Newsflash for Teachers: Being an Asshole is Ineffective

Every time I pick up a science news magazine or book I end up smacking my head in disbelief that science goes to such lengths to prove what everybody else knows already. So being an Asshole is an ineffective approach to teaching. Really, a Nobel Prizewinning scientist said so.  I read it in a random book on randomness: The Drunkard's Walk by Leonard Mlodinow. The author tells the story of Daniel Kahneman, a psychologist who won the 2002 Nobel Prize in Economics (!). I'll retell this because here is an interesting twist on "what everybody else knows already".

While working as a psychology professor at Hebrew University in the 1960s, Kahneman lectured  a group of Israeli air force flight instructors on behavior modification. As a well-read mother of an almost-three year old, I know about behavior modification: rewarding positive behavior works but punishing mistakes does not. Almost every other parenting book will tell you this. My husband does not agree, but that is another story.

When I read the following passage though, my first connection was not to my son, dear as he is, but to teaching flute. I listen to some teachers brag about how tough they are and now believe they are driven by a misconception. Perhaps more importantly, this will give us a lesson on how not to talk to ourselves, as we practice for hours on end, give concerts, and play auditions.  I'll begin quoting from page 7, just mentally replace the word "flight" with "flute":

Kahneman drove home the point that rewarding positive behavior works but punishing mistakes does not. One of [the pilot instructors] interrupted,..."I've often praised people warmly for beautifully executed maneuvers, and the next time they do worse," the flight instructor said. "And I've screamed at people for badly executed maneuvers, and by and large the next time they improve. Don't tell me that reward works and punishment doesn't work. My experience contradicts it." The other flight instructors agreed. To Kahneman the flight instructor's experiences rang true. On the other hand, Kahneman believed in the animal experiments that demonstrated that reward works better than punishment. [...] And then it struck him: the screaming preceded the improvement, but contrary to appearances it did not cause it.

How can that be? The answer lies in a phenomenon called regression toward the mean. That is, in any series of random events an extraordinary event is most likely to be followed, due purely to chance, by a more ordinary one. Here is how it works: The student pilots all had a certain personal ability to fly fighter planes. Raising their skill level involved many factors and required extensive practice, so although their skill was slowly improving through flight training, the change wouldn't be noticeable from one maneuver to the next. Any especially good or especially poor performance was thus mostly a matter of luck. So if a pilot made an exceptionally good landing - one far above his normal level of performance - then the odds would be good that he would perform closer to his norm - that is, worse - the next day. And if
his instructor had praised him, it would appear that the praise had done no good. But if a pilot

But I was going for that high D!

made an exceptionally bad landing - [...] then the odds would be good that the next day he would perform closer to his norm - that is, better. And if his instructor had a habit of screaming "you clumsy ape" when the student performed poorly, it would appear that his criticism did some good. In this way an apparent pattern would emerge: student performs well, praise does no good; student performs poorly, instructor compares student to lower primate at high volume, student improves. The instructors in Kahneman's class had concluded that their screaming was a powerful educational tool. In reality it made no difference at all.

So the next time you or anyone else crash and burn, it's fine to mull it over and figure out what went wrong, but it doesn't pay to be an asshole about it. And besides, aren't apes higher primates?

Circular Breathing on the Modern Flute

This entry is cross posted on the musikFabrik blog

In 1992, while in residence at the Banff Centre, Canada, I spent eleven weeks learning to circular breathe so that I could perform Flames Must Not Encircle Sides by Robert Dick. I figured if I could do it at 1.500 meters (ca. 5000 feet) above sea level, in the dryness of the mountain air, I could do it anywhere. I won't forget that first performance so easily! Flutist Aurèle Nicolet was also performing in that concert, so the pressure to perform well was intense.

There is one correction to make on this video: at ca. 01:04 I say "beneath the tongue" when I should have said "towards the base of the tongue".

Michel Debost points out that Circular Breathing should be properly called Circular Blowing. I do believe he is right, but for the sake of consistency and electronic searches, I will keep the term Circular Breathing.

For more about the details and history of circular breathing I can recommend:

Robert Dick, Circular Breathing forFlutists 

Michel Debost, The Simple Flute

Online

Artist House Interview with Robert Dick

Tongue Pizzicato

 A question came up on the Flute List about how to produce tongue pizzicato effectively. Here is a link to a video where I demonstrate this effect (along with other percussive effects and air sounds).

This is the notation I prefer for tongue pizzicato

To get a good POP, you have to close off your air passage from behind and in front, compress the trapped air, then release it. Perhaps a "bubble" image will help. That is what we are doing, popping air after all. It's a simple concept that each flutist can do differently. I'll now go into boring detail about what works for me.


To block the air from the back,  raise the back of the tongue as if you are beginning to swallow. If you try to close your throat further down (as it is in the middle of a swallow), that won't work (for me).

For a tongue pizzicato, the release of of the air bubble can be varied, tongue on the lips, or tongue on the palate.

If on the palate, I find it more effective if the tongue is slightly retroflex. That's a fancy word, but actually it only means the tip of the tongue is behind the hard palate, pointing up but not pointed. There should be an air-tight chamber (bubble), with the hard palate as the roof and your tongue as the walls and floor. The pressure to create the pop is made by trying to push the air bubble forward. When you feel the pressure, you can release front of the tongue and let the jaw drop a tiny, tiny bit, that will help the air bubble go down into the flute.

In the pizzicato with tongue on the lips (behind or between the lips, both are possible), the bubble's roof is the roof of your mouth, the walls are the teeth and cheeks, and the floor is your tongue. The pressure is built up by squeezing whatever muscles you can (lips, cheek tongue, whatever works), then drawing the tongue quickly back. Letting the jaw drop here a tiny, tiny bit can also help here with resonance, getting the air bubble into the flute.

Hard to put into words what goes on inside us!

