly benefit from increasing levels of musicianship. It may not be possible to do better; I don’t know how far it can go. Maybe it will seem as easy as electronics, but already, it seems there is no room for error.

Do you think that such playing is a detriment to musicality?
   Oh no, it goes without saying that the technical level improves; technique has to be perfected so that it can be forgotten. Technique has to be strong so the performer is no longer conscious of it and can then make only music. Even if you are very musical and have an enormous heart, without the means to express yourself, that heart remains very small and no one see it. Even if someone knows music well and has an extraordinarily artistic spirit and fabulous phrasing, if he lacks technique, he cannot take advantage of all his qualities.
   Now technique is not everything. With only technique and no musicality, everyone will be bored after 15 minutes. Many flutists with astound­ing fingers leave me profoundly indifferent. In moments such as that, I don’t like the flute. If there is no phrasing, no pouring out of the guts, then too bad; technique is virtuosic, but a player also has to sing. Such a player should not be surprised when he does not win anything, and this phenomenon does not concern only the flute.
   Optimally technique services the music, not just the flute. The flute is not an end in itself, it is only a means: we play the flute and through it we express what we feel. The flute is not important. I have a hard time understanding all the emphasis on trying new head joints and flutes. Expression is what counts, not the flute.

How do you give priority to expression and music and still be passionate about the instrument?
   In spite of what many think, it is not incompati­ble. Be passionate about the instrument, but aware of the intimate measure of things, to the point where technique may be forgotten. There is a dif­ference between passion and obsession. I have always been passionate about the flute and I still am, but not blindly. When I play, I no longer try to amaze people by technique or flute effects. That is not interesting. Many flutists today know how to bring everything out of their instrument, with unbelievable embouchure and dynamics, but in my opinion, they do not put them to good use. Some interpretations become demonstrations. It’s even more of a shame when those people are deeply musical, because they don’t realize how they can touch the listener. If there are too many effects, it becomes senseless. The effect is not to demonstrate the flute; it has to proceed from an exceptional musical intention.
   To reach that point, you have to be in great shape and forget about the instrument; that’s when we start to make music. Isaac Stern once said, "When I’m playing well, it seems as if my violin has disap­peared. I can’t see it anymore." This is also true for the audience: when the instrument disappears, the artist is in great shape and the concert will be great. It goes without saying that this does not happen all the time. Life would be a bit difficult and sad if you ceaselessly forgot your instrument. It’s good to have it under control and to feel it.

How can a player reach perfection while forgetting the instrument? Could perfection be the enemy of good?
   I still think that this is the only way to reach a pinnacle on the flute. Many people never take risks, do not want them, and in fact work to that end. It is regrettable to practice long tones with a tuner, for example: you have to play with your ears or it’s not worthwhile. If you don’t, you cannot, among other things, realize colors in the sound. Colors can only be produced by the ears and the brain. They are seen and then produced with an imagined sound. You cannot teach someone to do this or that. You play in your head, you look else­where, and you do it with your lips. For me the one who does not take risks is not a complete artist. Take the risk of falling on your face, maybe crack a few notes, or play a couple of notes a bit out of tune. If you do not take any risks, it is obvious . Those who play carefully are often boring, to say the least. Many play sadly, obsessed by not making an mis­takes. I know many such players who should let go a little, but they cannot. This is often the conse­quence of playing in the orchestra. Orchestral flutists want at all costs to be perfect; they play evenly and cleanly.
   Having said this, playing cleanly has more than one meaning. My father, for example, was very musical. For him, the word "clean" was ideal. Above all it meant that he felt perfectly comfort­able with what he was hearing. After a concert he once told Isasc Stern: "Bravo, Isaac. It’s beautiful what you do. It’s clean." Some compliment! Luckily I had warned Isaac and he was very touched because it was a heartfelt compliment from my father.
   Always seek progress in every area to increase your means and to be free of the instrument, but do not hesitate to take risks or chances. Perfection in itself is not an ideal because it does not exist, but there are exceptional moments, states of grace.

Has your insatiable curiosity about repertoire aug­mented your career?
   Certainly. First I was passionate about music; even when I was only 13 or 14, I wanted to know everything, to play everything. Later, this curiosity helped me make people aware of the flute. Before that nobody really knew the baroque and classical repertoire, except for Bach sonatas, Mozart concer­tos, and two or three other things. After the war, the public demanded more music and at the same time, the recording companies developed long playing records. I channeled my work in that direc­tion. I searched absolutely everywhere for reper­toire. Later I consulted catalogues and libraries sent me photocopies and microfilms. I still have this curiosity about repertoire even if I am at the end of my career. I make fewer recordings, but I am still interested in repertoire. Ingo Gronefeld’s book on the flute concertos from 1750 to 1850 is magnifi­cent. I would like to order tons of music.

Are there any works in particular that you know exist but are missing from our repertoire?
   Ah, of course. Wilhelm Friedmann Bach’s four flute concertos are missing and it’s truly a shame because they are probably superb music. They do exist, but they are probably somewhere in Russia. One day, Father Carl de Nys (French musicologist) told me he saw two freight cars leave Germany for Russia full of music from the Berlin Library, part of which, as you know, was destroyed during the war. Therefore, if these concertos still exist, they must be there, but how do we find out where? It would be difficult to search for them. I know that the begin­ning of the manuscript of Tchaikovsky’s flute con­certo is also somewhere in Russia, but no one has access to it. I still dream of finding these works someday.

How do you know that these sketches exist?
   In Tchaikovsky’s letter to Taffanel, he apologizes for not welcoming him to St. Petersburg and he writes: "As far as the concerto for flute is con­cerned, you will have it, I promise you." Some sketches of this exist at the Moscow Conservatory, confirmed to me by Russian flutists, but everyone knows it’s difficult to search. I don’t understand this attitude. When something is known to exist, it must be talked about. It’s ridiculous to hide a dis­covery.