Air & Percussive Sounds for the Flute

 This entry is cross posted on the musikFabrik blog

This video gives a brief demonstration of some common air sounds and percussive effects on the flute.

Here are some further tips for players and composers:
For players, when doing air sounds, it is not always necessary to use as much air as possible. After a long, loud passage, you might find yourself passed out on the floor! The trick here is to make as sibilant a sound as possible. One way of doing this is to actually narrow the throat a little to make the air passage smaller (I know, just the opposite of what we all learned!), then raise the tongue a little, so that it disturbs the distribution of air wanting to escape from your mouth. These are subtle adjustments, you needn’t do too much. All you are doing is speeding up the air, as when you narrow the end of a garden hose to make it spray further. For loud passages, you will still need to give extra support from down below, putting your abdominal muscles into play.
The pizzicati sounds will be louder and more resonant if the flute is turned out a bit. The more you can make resonance in your own mouth, the better. For maximum resonance for key clicks, stay in playing position, open your throat as far as possible, and open your mouth just a bit more over the embouchure hole to create an extra resonance chamber.

I have posted some further information on the production of tongue pizzicato here.

For composers:
There is unfortunately no standarisation of notation for these effects. I have shown on the video those recommended by Pierre-Yves Artaud in his book Present Day Flutes. I find these to be quite intuitive, but maybe another flutist will have another opinion.
When notating air sounds for the flute, please avoid using empty note heads, unless an empty note head is rhythmically called for (a half note, dotted half note, or whole note). I know, Helmut Lachenmann, Isabel Mundry, and other well-known composers use open note heads, but it makes their music extremely frustrating to read. I am hoping that this tradition will die out. (For more about this and to see written musical examples, read my blog entry here.)
Key clicks on the flute fall into my “Why Bother?” category. Unless you carefully compose them in a solo work, or under amplification, you won’t  hear them.  95 % of the time, I end up having to reinforce them with a tongue pizz. Helmut Lachenmann’s Mouvement is an exception, there are some passages with pure key clicks that can actually be heard! However,  other passages in that piece that need the reinforcement of a tongue pizz.
Note that the difference between a tongue pizz produced on the palate and a tongue pizz produced on the lips is not very distinct. It may be best to let the player decide where to produce the pizz. Some can do it on the palate better, others more effectively on the lips. However there are circumstances, such as close amplification, where that small difference can be quite interesting.
Now, if only I could beatbox…..

Finger Exercises Based on Tai Chi

 This entry is cross posted on the musikFabrik blog

 

Anyone who works with their hands can benefit from the energy flow these exercises provide. I am no expert or student of Tai Chi, but I have had to work a lot at injury prevention. You can do them at the beginning of your warm up, then as necessary during the breaks. Breaks are very important in injury prevention. Any exercise that stretches or gets the energy flowing during your break will allow you to practice more in the long run, and keep your money in your own pocket and not the doctor’s.

I don’t mention the pacing of the exercises in the video. For me, they take four to five minutes to complete. This is a good investment of time when I have a long practice session, especially if there’s much to be done on alto or bass flute. Enjoy!

Bring in the Clones

Read an article by almost any famous flute teacher today from North America or Western Europe and you will notice they share similar ideals. The development of a student's individuality is given high priority. Their students are encouraged to find their own musical identities; they don't want clones or sound-alikes.

Nor do I. But what I'm about to say will at first seem like a contradiction. I am aware that I am in a different position than the stellar players and teachers of our time. I don't have a bunch of sycophants and wannabees trailing in my wake. Therefore, I can enjoy a bit of skepticism in the face of this idealistic individualism.

Peter Lloyd, with whom I studied for 4 years, shared this ideal, and took it to an extreme. Even when he was still playing (as he was when I studied with him 1988 - 1992), he would not play for us in lessons. He didn't want us sounding like him. I asked him why not, since we came out of our lessons talking like him (joking, of course. He has a great posh accent.) His reply: "Good, you're finally learning to speak properly!" This humor as well as his patience saved me, nurturing and bringing back to life what was left of me after my dismal undergraduate years. I have much thank him for. However, since I was so good at hiding my real problems, my playing still left much to be desired when I left Indiana. And I still didn't have a clue who I was as a musician. I was too confused to even have a clear ideal of sound, I wanted to sound French, but with American verve, and English full-bodiedness. One thing was clear, I was sure I could find it by following the Contemporary Music path, not the Early Music or orchestral path. Perhaps I sympathized with late 20th century Modernism; it was striving to find itself as much as I was.

Harrie Starreveld

That path led to Amsterdam, where I studied flute with  Harrie Starreveld and classical South Indian music with Rafael Reina and Jahnavi Jayaprakash. Harrie does not have any particular philosophy regarding playing in lessons, but most of what I learned came from listening to him and playing with him, often in an apprentice-type situation with the Nieuw Ensemble. That is what it took for me. No one would even say that I sound at all like Harrie: I don't, but I cannot stress how much this experience helped me to find my voice.

Four years after my studies with Harrie I went to India for two and a half weeks to work with Jahnavi Jayaprakash privately in Bangalore, and the scales seemed to fall from my eyes. I wondered if our Western musical education was not entirely bass-ackwards. Everything we learn seems to be from the top down, instead of the bottom up. In India, the idea that you can learn music by verbal explanation only and hope to develop a musical spirit in a vacum of abstract ideas is ludicrous. That one can study without the rote learning which frees one technically and enables inspiration to soar - also ridiculous!

But rote learning is BAD, a well-known European flute teacher told me recently. I'm tending to disagree. Rote learning without any understanding at all is bad, but I think we tend to throw the baby out with the bath water.

Jahnavi Jayaprakash

Indian classical music education does not eschew the technical, analytical or theoretical, but as I understand, it comes when one has already mastered one's voice or instrument. My teacher Jahnavi had her Doctorate from an Indian University in music and could explain the intricacies of each nuance of a Raga for Westerners like me. But that was not how she normally taught. Mastering music means learning the language of music and all its subtleties not through the intellect, but through the ear and the heart, by method of imitation. It is a somatic, not an intellectual process. But the diversity among South Indian flute players is a living testament to individuality "in spite of" this method.

This is not a "grass is greener" essay. I don't think if I had learned the Indian way from the beginning it would have completely solved all my problems. I do enjoy analysis, and was good at theory, and was glad to learn it young. But I do wish I had had someone to sonically follow in my earliest years. It would have avoided crisis and saved me a lot of time, but maybe I was destined to have such a long and hurdle-ridden path. For many young players today this from-the-top-down musical education is less of a problem, thanks to the proliferation of Suzuki teachers. I am speaking only on behalf of those like myself, who come from the traditional marching- or wind-band school education.

I do not want my students to slavishly follow me, and I certainly don't wish my bad habits on them. However, I do play for them whenever possible, and expect them to strive to my standards, and higher. There is of course the danger that my students might superficially sound like me, but I am fully convinced they will get over it.

photo credits:
Dolly: Stephen Ferry/Getty Images
Harrie Starreveld and Jahnavi Jayaprakash, unknown

Stockhausen in Adorjan's Lexicon

When I came across the entry for Karlheinz Stockhausen in Andras Adorjan's Lexicon der Flöte (Page 754), the elements of this blog entry started brewing. Let's see if I can form a coherent thought or two. First of all, here is the German text:

Gegen Ende der 1970er Jahre wurden die Aufführungen mehr und mehr von seinem [Stockhausens] engsten Familien-und Freundeskreis gestaltet, die Flötenmusik vor allem von Kathinka Pasveer (*1959); eine weite Verbreitung seiner Musik wurde dadurch eher behindert. Es bleibt aber zu hoffen, dass solch wichtige Werke wie Amour, In Freundschaft oder Kathinkas Gesang noch die ihnen gebührende Würdigung und öffentliche Zuhörerschaft gewinnen werden.

This entry was probably written in English and translated to German. It may be that the author of this entry was misunderstood; perhaps an infelicity of translation into German rendered the words not exactly as he intended. If my observations are based on such a misunderstanding, I offer my apologies.

Since I have not come across the English original, I offer a crude translation of my own:

Towards the end of the 1970s his [Stockhausen's] music was performed more and more by his family and close friends, the flute music primarily by Kathinka Pasveer (*1959), which rather hindered the propagation, (or circulation, or diffusion) of his music. One hopes however, that such important works as [...] will receive their due appreciation and listeners.

 For decades, many of Stockhausen's close family and friends have done their utmost to make Stockhausen's music accessible to the public and to performers. To blandly blame the music's lack of widespread circulation on the fact that it was performed by (and written for) them does them a huge disservice. The fact that it is accessible at all is thanks to the family and friends of Stockhausen. Since 1998, the Stockhausen Courses in Kürten have been run by Kathinka Pasveer and Susanne Stevens, in order to bring more musicians and public to Stockhausen's music. Furthermore, since his death, they run the Stockhausen Foundation, which puts its money where its mouth is, offering board and lodging for musicians and musicologists who are studying Stockhausen's works.

Who am I to comment on this? I am not a member of Stockhausen's circle, and although I have great respect for him as a composer, and have enjoyed working with him and Kathinka Pasveer, his late works are not exactly my cup of tea. However, as a member of a soloist ensemble which counts Stockhausen as one of its local composers, I am in a position to view this matter with, I hope, some objectivity.

Speaking of objectivity, I am surprised that this entry on Stockhausen was allowed to be printed in a lexicon. A lexicon, or dictionary, lists facts and lets the readers draw their own conclusions.

The author does make a true point about our repertoire. For flutists, none of Stockhausen's works are as prominent in the 20th century repertoire as the Berio Sequenza, Density 21.5 by Varese, Debussy's Syrinx, Takemitsu's Voice or Carter's Scrivo in Vento. (This is my personal top 5 list of Contemporary works that every advanced student should know.) What is it about Stockhausen's music that keeps it from being at the top of repertoire lists?

The most obvious elements are the requirement of memorization and the theatrical elements that some works require.  Amour, In Freundschaft, and Zungenspitzentanz are probably the least effort in this respect. Kathinka's Gesang on the other hand requires a huge commitment of time and energy.

Is the fact Stockhausen wrote these works for a member of his close circle that which hinders their circulation among the general public? Not as I see it. Here is not the place for a lengthy discourse on Stockhausen's aesthetics. But I can say this: his aesthetics are his very own, derived from his work with electronic music, ideas from the Urantia Book, and  the concept of all music as "opera" (having an inescapable visual aspect). His aesthetic has been called Fremde Schönheit or Strange Beauty. These are the highest hurdles to Stockhausen's popularity among performers. His music is not for the faint of heart.

The family members and close friends with whom he worked saw to it that his music could be executed on their instruments, and did not make compositional or aesthetic decisions. They have done their jobs well; everything in a work by Stockhausen is playable and clearly notated. In contrast, how many of us contemporary flutists have scratched our heads nearly bald trying to work out a piece written for a famous flutist of our day who didn't sweat the details of clarity of notation? I certainly have had my share of them, that is why I take the trouble to write this blog in the first place.

Gaudeamus Interpreter's Competition

Here are, I hope, some useful ideas for those wanting to make a program for the Gaudeamus Interpreter's Competition in Holland. Bear in mind I took part in 1996, and things may have changed.

This competition has a different jury every year. They usually select a combination of composers and instrumentalists (or singers). 

 When making a program, you don't need to make a concert program. Just pick pieces that can be mixed and matched well together. Include only pieces you love and can really pull off. Any piece on your program can end up as a selected piece for the final round. An interesting program shows a variety of styles, and a good mix of traditional and extended techniques. If you are going as a soloist, don't take an "accompanist". If you want to do flute and piano music, make it a real partnership. You may be judged along with ensembles of long standing. If you play with electronics make sure they are fool proof. Don't feel you have to have accompanied pieces, chamber music, or pieces with electronics on your program for it to be accepted. If you want to - that's great, but remember you are going to be judged as a whole, along with whomever or whatever is on stage with you.