Has your interpretation of the Bach sonatas and Mozart concertos evolved over the years in the many recordings you have made?
   It’s true that the Bach sonatas have been different each time, but I did not plan or think about a par­ticular interpretation each time. I play instinc­tively, which is very important in baroque music. If I recorded these sonatas again today, they would certainly be different.
   As for Mozart, it’s not the same thing. I don’t feel like changing them; the music seems obvious to me and, furthermore, I think we all have more or less the same opinion about these works. The differ­ences in interpretation relate more to sound than to style. You cannot reinvent a style for Mozart.

Many flutists are reluctant to perform transcriptions despite all of the flute versions of the great works for vio­lin. What is your opinion?
   I don’t think we should back away from transcrip­tions. If something not written originally for flute sounds like a transcription, with a series of discon­nections, range problems, or many changes, then be careful. However, some transcriptions might be worthwhile musically. A typical example is the Khatchaturian concerto. The composer offered it to me, took the musical initiative, and after thinking about it myself, I jumped at the opportunity. It was worth the wager because the work is now a standard in the repertoire.
   Transcriptions have to be well done, as close as pos­sible to the original, but suitable for the instrument. Certain works are appropriate for the flute and not others, such as Vivaldi’s Seasons or Mendelssohn’s Violin Concerto. For the latter, the version published by Wilhem Popp in the 19th century is mediocre; however, it is possible for flutists to play the violin part, which I published. I agree it is very difficult, but it works and it’s playable. Many of my students at the time in the Conservatoire sightread it almost effort­lessly. Now that playing levels are even higher, the Mendelssohn seems even easier. However, just because a transcription is naturally attractive to flutists, the work should not be played in concert because it is too closely associated with another instrument. At any rate, I never dared.
   Of course, some transcriptions were realized dur­ing the composer’s lifetime and there are also mod­ern arrangements. It does not matter, but it’s inter­esting historically. Certain period transcriptions are not good, such as Mozart’s oboe quartet, but if a transcription does not have too many changes and sounds good, then it’s perfectly acceptable to play it. Some things will sound better on the flute than on the violin, such as the Franck sonata, with the excep­tion of th second movement. On the other hand, if a transcription is playable without disfiguring either the work or the instrument, and if it brings something new to the repertoire, then why not?

What advice would you give to young soloists?
   Today many people work with a sponsor or enroll in special programs for performing opportunities, but this is short sighted. In reality, it flaws the rules of the games considerably. For less talented people, they may be able to perform more; however, if greater talents play in mediocre programs, it will not help them build their careers.

Should an artist who wants to develop his career follow his own intuition?
   Exactly, even if that means adapting to strictly monographic recordings. Do not be afraid of estab­lishing your own requirements. It was sometimes nec­essary for me to insist strongly on programming cer­tain works. Sometimes we are requested to do things of average interest, but it ends up being worthwhile.
   You simply must love to play the flute. For me and for most flutists it is like a disease. Some people play the flute but are not impassioned by it. They may play at it one or two hours a week, but serious players develop good habits early on. If you practice while you are young your flute fever will remain with you. Never a day will go by that the flute does not beg you to be played. Make it sing, even in the simplest of phrases, and you will grow in that love of the flute making music.

* * *

On Developing Technique
   "The only suggestion is to work more, prac­tice more, try harder, and all that. There is only one way, and it is no secret. For any instrument you have to pass through scales, exercises, arpeggios, everything. It may seem sterile to students, but that’s because they never under­stand what they could be able to get if they had better technique."
   One of the techniques that yields effective results for Rampal but might be easily abused by other flutists is his unusual method of articula­tion. He says that the point of tonguing is to get a sharp attack, which requires having the tongue actually come out between the upper and lower teeth, instead of the more common method of touching behind the top teeth. He compares the tongue to a shutter that releases the air column sharply. If the tongue touches just behind the teeth, he says, "it makes the attack da-da-da-da­da. No shape. Music needs shape, eh? And if you want to have shape, you must have attacks when you start the tone, just as a violinist uses energy to attack a note with the bow or a pianist attacks the keys cleanly."
  When asked which syllable he thinks of, he says a short tu is the nearest to the sound you should make, but in fact no full syllable is actually used. You think of the short tu sound just to move your tongue prop­erly.
   One little technique Rampal uses that helps him in rapid passage work is that he always uses the Bb thumb key instead of the standard cross­fingering for Bb. Most teachers tell students to use the Bb thumb key only as an alternative trill fin­gering, but Rampal says it is simpler and has bet­ter intonation than the cross-fingering.
   Rampal thinks that his remarkable breathing is no big deal. When asked if he has a breathing secret, he replies, "No, I just open my mouth. Do you have a breathing secret when you speak? No, you open your mouth, you breathe. When you’re talking, you just naturally breathe between phrases if you need a breath. In music, it’s the same." He explains that it is almost always unnecessary to take a huge gasp. "Only in a few occasions do you need so much air so fast," he says, because in general "music is very natural."

The post Still Passionate About Music, An Interview with Jean Pierre Rampal appeared first on The Instrumentalist.

   “Well THAT’S the problem!!!” This was then followed by a long lecture about how I needed to be mentally engaged in the exercises or music that I was working on while in the practice room. Practice cannot be passive. One should actively think about the quality of every note, the transition between the notes, the shape of the note, the shape of the line, the vibrato, the pitch, etc. There should be a purpose to every exercise and a specific goal for every practice session. If you let yourself go into auto-pilot, you will never improve.
   He was not wrong. This lesson was pivotal in changing my mindset in the practice room. It is a lesson I frequently teach to my own students, especially when they begin to practice more seriously. I compare auto-pilot playing to when you are reading a book, and after reading an entire page, you realize that you have no idea what it said. Your eyes went over the words, but you didn’t actually comprehend what they said. Your mind was on something else. The same thing can happen in music, especially during extended practice sessions.
   When you have something specific that you are trying to accomplish, auto-pilot practicing should be avoided at all costs. But what about when you do not have anything to practice for? With recent world events cancelling performances, competitions, and nearly every professional playing opportunity, I found myself thinking back to when I practiced as an indulgence and allowed my mind to wander to whatever else seemed to be taking precedent in my life.
   For many musicians this time has been stressful in many ways. And it is not always necessary to add the pressure of perfecting your scales, excerpts, or solos to the everyday problems that you are facing. However, music should stay an important part of your everyday life. During this time, there may be times when it is too much to practice intensely. On these days, play what you enjoy. Play something you have always wanted to play but never got around to because it was not on a repertoire list. Don’t stress about wrong notes and rhythms too much. Don’t micro-analyze every note. Allow your mind to wander a bit while you are playing and think about what you need the next time you venture out to the grocery store or make a to-do-list in your head for household chores. Permit yourself to use your practice session as a meditation to be alone with your flute, your music, and your thoughts.
   This mindset should extend beyond the immediate international trauma of COVID-19. If you ever find yourself emotionally or mentally drained, you don’t have to put your full mental energy into your most productive practice session. Take the time to play for the sake of playing and use music as a release for yourself, and an escape from your problems.