Here is a list of solo pieces that use extended techniques. (unaccompanied works) It includes works for piccolo, alto and bass flutes. If you are looking for the latest pieces, I'd trawl the latest recordings of contemporary flute music on CD and mp3 on the net. I am aware of many works, but things proliferate so fast that I have no way of being in touch with ALL the cool stuff out there. Good Luck!

Piccolo Pickles

Here's a comparison photo of three piccolos: (left) a Pearl Grenadite, (center) a Philipp Hammig with an August Richard Hammig headjoint, and (right) an Anton Braun.

The photo is pretty bad and overexposed, but you can see the difference in length and taper. Notice that although each piccolo was built to A= 442 specs, that the Braun is shorter and much more tapered at the end. Does anyone have an explanation for that?

I spent years trying to decide whether to spend over 5,000 Euros for a Braun piccolo. The Hammig hybrid I had been playing on is a very good instrument, but I often play in situations where I needed to play louder. People roll their eyes when I tell them that, but the piccolo is not always a deafening beast. In the low and middle registers, especially articulated passages, I was often struggling to project. It doesn't help that those registers are used often with E-flat clarinet, trumpet or percussion with hard mallets. Some composers seem to think that the piccolo will always dominate. However, it's only the third octave that really penetrates. (Then you get the composers who think you can match a pianissimo third octave note with a violin playing the same dynamic. NOT.)

I spoke about my dynamic and articulation problems in the middle and low register with Patricia Morris. She asked me what kind of piccolo I had. When I said Hammig, she said that's likely the problem. Then she allowed me to try her Braun piccolos and I could feel the difference. I could certainly have continued with my Hammig, but we now have a concert series in which our performances are recorded live for CD, warts and all. So I decided to take the plunge.

When my piccolo came from Herr Braun (photo left, with daughter Antonia), I asked him for some guidelines to break in, or rather play in the instrument. Everyone has their theory about new wooden instruments. He gives his general guidelines here but added the following information by telephone. He told me to give it a good 4 to 6 weeks to play in. I was bummed about that as I had a Xenakis program with Thallein and Jalons in 2 weeks, but I took his advice to heart. He said to start with the low register for the first week or so, then move to the middle and only then up to the high register. He said to not let anyone else play it (of course someone trying the piccolo for a few minutes is ok), that the instrument needed to get used to the way I blow on it. And most importantly he said, that I should try to blow more like on the flute than a typical piccolo, that he had made his instruments expressly so, that they could be played more flute-like. It should be a quite relaxed approach. By the way, if you can read German, here is his story, it is amazing!

Herr Braun's advice turns out to be crucial because the instrument can easily go sharp. I expected trouble as I played on my own with a tuner, but when I got with the ensemble, I was so happy that I could just blow and relax, and not have to reach up for any of the notes. I play pulled out a few millimeters. In short, this is a completely different animal from the Hammig! I am liking it very much, though.

I'll put in a good word also for the Hammig and the Pearl. For about 9 years I played on the Hammig with a Werner Fischer head. These are very colorful, flexible and light head joints. Easy to play and very dolce. They are good for non picc specialists or specialists for whom projection is not an issue. I then heard the A. R. Hammig was making very good heads, and ordered a grenadilla one. It gave me an improvement in depth for the middle and low register, and I really liked the overall sound. The Pearl grenadite is the best cheap piccolo on the market, in my opinion. I couldn't believe how well it played compared to Yamaha and the others. For me, anyway.

Non vibrato and the Book of Disquiet

Still from the film projection "Book of Disquiet"
Michel van der Aa

On the first of August this year (2010) I had the privilege of performing Michel van der Aa's "Book of Disquiet" , a multi-media work based on texts of Fernando Pessoa's "factless autobiography". We even shared the stage with Klaus-Maria Brandauer , who gave a powerful if impulsive performance. In addition, since this was a film festival and not a hole-in-the-wall contemporary music festival, we were put up in a 5 star hotel and had our concert in the stunning opera house in Wroclaw. Every once in a while, the perks percolate to our level!

I wanted to use this as a platform for my thoughts about non vibrato, because, well, playing without vibrato for many flutists is a disquieting prospect. It is no longer a novel concept - the Early Music movement has seen to that. However, I've run across a number of contemporary composers who use it as their esthetic, not only for flutists, but for the whole ensemble. It was also the contemporary music trend for ensembles in the 20th century, especially in the Netherlands. I'm not sure if Michel van der Aa is an heir to this tradition, or if his non-vibrato esthetic stems from the sound world of electronically produced sounds.

In any case, the challenge for me was to blend with three violins (also playing non vibrato) and with the other winds (clarinet, bassoon and trumpet). The violins and the flute are often in unison in the high register. No place to hide. The other challenge was the transparency of texture - this is music that has to sound, hmm, nice, for lack of a better word. Not pretty or sugary, but clear and listen-to-able. When a flutist thinks of sounding nice, they will add a shimmer or shine to the sound (i.e. vibrato), just as a person naturally smiles when trying to be nice. Vibrato is our smile, so to say. Without it, we are in danger of a death-like grimace.

I encounter this mortal danger in my studio, too. My students are pretty well behaved when it comes to preparing Baroque pieces. They do their homework, listen to traverso recordings, read Quantz, and sometimes dutifully stifle their vibrato. Stifle. That is the initial reaction to non vibrato. The sound is dead and flat, not only in intonation but in color. What is the trick to playing with a good, healthy, in-tune sound without vibrato? The dilemma of disquiet.