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Take A Step By Step Approach
   Creating and maintaining a routine and daily schedule is a critical part of your mental and physical wellbeing during these uncertain times. Begin your daily schedule first by listing all your everyday duties along with any other time constraints you may have, i.e. video conference calls or family commitments. You can then identify the time slots available for concentrated work and discovering new territories. It might not always be possible to follow your plan precisely, but its presence will help encourage you to work productively and create a sense of safety and structure.
   Before I delve into further discussion, I would like to highlight an important issue: it is essential that you implement any alteration to your daily practice routine gradually. Carefully reflect on any changes experienced and always take a step by step approach. Suddenly extending the amount of daily playing time or focusing on technical problems for an extensive period, however beneficial it may seem at first, can easily result in injuries or facilitate the build-up of extra physical tension. Steven Isserlis, the prominent British cellist wrote an excellent and humorous summary of his edificatory experiences about this topic in a Facebook post on March 30, 2020. Here is a little snippet from his article: “I remember that one summer when I was a teenager, I was seized with some sort of mania and started to ‘work on my technique’ for seven hours a day (the only time I’ve ever practised that much). The result was that my technique got considerably worse in quite a short time.” I strongly encourage you to keep Isserlis’s anecdote in mind when composing your daily and weekly plan for learning and practice.
   I would suggest that before extending your actual playing time, first add sessions that focus on improving your overall fitness for flute playing. Next, use your additional time to expand your current musical knowledge, and finally, if you are aiming for, or are pursuing a professional career in music, work on updating any professional materials, especially focusing on online content. (These will be remarkably useful later on when the classical music market gradually reopens.)

Three Territories To Explore Without Having Your Instrument At Hands
1. Move with Intention
   First, it is wise to add some deliberate extra movement to your days. There are plenty of outstanding YouTube channels that offer every possible type of exercise class that you may desire, and these are fantastic for keeping moving. But there are other forms of movements which are specifically targeted at, or useful for musicians that I suggest you check out in addition to just keeping fit. If you are able to get hold of the excellent book, Fit for the Flute by Barbara Gisler-Haase (Universal Edition, 2000, in German), you will find that it has a great 45-minute sequence of suggested Feldenkrais exercise as well as useful gymnastic warm-up movements selected especially flutists. These are particularly beneficial if you are experiencing any pain or tension. You might also be interested in exploring the Alexander Technique, which helps improve posture and habits in movement and while playing an instrument. Another good online option is the service provided by Irish flutist, Niall O’Riordan. He is hosting live-guided Feldenkrais sessions, aiming at increasing awareness of your movement and breathing, helping relaxation and tension release specifically for flutists from across the world. Any of these activities will be beneficial to your general health and playing.

2. Expand Your Knowledge
   Whenever there is time on your hands, use it to broaden your general knowledge in classical music and flute repertoire. The best way to start is by listening to a great amount of music. In addition to the usual online resources, considering the special circumstances of the current global situation, numerous orchestras and concert halls have made their archives available to all listeners for a period of time. It is an incredibly precious gift for both music lovers and professionals. Hearing, and or watching great performances will not only lift your spirits but by listening to these artists, you can continuously learn about phrasing, interpretation or articulation and your sense and understanding of style will improve immensely.
   Just as important as listening to recordings, is developing your understanding of flute playing or classical music in general. Areas to explore might include relevant musical periods, the language of a specific composer, ornamentation or technical questions concerning the flute. The propagation of doctoral courses for performers in the past decade has resulted in an explosion of scholarly materials created not only by musicologists, but by practicing musicians. Many of these writings summarize valuable information about creative artistic processes and share practical knowledge of a specific area of classical music, or flute playing. The majority of the above-mentioned materials are easily accessible online and may provide eye opening information, which can inspire you to embark on your own personal journey to find a unique artistic project or theme to discover. Your research and reading now will be perfect launch material for future upcoming recitals and/or scholarly writings, such as articles, academic texts.

3. Build Your Online Presence
   The last field to explore, still without an instrument in your hands, is your personal online presence. The current situation has further highlighted the value and importance of relevant online content. If you are a professional, or aiming for a professional career in flute playing, this might be a brilliant opportunity to take some time and update your materials and create proper online availability for them. You should make sure that you have up-to-date C.V. and a website, a YouTube channel, and if you prefer, a Facebook and Instagram account. There are numerous available online tools that you can learn quickly, without much tech skills, that will help you build your own online platform. On top of these, extra time on your hands may allow you to experiment with writing a blog on music related subjects – an output that is increasingly expected of performing artists and teachers. If you are active in another profession, you may write about the importance of music in your life – available online material about an additional skill in your portfolio could also be useful for future reference. Make sure that all materials you create are carefully prepared and represent your activities, knowledge and thoughts with the highest standards.

Three Practice Tips
   After exploring the territories above, let’s take a look at beneficial ways to further cultivate your active, instrument-led practice and learning journey, taking into consideration that at the moment there isn’t a possibility to connect to other musicians and/or a teacher in person.

1. Take Your Time
   First and foremost, I suggest that you take advantage of having more time by approaching your craft in a more relaxed way. It may be extraordinarily liberating not to have the usual time-pressures associated with making music, but have the opportunity to warm up in peace, devote enough time for relaxation between practice sessions and be able to inspect scores more in detail. It is always a great investment to spend more energy on exploring the foundation of sound production, try using a variety of exercises from De la Sonorité and 24 Little Melodic Studies by Marcel Moyse and by spending a generous amount of time on scales.

2. Prepare Comprehensively
   Following this, use your extra time to properly prepare yourself for the practice of performance pieces by adding an etude or two into your daily practice. If you are unsure of what studies might inspire you, I suggest checking out the ‘Graded list of flute Etudes’ on Jennifer Cluff’s website, which collects numerous study books ordered by difficulty. When you are done with all of these and have looked at your current piece as well, I advise revisiting some of the core repertoire pieces. For example, going through each of the J.S. Bach Sonatas, and not only studying the flute part, but seriously working out the interpretation of the left, and if appropriate, the right hands of the keyboard score. It is similarly useful to learn the orchestral parts of cornerstone pieces, such as the Mozart Concerti.
 
3. Utilize Digital Tools
   Apart from traditional and offline methods, now is probably the time to profit from the facilities of our electronic devices and all sorts of online platforms. If you have a smartphone, record a performance of yourself which will enable you to hear your playing more or less like a listener. It can be insightful to hear how much of your intended phrasing, dynamics and articulation come through on the recording; how rhythmical and in-tune everything sounds. If you are looking for additional feedback or support, share your recording with colleagues and ask for their advice by joining and posting your clip on ‘Etude of the Week’, a Facebook group which brings flutists together from all levels and nationalities. During COVID times, all members are welcome to share anything they are currently working on. It is a beautiful platform and supporting network!
   Last, but not least, don’t forget that this may be the perfect chance to learn from a flutist that you admire the most. As even the busiest performers and professors are now glued to their homes, many of them are sharing tutorials on their YouTube channels or Facebook pages (a great example is the L.I.P. Project of Emily Beynon on YouTube, or the series of short tutorial videos of Paul Edmund-Davies on Facebook). Many of your beloved artists will also now be free and happy to offer online lessons, which may just be the chance that you have been waiting for in the past years.
   I wish all of you good health and spirits in these probing times and hope that you will enjoy some of these suggestions. Please feel free to get in touch through , should you have any questions.

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    Most articles on breathing and air support for wind instrument players contain vague or conflicting explanations of the mechanics involved. Such statements as "push the diaphragm down" and "expand the rib cage" are not uncommon. After searching for nearly five years to find an article that accurately described the processes from a musician’s viewpoint, with only enough medical jargon to keep things clear, success came in December 1983 when this article was published in The Instru­mentalist. It combined the information from one of the world’s premier brass teachers and a physician and clarinetist who specializes in pulmonary function. Since its publication our editorial staff has referred to it as the definitive first word on breathing. Over the years many flutists have come to Jacobs for instruction. Because "the flute takes large quantities of air, similar to the tuba," Jacobs says, "the main problem I find when working with flutists is teaching them how to make efficient use of the air within the musical phrase." Read and enjoy.

    At some time every student of a wind instru­ment is instructed in the "correct" method of breathing. If he studies with two or three different teachers, he probably learns two or three different methods, all presumably correct. I studied with six horn teachers and learned five breathing meth­ods, each slightly different and none especially helpful.
    The problem is two-fold. First, few teachers ful­ly understand how the body regulates breathing, let alone how the breath is used in wind instru­ment playing. Second, those who have at least a partial understanding teach it in the wrong way, through attention to anatomy. The teacher’s in­complete understanding is conveyed to the stu­dent, who becomes confused, disillusioned, per­haps even immobilized. The standard "art of play­ing" books for each instrument help little, because few are coherent on the subject and even fewer agree with any other text.
    In an attempt to understand this problem, I con­ferred with two noted authorities on the subject of breathing: Dr. David W. Cugell, Bazley Professor of Pulmonary Diseases at the Northwestern University Medical School in Chicago, who also heads the Pulmonary Function Laboratory at North­western Memorial Hospital; and Arnold Jacobs, principal tubist of the Chicago Symphony Orches­tra and a world-renowned teacher, who is sought by students and professionals on all wind instru­ments, primarily for his approach to the psy­chology of breathing.
    Wind instrument players are concerned with the creation and maintenance of a moving column of air, which is the responsibility of the respira­tory muscles alone. Many of the muscles of the ab­domen and chest, and some in the neck, are in­volved in moving air in and out of the lungs. The diaphragm is the one most frequently mentioned in connection with wind instrument playing and the one least understood by wind players. It is popularly considered a main element in the concept of breath "support" – we are often told to support the tone from the diaphragm – as if the diaphragm were active in expiration (blowing air out). It is not.
    "The diaphragm is a muscle of inspiration (tak­ing air in)," Cugell says. "Located around and above the abdomen (see example 1), it is unique among the muscles of the body in that it contracts not from one end to the other, as the muscles in your arm, leg, or back would, but in a circular fashion, so that a contraction of the diaphragm will reduce its size while flattening it out. The dia­phragm is connected to the lower ribs in such a manner that when it contracts it moves down­ward. It’s one muscle, but like all muscles it’s made up of multiple fibers that contract synchro­nously. When it contracts, the effect is to push it downward.