Now, the question of whether one should play Baroque music without vibrato on modern flute is a separate one. My answer to that is: one should played with a modified vibrato (which includes the possibility of non vibrato). If one is performing with a modern piano, I downright discourage complete non vibrato. (read why here)

To avoid death and poor intonation while playing non vibrato

• practice Moyse's de la Sonorite first with vibrato, then repeat non vibrato (B-A# with vibrato; B-A# without vibrato; etc...). The exercises "pour les sons graves" can be practiced in the same way. Make sure the tone quality and intonation of the non vibrato sound matches the sound with vibrato.
• anything that helps you to build support, such as harmonic exercises (those by Trevor Wye, Robert Dick, Peter Lukas Graf, and many more), or using the "Ha Ha Ha" (abdominal accents without tongue) articulation on scales or arpeggios.
  
• anything that will improve the resonance of your sound, such as singing and playing. The reason behind this: if you can manage to get all overtones of a note lined up, in tune and ringing freely, you should have a nice sound without having to add any wobble.

Easier said than done. I'm all ears for other ideas.

Small-Interval Multiphonics

On the occasion of the publication of my article on Kazuo Fukushima's Shun-San in Flute Talk May/June 2010 and Robert Dick's upcoming masterclass in Bremen (July 6, 2010), I'd like to elucidate some ideas about multiphonics.

Working on Shun-San got me thinking about small-interval multiphonics (those with an interval of an augmented second or less). The first line of advice on how to produce these comes from Robert himself, and can be viewed here. His advice is fantastic, spot-on and humorful, I recommend viewing it.*
*Although I don't agree with what Robert says in regard to offset G flutes or doing sit-ups, but that's another story.

In my Flute Talk article, I touch on the subject of small-interval multiphonics. This passage has elicited some raised eyebrows and questions. To begin, I'll site the passage:

Flutists often encounter difficulty with small-interval multiphonics because they are hung up on trying to produce a focus immediately. That is difficult to do when you are blowing in two directions at once. The irony of these small-interval multiphonics is, at first, you have to unfocus to get the sense of focus. Open up the embouchure hole and let both notes in. Initially there will be a lot of air, but with practice you can refine them. They will sound focused and rich because of the very low difference tone caused by a close interval. When you get the hang of playing these small intervals, it may help to focus on producing this difference tone rather than the individual notes themselves. That may seem strange but sometimes it works.

The first point of confusion may arise in that I assume the reader is already familiar with Robert Dick's advice: get to know the dynamic range of each note first. Then, keeping a constant airspeed, use the angle of the air to find both notes. If you don't research the gamut of air speed for each note, you'll never find the small range of speed that overlaps and works for both.

This is what I meant by having to unfocus to get the sense of focus. You need a constant airspeed and a wide angle at first that will let both notes in. Please forgive my artistic crudeness, but here hopefully you can see where the angles overlap. If your focus is too narrow at first, you may miss the range where the angles overlap.

Now, to explain that bit about the low difference tone. An explanation of difference tones can be found in Wiki. Often is is not an actual, distinct tone that I hear. Rather, it is just a low sort of humming sound, or it's as if something opens acoustically at the bottom - a feeling rather than a sound.

I hope this has been of help. Some of those multiphonics in Shun-San are hair-raising! Even someone like me who has been familiar with them for years needs to put in serious practice time on them. It is a good refresher!

Paradies Remembered

It's been over a month since the marathon premiere of Karlheinz Stockhausen's Klang cycle. I have been wanting to share the experience here, but I survived the project with too many mixed feelings. However if I don't get it out, my blogging energy may get permanently clogged. Also, Robert Bigio, the editor of Flute (the journal of the British Flute Society) has entrusted me with another project: a feature on Kathinka Pasveer. So it's time to get my thoughts in order.

Paradies is an 18-minute work for solo flute with electronics (8-channel tape). It must be played eyes closed, from memory, while wearing a specific shade of pink (HKS31, it's called in the German textile industry). A shirt in this color, worn with white pants and shoes, is also acceptable. The piece does not require movement on stage or any sort of choreography.

I have performed this piece 12 times between April 24 and May 29, 2010, and will perform it again in November in England.

Most of the questions that come my way have to do with how I managed to memorize the work. It is nowhere near as daunting as one might think because:
1) The piece uses the same series of 24 pitches over and over, mostly in sequence and only occasionally in easily recognizable variations. Analysis of this work is a no-brainer.
2) The player is involved in the compositional process.

To begin, I must explain that the work has 24 strophes. Each of these strophes has two parts:
1) a ritornello in which a melody is given but the dynamics, speed and articulation are decided by the player (this is the "involved in the compositional process" part)
2) a composed insert. The composed parts are called inserts because they may be inserted at any point during the ritornello. (Theoretically. This piece is fraught with unwritten rules, and the insertion of the composed insert must follow certain guidelines not given in the score.)

I began work on the piece after New Year's 2010, so had just over 4 months preparation time. There was no way for me to memorize the piece from the outset, since the ritornelli needed to be worked out and played for Kathinka. I didn't want to write anything onto hard disk only to have to erase it later. What I did memorize from the beginning was the structure of the piece. That in retrospect was a good idea. By the way, the ritornelli's dynamics, speed and articulation should be worked out rather than improvized. Whether you write them out or not is up to you. If your memory is at all visual or photographic, as mine partially is, I recommend writing.

I also realized the sooner I had a good version of the ritornelli, the sooner I could begin memorizing them. So my first order of business was writing the ritornelli. During the first rehearsal with Kathinka (January 25th), I ended up having to erase about two-thirds of what I had written, having trespassed many of the unwritten rules. By the time of the next rehearsal with Kathinka, on April 1st, we had a version that we could both be happy with and I could start the memory work in ernest. At that point it was not difficult. The ritornelli had been worked on for so long that memorizing them came easily, and the structure and the composed inserts had already been memorized.