    "The active part of breathing is the inspiratory portion. In order to move air into the chest and ex­pand the lungs, an active muscle effort is required, and that means contraction of the diaphragm. Now you can produce a little bit of breathing by contracting other muscles, such as the strap mus­cles in the neck. You see someone complete a hun­dred-yard dash, they’re gasping and tugging with their neck muscles as well as with their dia­phragm, but that’s the agonal gasp of the subject who is in extremes of physical activity, which is not the case when you’re playing a musical instru­ment. You may need to breathe in a hurry or you may need a big breath, but coordinated and planned breathing is not assisted by contracting some of these other muscles, which contribute relatively little in comparison with what a healthy diaphragm can do."
    Cugell points out that the diaphragm functions only to assist taking the air in. "It’s the other mus­cles, particularly in the chest area and the ab­domen, that we use to exhale and that collectively develop the air pressure you need to play.
    "A man in England did a nice little study in which he had a number of trained singers stand in front of a fluoroscope (an instrument used to ex­amine the interior of a body) and told them to sus­tain a note with the breath coming from the dia­phragm in whatever manner they were trained. Then he repeated the process and had the singers breathe in a manner which was quite incorrect, without using the diaphragm in the way in which they had been instructed. The fluoroscope showed no difference whatsoever in the activity of the dia­phragm under these two circumstances. This is really not surprising, because the diaphragm ac­counts for 90% of all breathing and you cannot control or change the proportion of your breath­ing that is contributed by it (or by a few other muscles, whose contribution is relatively small).
    "Now what I suspect is happening is that when someone sustains a high C in a proper way ‘using the diaphragm’ – as opposed to someone who does it improperly – it has not really anything to do with the diaphragm. It has to do with how the person contracts other muscles in the abdomen and chest. This information has been transferred in the lingo of singers and wind instrument play­ers to assume that this exhaling is accomplished with the diaphragm, when in fact it is done by con­tracting other muscles.
    There are two overlapping layers of muscles be­tween the ribs, called the intercostal muscles; some contract during inspiration and some con­
tract during expiration. If I inhale in a hurry and I want to stop at a certain point, before I actually stop, the muscles which move the chest in the op­posite direction begin to work. It is this interplay of the muscles that move things in opposite direc­tions which provides the fine control."
    The late Professor, Arend Bouhuys, of the Yale University School of Medicine to whom Cugell re­ferred to frequently in our discussions, offers a good illustration of how the breathing-in and breathing-out muscles cooperate in wind playing:

   The respiratory muscles help to generate most of the energy that goes into playing a horn. They act on the chest, which is for our purposes an elas­tic bellows. When the chest (that is, the lungs in it) is full of air, the chest tends to collapse as it re­laxes. Just try for yourself: inhale as far as you can, relax all muscles, and you exhale with a sigh. Now try the opposite, which is more difficult to do: breathe about as far as you can. Now relax all muscles, and the air flows in. The resting position of the chest bellows is somewhere in between, roughly in the middle of the volume excursion range of the chest. The respiratory muscles have to work with or against these elastic forces, de­pending on what the chest volume is and what pressure we need to play the horn.
   If we first want to breathe out slowly with very little pressure, after breathing in as far as possible we must use considerable inspiratory force to keep the air from going out with a sign. Again, try for yourself. Breathe in deeply, and let go very slowly. You have to ‘brake’ your exhaling, using inspiratory muscles to hold back. to keep the chest volume from decreasing too rapidly because of its own elasticity. When you continue, you reach a point where you are relaxed. Now continue to breathe out slowly, and you find that you now have to push with expiratory muscles to move the air out at the same slow rate. (Arend Bouhuys, "Physi­ology and Musical Instruments." Reprinted by per­mission from Nature, volume 221, number 5187, page 1200. Copyright 1969, Macmillan Journals, Ltd.)

    The amount of control the wind instrument player has over this procedure is limited by what is called the pressure-volume diagram of the chest (example 2), which says that greater pressure is re­quired to move air at volumes below the resting lung volume than at volumes above the resting point. As Cugell explained it, "In the lung the pres­sure-volume relationship is linear over the mid­range – that is, I get equal volume increments for equal pressure increments. Once I reach the elas­tic limit, no matter how much pressure I apply, I don’t get any more volume.

    "With no conscious effort to facilitate things, the pressure is greatest when the lungs are largest. Similarly, when the lungs are largest, the con­scious contraction of the muscles produces the highest pressures. Active expiratory effort is, of course, needed whenever the required mouth pressure for the instrument is higher than the re­laxation pressure at the prevailing lung volume. As the lungs get smaller, they are no longer going to contract and generate pressures on their own. You have to do it by squeezing with the muscles.
    "For example, if you inflate the lungs to their ab­solute maximum and then play a high C on the trumpet at maximum volume, you haven’t used much air, but the volume of air in the chest is re­duced considerably because you’ve had to squeeze so much. You compress the air in the chest just as much as the air in the mouth. Whether you have an instrument that has a low pressure, for which you’re going to need a high air flow to get a large sound volume, or you’re playing an instrument that has a low flow at enormous pressure (one that uses a small mouthpiece) the effort required of the player is essentially the same. In other words, you’ve got to squeeze with the muscles to generate either a high flow or a high pressure.
   "The vast difference is that if you don’t need much pressure you can play with the entire usable portion of the lung volume. However, if you need a lot of pressure you can only use a small portion of the lung capacity because when the lungs are par­tially empty it’s not possible to generate the pres­sure, as shown in example 2. You can generate the maximum pressures when the lungs are full, and you want to do that to play a loud, high note; but after you’ve exhaled some air the lungs are smaller and then it’s not possible to sustain as high a pressure. So there is a limited period of time when a player has both the volume and the pressures to produce the sound. On the other hand, the time during which an oboist can sustain a note is not limited so much by the air pressure and air flow requirements of the instrument as by his breath-holding time. If you don’t need much pressure and you don’t need much flow, then you’ve got all day; but there’s only so long you can hold on before you’ve got to breathe again."
    The point that Cugell insisted upon throughout our discussions is that, given all the facts of breathing anatomy, each player will discover the practical applications for himself: ‘I’m a firm be­liever in the capacity of the organism to minimize the burden of the work it has to achieve. In other words, there are studies that show whatever breathing pattern people assume generally repre­sents the minimum amount of work that is re­quired to produce the necessary amount of breath­ing.
    "For example, people with a certain kind of lung disease breathe with a large breath relatively slowly. When making objective measurements of the work of breathing – and by that I mean the pressure, the volume, the physical parameters of work – you will find that if you change their breathing so that they are breathing with a smaller volume more frequently, which would net out to the same amount of breathing, the work re­quired is larger. A patient who has the kind of lung disease that makes the lung stiff may adopt a breathing pattern of panting. He does that be­cause it takes a lot of work to distend a stiff lung. The patient can breathe the necessary amount if he breathes quickly and at small volumes. If you tell him, ‘Gee, you’re breathing all wrong. Try tak­ing a big breath and breathe less frequently, you’ll get the same amount of breathing for it,’ he’ll say, ‘Well I tried it and I didn’t like it,’ because he had to work so hard to expand the stiff lung.
    "My point is that the compensatory pattern of breathing that people spontaneously adopt will represent the minimum work that is required, and it is probably incorrect to impose a different pat­tern. I think a person playing a wind instrument fits into the same category. If he’s got to grab a breath between two passages, he’s going to do it in a way that’s best for him; I doubt that there would be any purpose in imposing a different pattern. If the player did it once and ran out of air, the next time he’s going to breathe a little more because he knows he has to."
    Furthermore, the particular breathing pattern a person adopts is no indication of his quality as a wind instrument player. Cugell says, "If you com­pare the breathing patterns of you and me or any­body else, they would all be different, but there would be no way to categorize that as saying ‘nor­mal’ or ‘abnormal’ or ‘this one’s old’ or ‘this one’s young.’ There’s nothing characteristic about breathing that can be defined as representing gra­dations of normality. That being the case, it’s not surprising that if four people play the same music, they’re going to breathe a little differently, be­cause they breathe differently when they’re not playing music."
    He referred to the Nature article, where Bou­huys tested four flutists playing Debussy’s Syrinx. One of these men was first chair in the Concertge­bouw Orchestra of Amsterdam, one was a good amateur, and two were young professionals. Re­cordings from a pneumograph (an instrument de­signed to measure chest movement during respira­tion) showed four slightly divergent readings with­in the same general pattern, with slight tempo fluctuations. With the exception of one man, who had a slightly smaller lung capacity and took one extra breath, the performers adhered to the phrase-breath markings in the music. This test showed to what extent the music determines a player’s breathing pattern. "So if we subscribe to the concept, with respect to instrument playing, that we will spontaneously assume the most effi­cient and effective pattern,” says Cugell, "then it certainly makes good sense not to concern your­self with it so you can concentrate on all the other aspects of your playing."

Anatomy and Psychology
    Arnold Jacobs bases his teaching on all these other aspects of sound and phrase – the "prod­ucts" of music. He makes the distinction between anatomy and function through what he calls the "computer activity of the brain," separate from the "thinking part of the brain."
    "When you go to the product of whatever you’re trying to accomplish, you’ll find the physical ac­tion required to do it is based in the computer ac­tivity of the brain. In other words the conscious levels of the brain, where volitional thought takes place, handle the product. Another level of the brain, the thinking part, will handle motor im­pulses carried by nerves throughout the body. The firing up of the systems is handled at subcon­scious levels, just like the ability to walk or to talk or to run. The muscle activity will result from what you’re trying to accomplish. With all ma­chines there is a set’ of controls, like an automo­bile, which has complex machinery under the hood but simple controls in the driver’s compart­ment. There’s nothing as complex on this planet as the human being; but man has magnificent con­trols, and he goes through this control system.
    "By this I mean that there are divisions in the brain that are going to control all sorts of physical functions – cutting up food, bringing it to the mouth and chewing it, handling the body for sleep at night, or even going insane. The thinking part of the brain is free to cope with life around us, it does not have to cope with life within us. It’s with the thinking part of the brain that we begin to estab­lish what we want in the way of product.
    "This, of course, is what players are up against; in music so often a teacher makes the mistake of altering the machine activity rather than altering the product or what he wants accomplished. The instructor is giving machine methods of how to do it, and people can’t work that way. None of us can. We have to look for the easy answer all the time. It is so simple. If you want a lot of breath, just take a lot of air. Don’t worry about where it goes. If you want to blow, just blow. With students a teacher should always try for the simple answers that bring about proper motor response. That idea be­longs not in the realm of anatomy but in psychol­ogy."
    The answer that Jacobs introduces students to is what he calls the "phenomenon of wind" – the idea of air blowing out through the instrument to prevent pressures from building up inside the lungs. Most students who come to Jacob have ac­quired the habits of thinking about air pressure in­stead of air in motion. Because these habits are difficult to break, he uses psychology to create new habits, to get students to use their muscles for the proper function.
    The respiratory muscles are involved in three ways. One is respiration, the single complete act of breathing in and out. The second has to do with pelvic pressures when the Upper end of the airway is closed, forcing pressure downward for such events as defecation and childbirth. The third has to do with the isometrics of physical function, the kind of static muscle tightening involved in weightlifting and wrestling.
    "A musician has to make sure that he is using the right approach when playing an instrument," Ja­cobs says. "He doesn’t want the one that immo­bilizes, he doesn’t want the one that creates great isometric contractions that have no movement potential. Because a continuous flow of air re­quires movement, the player should go to res­piration.
    "The human brain is responsible for conditioned responses to stimuli or reflex responses to stimuli in everybody, musicians or non-musicians. These are non-respiratory functions. In respiration a bellows action occurs in the muscles. We take air in and we blow air out by the phenomena of en­largement and reduction. It becomes simple when you think of movements of air. Whether it’s from the diaphragm descending or the rib cage ascend­ing, there has to be enlargement to lower air pressure internally below atmospheric pressure so air will move into the lungs. The same thing happens as you reduce the size – the air pressure increases as you move out. That’s how we blow; it’s how we breathe.