I hope readers were not expecting a full discorse on how one memorizes music. For most of us it is an individual combination of visual, analytical and kinesthetic elements. For me, it is perhaps
Visual = 10%
Analytical = 10%
Kinesthetic (muscle memory)= 80%

Some of my tricks included
1) Setting a time schedule by working backwards from the date of the performance. Divide and conquer. Don't try to memorize all at once but set a certain amount for a certain time period.
2) Going through the piece without the flute in hand or the music in front of me. This I often did in the dark before going to sleep.
3) Procrastinating as much as legally possible in order to have the peace of mind required for clear intellectual work. This means taxes didn't get filed, Spring cleaning waited until Summer. Sort of the buy now, pay later strategy. If you can afford it, it does work.


Photos: Melvyn Poore and Liz Hirst

Low Register: Descending to Paradise

Countdown: just about one month before my performances (8 in two days!) of Karlheinz Stockhausen's PARADIES for flute and electronic music. Am I panicking? No. But I have been soundly kicked in the butt. This piece allows for absolutely no technical weaknesses. In addition, I've been challenged to really expand my stability, dynamics, and coloristic range of the low register.

PARADIES is composed of 24 stanzas. Each stanza has a group of notes (ritornelli) that may be played freely and repeated, and a composed insert which can be played at any time within the stanza. Each ritornello has a fermata on a low note - that makes a lot of long low notes that need to be varied in terms of length, dynamic, vibrato, or even air sounds, fluttertongue or singing and playing.

Soft, quiet dynamics are not acoustically viable in PARADIES (even though the flute is miked). They appear at strategic moments when the electronics are not sounding full blip, but these are rare moments. I think this is too bad, but hey, Mr. S didn't ask my opinion. A quiet dynamic may be played within the ritornelli, but there needs to be a crescendo after it. Therefore, my expansion has been in the direction of forte.


So I'm finally getting to the point about what I've learned about the low register. [By the way, the following can also help with bass flute playing.]
The number one killer of the low register (for me at this time) is pressing of the flute into the chin. This makes the distance from the exit of the air stream to the edge of the embouchure hole too short. The "air reed" needs space for that register, especially if you want to use a heavy vibrato!

The whole challenge in playing loud and low is to be able to give more air but to make sure the air is not too fast. Aim it down, move the flute away. These are not original ideas, but just something we all need to be reminded about from time to time. Also, there are two pieces of advice from Michel Debost (The Simple Flute) that I find really work for me:
1) Play on the middle breath. That sounds strange because if you have a long low note marked ff, the instinct is to take a huge breath and blast away. But if you have a very full tank in your lungs your airstream will me more difficult to manage, it just may come out too fast and crack that low note. I've found that with practice, I can play a long, loud, low note without having to take a HUGE breath.
2) Release a bit of air through the nose a fraction of a second before you play. That also sounds strange, but makes sense if you think of your airstream as a violin bow that is being set in motion before the attack.

Now to see if this all works even if I'm wearing pink! That's right, the score specifies what color you have to wear for this piece, regardless of your chromosonal situation. The color for the 21st hour of the KLANG cycle that PARADIES represents falls in the pink spectrum. (If you play Harmonien, you wear blue, Balance, you wear green.) Dynamic expansion and wardrobe expansion, all-in-one!
Photo: Disney clip-art

Just Intonation: Thirds and Sixths, an exercise

I'd like to take the opportunity to write about the benefits of doing intonation exercises with 3rds and 6ths using just intonation.

• To refine the ear. These are simple intervals, and the difference tone (or combination tone) is strong enough to easily adjust.
• Flexibility. To make these adjustments, a flutist must be willing to make minute changes of the angle of the air by manipulating any three points: lips, jaw, or rotating the flute in or out.
• Accuracy. The theoretical knowledge that, from the bass note, major thirds are 14 cents flatter and minor thirds 16 cents sharper will cut out some of the fishing around for the right direction. (That's thinking like a flutist. Objectively stated: major thirds are narrower, minor thirds are wider.)
  
• Grasp of microtonality. Seriously. Take the second bar of the exercise below. The G is first played as a just major third to an E-flat (=14 cents flat). Then the bass note changes and it becomes the just minor third to E-natural (=16 cents sharp). The difference you have traveled is 30 cents, almost a sixth-tone! You get a feel for these sixth tones, double that, you've got third tones and you're off!
  

But why do these exercises? After all, I do not propose that thirds and sixths should always be tuned justly! There are many times when it makes sense to tune these intervals using equal temperment, such as when playing with any fixed pitch instrument. (I wish conductors would also take this seriously. How many times have you worked on intonation during a wind sectional rehearsal, when your ears will naturally drift to just intonation, only to have it completely different when you add the strings, harp, percussion or piano!)

Another place to avoid just intonation in real life is when tuning minor thirds in minor chords (See Claudio's comment below). Here, the equally-tempered minor third works better. Here's why: remember, if you tune an interval justly, the difference/combination tone you should hear will belong to (or complete) the implied major chord. For example, let's take the minor chord:
C
E-flat
G

A justly-played C and E-flat will give you a difference tone A-flat, because A-flat is the major chord that the interval C - E-flat implies. That sounds very nice! But add the G and it's no longer nice because G and A-flat are causing dissonance. This may be why, historically, those beautiful mediaeval works in minor keys always ended on major chords. See what you can learn about Early Music by delving into the details of intonation! The practices were, well, practical, not academic.

While playing this exercise it will also become apparent why, historically, notes with flats were generally played sharper and notes with sharps were generally played flatter.

Directions for playing with a tuner: during the fermatas, change the pitch of the tuner with the right hand while holding the flute (or piccolo) with the left hand only (use B-flat thumb for Bb and A#). Try not to interrupt playing during this process so you can make the adjustment as finely as possible.

Click here for the exercise (this is the same one that was previously on my website).