Move Air As Wind
    "The psychology of blowing is always to blow outward, to work with wind rather than air pres­sure. The psychology of it is important. Take your hand, hold it at a distance and blow onto it. Now where the air lands is the area to concentrate on. Some teachers will have the player blow through the instrument or through the far wall. It doesn’t matter what the technique is to motivate a stu­dent; the psychology of it is to move air as wind, not air pressure.
    "With wind there is always air pressure. With air pressure, there is not always wind. If you just concentrate on the air pressure -which can hap­ pen in any body cavity – the danger is that you may have stimulated the Valsalva maneuver (in which you try to breathe out with your mouth and nose shut) or the pelvic pressure syndrome, or the isometrics, which do not involve movements of air.
    "But an instructor is never going to get this idea across by telling students to push with this muscle or that muscle. I get them to blow. Away from the instrument I let them observe their body. I use special equipment or I may have students blow up balloons or blow out matches, and then show how quantities can be taken from any part of the thorax (the body area between the neck and the ab­domen). In other words we go through a certain amount of perspective training away from music to become acquainted with the body, so that the studies of air in life are involved."
    The confusion of many teachers about both the role of the diaphragm and the idea of abdominal "support" of air is largely responsible for many students’ preoccupation with the kind of pres­sures resulting from misdirected muscular ten­sions.
    "First of all, the term ‘support’ raises questions in itself. Many people make the mistake of assum­ing the muscle contraction is what gives support. The blowing of the breath should be the support, not tension in the muscles of the body, but the movement of air as required by the embouchure or the reed.
    "You go into the mechanics of movement and confusion arises; it’s a cause and effect relation­ship. When a player blows, the body undergoes certain changes. There will be increasing palpable tensions that can be felt just by touching a person. Toward the end of a breath, there will be a certain number of fibers that are stimulated. There will be increasing motor activity in order to get the air out, and this varies according to the length of the phrase and the amount of air in the lungs original­ly; but ‘support’ is never ‘tight muscles,’ whether you’re silent or blowing, or in a diminuendo or crescendo. In other words it’s simply a static, con­stant, isometric type of contraction that so many people call support. This is not support at all.
    "I can explain it from different points of view. Do it this way: your diaphragm is like the floor, a movable partition between the thoracic and the abdominal cavities. Now if you were to build up considerable air pressure with a loose abdomen and a loose diaphragm, the air would simply move the floor downward. Instead of air coming out, as the player builds pressure it would simply lower the floor. So by thinking of support as something that will hold the diaphragm in the upper position, you could conceivably see abdominal tension as building pressure beneath the floor. You keep that in a fixed position while building up high pressure through the rib activity to have expulsion of breath based on this pressure. I can’t conceive of it this way, but I know that many teachers think this way. This is not, to me, support.
    "Support is always a reduction phenomenon. Wherever the player is going to build pressure, ac­cording to Boyle’s Law, he is going to have a re­duced chamber. Now the chamber can be reduced anywhere it is enlarged. It gets bigger when you take air in, it gets smaller when you move air out. When you blow, the brain will deactivate the dia­phragm, normally. Expiratory function will nor­mally deactivate inspiratory function. If you are using air to create pelvic pressures, the dia­phragm will not deactivate -it will remain stimu­lated. Abdominal muscles that would normally be expiratory will start contracting, and there will be a closure at the throat or the tongue or the lips which causes the air pressure to bear down on a downward-contracting diaphragm to increase the pelvic pressure for expulsion of fecal matter. Of course, to bypass this we have to have a blowing phenomenon that is different. You see, you have to form a new habit, and a new habit does not come right away. A new habit takes time to reach the subconscious level."
    Jacobs uses a wide variety of non-musical exer­cises to get players to feel and hear the difference between blowing air out freely and blowing out in a choked manner that results in tight chest and ab­dominal muscles. For example, blow onto the back of the hand using a tight hissing sound through your teeth, as loud as possible. You will feel very little air. By blowing out freely onto the hand, you feel a considerable amount of air under low pres­sure. The hiss is under high pressure, but there is little quantity. By closing the lips in the midst of the hiss and then releasing the sound explosively, you will have felt considerable pressure behind the lips and also behind the tongue. As soon as you open the lips, you have an immediate shortage of air.
"We see these closures in students all the time," Jacobs says, "coming from a sibilant ‘s’ (the hissing sound) or at the back of the tongue, and even some where the larynx and epiglottis start to come to­gether. If I have a student whose tongue is block­ing the air, allowing very little air movement but at high pressure, I immediately encourage using the open vowel form such as ‘oh’ or ‘ah.’ All through life you have language; language involves the tongue. Over the years you have built up reflex response for shape that is very powerful. You hear a trumpet or a bassoon, but it sounds like a singer with a voice like that singing ‘oh.’ Listen for that sound and the tongue shape is correct. This per­tains to any need to open up the airway."
    Following one of Jacobs’ recent master classes at Northwestern University, a woman asked how to help a bassoon student who lets the air get "like a brick wall" – constricted and tense – which ap­parently resulted in quite a horrible sound.
    "First of all," he said, "get her away from the bas­soon. You don’t have to use the reed; just put something in her mouth. Have the student start blowing or start blowing against something in order to see that the air will do something where it lands. The importance of this approach is not to correct what’s wrong, but to establish what should be right.
    "I would give her a couple of straws and have her blow at the pages of a book and watch what happens on the other side. Have her blow at some matches or blow up a weak balloon, but always with the thought of becoming acquainted with air, rather than air pressure. Studying childbirth and coughing gives the picture of what air pressure will do. However, when you study a burn and cool it by blowing on the hand, or when you’re doing what I used to do, blow peas at people with a pea shooter, then you get a different picture of what air will do."
    The woman pointed out that this particular stu­dent was a singer who had played the bassoon for only a year. "Don’t singers have to use a lot of air?" she asked.
    "No, it’s just the opposite," Jacobs said. "Singers use less air than anybody. Their reed is at the throat, and as a result they have to keep a fairly sizable pressure at the laryngeal region. The stu­dent is using the technique of singing on the bas­soon. Now compared to singing, bassoon playing will seem like a large volume of air is in transit. It’s important to recognize that she has habits already formed.
    "Start mechanical movements without the in­strument so the student experiences change in the abdominal-diaphragmatic relationship. Deliber­ately have her create massive motions in the ab­dominal region, sucking the belly in, forcing it out, pushing it up and down -this is the region where she’s been stabilized. Now deliberately destabilize it. Start the muscle activity of change in front of a mirror so the senses work together to strengthen each other. Don’t tie it into music, though, or else she’ll have to fight her own habits.
   "Then tie in the movements of air by using mo­tion – every day – blowing out matches, taking in lots of air and enlarging. Allow a few weeks, where she has to be practicing this every day. In the ab­dominal region where the student was stable, she will begin to establish motility of function. It has to be recognized in this manner before you apply it to the bassoon. Then you do it with just some reed squawks, but with exaggeration.
    "Exaggeration is one of the important tools. Do­ing things just right is not what you want. The recognition is not there. So you overchange. You’re not doing it with the music, so there’s no damage. Then when you get to the bassoon, you don’t worry about the body change, but you go to the study of air.
    "It is natural for the lungs to get smaller as you use up air. The bassoon student has made it unna­tural. As a teacher, you go through a program to get her back to what is natural. As soon as this process starts, she begins to use air as wind to deactivate the diaphragm. There can be no stiff­ness in the anterior abdominal wall without the antagonist, which is the diaphragm. The brain will deactivate this action, and as the diaphragm comes up, you’ll find the student is able to blow against the reed, where the wind belongs. If you tell her to do these things based on intelligence, she will understand, but she can’t communicate it to her body. The wind becomes the body’s signal for change.

It’s the Tone
    "But wind is finally only a minor part. Tone pro­duction is the major. You use the wind as fuel. With a wind instrument, the horn resonates sound waves; it’s reacting to sound and amplifying it ac­cording to acoustical properties. Our air isn’t used to fill an instrument. It’s used by the embouchure as energy so the lips vibrate.
    "So players certainly shouldn’t worry about the air, but about the quality of tone. When you get the tone, you will have all the requirements of tone at the subconscious levels. The blowing is an incidental part; the tone doesn’t exist without the blowing, but the blowing can exist without the tone. As an artist you go for the product – the product is sound and phrase and all the emotions in music – you use thought processes that stimu­late motor function, but you don’t worry about the function. You worry about the sound. You will use the breath as needed. You will do it primarily without awareness of air. The air should be used freely – waste it, do anything you want. A player’s awareness is of the communication of sound to whoever he is talking to.
"This is true of any wind instrument. You teach expertise in phrase and the study of dynamics. As the sound production becomes more efficient, which it will, you’ll find that you use the breath with greater and greater ease. I’m an old man, but I can still function quite well in playing a brass in­strument, because my lips respond quite readily to my thoughts. Moving air under pressure is re­quired for my lips to vibrate, but those lips are not trying to resist the air. They’re trying to vibrate based on the thoughts coming from my brain in terms of sounds."
    There are, of course, many ways students and professionals have of inhibiting their ability to ex­press sound freely. Probably the most common is poor posture. "Posture is very important," Jacobs acknowledges. "We’re structured so that the max­imal use of air comes in the standing posture, as if you would run or fight for your life. Standing of­fers the greatest ability to move large volumes of air in and out of the lungs. The closer you get to the supine, the poorer it becomes.
    "If you think of the respiratory system, it should be thought of not as one bellows, but as a series of segmented bellows, depending on your posture. When lying on your back on the floor, you’ll find there is little ability to use chest breathing. You will have a marvelous use of diaphragmatic breathing, which is more than enough to sustain life; but the diaphragm isolated from the rest of the rib cage provides a rather small breath. There is no such thing as a full breath without the use of the sternum (the compound ventral bone and car­tilage that supports the ribs). If I lean back on the chair and reach over my head, the motion pulls the rib cage up, which is already in the expanded posi­tion. That means I can’t use it for breathing in or out. If I bend forward over my belly, pressure in the abdominal region under the diaphragm is such that I have great difficulty using diaphragmatic function.
    "If you need large volumes of air, you will use the entire respiratory system. If you’re playing an instrument that doesn’t require much air, you’re never going to use a full breath; however you should be able to. Performers have to take suffi­cient air in to be able to complete phrases. This in­volves taking in quantities of air based on judg­ments of how much air will be left at the end of a phrase.
    "Standing while seated is the best posture be­cause players have the greatest ability to move air in and out of the lungs. However, if you are breathing with comfort, the posture doesn’t have to be that way. As long as you are in the upright position, you should have more than enough air. If you’re a large person with large lung reserves, pos­ture is not that important; however, people who have small lung volumes must stay upright and make use of whatever nature gave them." (We come back to the point that Cugell made earlier: the body will adopt the most comfortable and ef­fective means of performing whatever task it is given to do.)
    "In this art form," Jacobs concludes, "we are dealing in sound. Respiration is made too much of. We need sufficient quantities of fuel that we can use easily – as I say, waste it, it’s free – but don’t make a big deal out of it. We don’t start anything with skill; skill is developed over a period of time in spite of yourself. We have to recognize what we’re trying to accomplish; the orders that come from the various parts of the brain must be based on the sound of the instrument. We have to make sure that we don’t take the level of the brain at which we have volitional thought and try to take charge of the human machine through its indi­vidual components. We can’t handle it. You’ve got to get out of the way and allow your body to func­tion for you. The point is to try to sound great when you play."

Bios are from the original article:
Arnold Jacobs recently retired as principal tubist of the Chicago Symphony Orchestra, where he was a member since 1944. At the age of 15 he became a stu­dent at Philadelphia’s Curtis Institute of Music and went on to play with the Indianapolis and Pittsburgh Sym­phonies. He toured with Leopold Stokowski and the All-American Youth Orchestra before joining the Chicago Symphony Orchestra. (Editor’s note: Arnold Jacobs died
October 7, 1998.)

David W. Cugell, M.D. is head of the pulmonary function laboratory at North­western Memorial hospital in Chicago and has been a member of the faculty at North­western University Medical School since 1955. A graduate of Yale University and the State University of New York School of Medicine in Brooklyn, Cugell is president of the Chicago Lung Association. A musician as well as a physician, he played clarinet and saxophone. (Editor’s note: Dr. Cugell was the longest-serving faculty member of the Feinberg School of Medicine until his retirement in 2012. He died in 2016 at the age of 93.)

Kevin Kelly holds degrees in music criticism and English writing from Northwestern University, where he played horn in the major wind performance ensembles.

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