Tips for Complex Rhythms a la Ferneyhough's Superscriptio

Below is some advice for works by composers (such as Brian Ferneyhough) who use complex rhythms not based on pulse-centered activity. I spoke with Mr. Ferneyhough about this subject and he was very clear that in his music, the measure is a "domain of a certain energy quotient" not related to a pulse.

In other words, a measure can be interpreted as an "area of activity". The level of activity can easily be reckoned using the starting tempo. From there we can calculate the length of any measure or individual note through simple mathematics.

So if the rhythm cannot be felt as a pulse, one can at least memorize the speed in which it is supposed to happen. Surprisingly, it's sometimes much slower than one thinks!

Ferneyhough's Superscriptio for solo piccolo is a good example. The basic tempo is an eighth-note at 56. This means a whole note in 4/4 equals 7, because there are 8 eighth notes in a 4/4 bar, and 8 divided by 56 = 7.

From this number 7 you can deduce all the "odd" time signatures that are not based on divisions of the eighth note. An eighth note quintuplet (or a "1/10" bar) will equal 70 because there are 10 quintuplets in a 4/4 bar (7 x 10 = 70). To find the length of a 3/10 bar you would divide 70 by 3. If you have a 5/10 bar you would divide 70 by 5. An eighth note triplet (or a "1/12" bar) will equal 84 because there are 12 triplets in a 4/4 bar (7 x 12 = 84). To find the length of a 3/12 bar you would divide 84 by 3, and to find the length of a 5/12 bar you would divide 84 by 5.

What if the compound rhythms are stacked on top of each other, as in Ferneyhough's other works? This is an imaginary example:
Let's imagine as in Superscriptio the starting tempo is an eighth-note at 56. The last six 16ths (at the end of the bar) roughly equal two 16th-note triplets at 64. The nine 32nds under the 9:5 are roughly equal to three sets of 32nd triplets going at 116.

It could have been notated thus (among other possibilities):


Here's the math:
From above we know that a 1/10 bar equals 70.
A 4/10 bar will equal 17.5 (70 divided by 4 = 17.5).
Each 11-tuplet will be 192.5 (17.5 x 11 = 192.5).
There are 6 of these 11-tuplets at the end. If we think of them as two 16th-note triplets, divide 192.5 by 3 = ca. 64

5 of those 11-tuplets equals 38.5 (192.5 divided by 5 = 38.5).
In the 9:5, if you think of the 9-tuplets as 3 sets of 32nd triplets, those triplets go at ca. 116 (38.5 x 3 = 115.5)

A click track will ensure accuracy without a doubt. However, if you opt for another approach, try the following: memorize the speed of each bar by practicing related bars together. Keeping Superscriptio as an example, you can practice all the bars based on "1/12" while keeping the metronome at tempo 84. (Yes, you will be jumping from measure to measure, or page to page.) Then do the same for all the "1/10" bars, then "1/8" etc. You are not trying to achieve musical continuity yet, this is just an exercise to help relate all the bars with this tempo, and to keep them consistent. When you finally put the piece together, your "internal conductor" will hopefully have a kinesthetic memory of the pulse of each measure and make the tempo changes accordingly.

Also see my post Seminar with Brian Ferneyhough.
Other thoughts?

Trouble-shooting problems between composers and performers

There are several categories of potential trouble areas between composers and intstrumentalists:
1) Basic orchstration mistakes
2) Unfamiliarity (on either side) with a particular extended technique or effect
3) Unclear notation

What I am about to say may seem a bit didactic and Miss Mannerish, but really, it's common sense. And as you may gather, I've had enough bad experiences to know what works and what doesn't. I'm all ears for other ideas though.

Flutists, unless you are dealing with a composer/performer, you are the expert of your instrument and in a possible position to educate the composer. See your role as that of an educator, but use it with care because no one likes to feel patronised. To say simply "this is impossible" is very unproductive, even when it comes to a simple mistake such as a low C on the piccolo.

When faced with difficulty, the first step is to find an alternative. It is sometimes useful to take the initiative and suggest one yourself. As in all possible conflict situations, it is better to retain the "I" message rather than the "you" message. For example: I naively expect composers to know basic orchestration rules for flute and piccolo; therefore I am constantly disappointed. What to do? Some example suggestions: "could I take this low C up an octave? My standard piccolo only plays to low D." or "given the (lack of) time we have, I would much prefer to play this rapid 4th octave passage on the piccolo rather than on the flute." or "on this high C, I can achieve a much nicer pianissimo on the piccolo rather than on the flute." The composer will most likely get the idea.

Articulation of staccato notes is another difficulty I run into with composers (and even conductors). On the lowest notes, the flute has a long resonating tube, and this takes time to speak. Some head joint cuts are designed so this register speaks loudly and easily. One can always strive to do better, and there are many exercises for the improvement of this technique. However, if you run into serious trouble trying to match the length of notes with string instruments or electronic sounds, you do have an acoustical excuse. If you see an alternative, suggest it. If not, express your willingness to work on improvement, but show the composer the length of tube required to resonate (and thus the physical limitations).

Often, when puzzling over an extended technique, rather than say "this is impossible" or "I can't do this", it helps to ask what the composer actually wants acoustically. Is there another technique which you can do which would be just as or more effective? Or ask where s/he got the technique from. Was it from another player whom you could simply contact for advice? Was it from a book? Were acoustical considerations overlooked such as the difference between a B foot and a C foot, or the difference between any two flutes or flutists?

Most composers I have worked with are very open and eager to look for solutions together. I once experienced a misunderstanding in an ensemble piece where I was faced with a passage of rapid, high whistle tones (notated exactly so: "whistle tone") marked forte. The composer, Beat Furrer, actually wanted these sounds loud, which is an acoustical impossibility. He insisted, however, that the previous player had achieved this. I asked him what the previous player had actually done, then tried out a few things according to his description. It turned out that what he wanted were overblown harmonics with a lot of air, which in the context of this ensemble piece did give a whistling effect. So these effects were not whistle tones as I had learned them, nor as they appear in textbooks. I pointed this out to the composer, who did not take my point or make any "correction" in the part. As long as we had found the acoustic solution together, he was satisfied his notation had produced the results he wanted. What to do? In this case, I decided I had done my "duty" by pointing out a possible misunderstanding for the next flutist. To have taken "educator" role too far would have just meant getting into an argument (which I would have undertaken had this been a solo piece).

This is perhaps a long way of saying to my fellow flutists: let's work together with composers to encourage the following:

• a more standardized notation for extended techniques
  
• a good working score for the next performer who comes along!

Tips for composing and notating aeolian (air) sounds

Here are some tips on the use of air or aeolian sounds:
Be sure to specify if you want these sounds:
A. produced in playing position (so the air goes across the flute and produces a pitch that corresponds with the fingers), or
B. produced inside the flute: i.e., if you want the flutist to cover the embouchure hole and produce a kind of unpitched "white noise".

Sometimes I am asked to produce type "A" with the specification "no discernible pitch". This is nonsense: if a flutist blows across the flute they will always produce some sort of pitch. Even with no fingers down, you will get something in the neighborhood of C#. If you want unpitched noise, ask to flutist to blow into or inside the flute (cover the embouchure hole). In this position, the flutist can produce a range of unpitched sounds from bright (higher sounding white noise) to dark (lower sounding white noise) by changing the position of the tongue.

This leads to my next point: the use of different vowel sounds for color effects. This is most effective with the embouchure hole covered (type "B"). A good example is Hans Zender's Lo-Shu II. Vowel sounds are much less marked in normal playing position (type "A"), so be sure to take care in ensemble situations.

Some general thoughts about notation:
There are several notational traditions from the Artaud and Levine books concerning the notation of "aeolian" or "air" sounds which I would like to ask composers to avoid. When composing these sounds especially in a situation where rhythm is crucial (especially in an ensemble situation) please avoid the notation that uses empty note-heads:

This notation makes the distinction between a quarter note and a half note difficult. When a player is reading, this can be very annoying. It's good to have a different note shape, but be sure to fill in the note head in when needed so the player can read the rhythms easily:


An easy way to indicate a gradual change from normal sound to air is by using text with a dotted line:



or simply with a filled circle connected to an open circle by a dotted line:

Tips for composing singing and playing techniques

When writing for the flute and voice there are several things to take into consideration.

The first may be: where to notate the voice line?
For solo pieces: if you have an extended or complicated voice line it is customary and practical to use a separate staff below that of the flute line. On the other hand, for short simple passages, I prefer to have the voice pitches on the same line as the flute.

In the context of an ensemble piece, I would use the same guidelines as above, and please be sure to notate the voice line below the flute. As a general rule, it is best to leave free space above the staff for an ensemble player to mark in beats, que notes, or remarks from the conductor.

Another consideration is the distortion produced by the simultaneous use of the voice and flute. The use of the voice (as most of you know, I am sure) in conjunction with the flute greatly distorts not only the flute sound, but the voice line and any text that you may want to set. Because of this distortion, getting a true polyphony going can also be tricky if you have a complicated passage. In this case, if you want true polyphony, use two instruments. I prefer the use of the voice and flute as a coloristic element, rather than using it as an attempt to create polyphony.

If you want to set text that is understandable to the audience, it is not advisable to ask the flutist to play at the same time as speaking. A better technique would be to have the flutist speak or sing the words using the resonance of the flute only. Beware of text with nasal vowels, these produce no resonance on the flute.

Speaking or singing directly into the flute (with the embouchure hole completely closed) is another option. This of course produces a muffled effect; however, rapid key action will interrupt the muffling and create an acoustic "panning". This effect can be heard at the beginning of George Crumb's Voice of the Whale

Some examples of the most effective uses of flute and voice are Noa Noa by Kaija Saariaho for flute and live electronics, and Toru Takemitsu's Voice .

When using a vocal line with the alto flute, there is the option of transposing the vocal line or writing it at pitch. Personally, I prefer having the voice line transposed with the alto flute. Since I have only a relative sense of pitch, it makes sense for me to have the voice always referring to the alto flute pitch; although, if the flutist for whom you are writing has a strong sense of perfect pitch, it would be better to write the voice part at pitch.

Composers, Common Mistakes When Writing for Flute

Some common mistakes are:

• Low C# to D# trill on flute
  
• Harmonics in the first octave
  
• Low C and C# on piccolo
  
• Percussive effects in the second and third octave: key clicks, tongue or lip pizzicati, tongue ram. While these are not mistakes per se, they are not very effective outside the flute's first octave.

see also:
Writing for Students
Pet Peeves

All music is an articulation exercise (or could be made into one)

In response to the question "How should I practice articulation?", I always answer "everything is an articulation exercise, or can be adapted into one". Spending more money on expensive Leduc editions will not help your tongue. Reading theories about where the optimal point of articulation is (behind the teeth, on the palate, between the lips) can give you ideas but not answers, since nobody seems to be in 100% agreement.

Since nobody can look into your mouth and tell you where to put your tongue, I'll repeat another truism: all articulation practice is tone practice. Your ears will tell you what works. Good articulation requires just as much awakening of the ears as the tongue.

"But I have an OK tone, it's just when I use my tongue for any amount of time it starts to sound bad!", you may answer.

"Good!" I say, "So the ears are switched on."
The short answer to this problem is that when you engage the tongue, the air behind it has to keep going despite a short interruption. Many players forget this and instead of increasing abdominal support to keep the energy behind the air stream they tighten the embouchure, or even worse, use the jaw to help the tongue! This is what causes fatigue and lack of control in long articulated passages.

It could also be the tongue is working too hard. My former teacher Bernard Goldberg used to admonish me be saying "you are only slicing air, not last week's bagels".

There are a few checkpoints: maybe the distance between the Du and Gu of double tonguing is too great. Some find it useful to shorten this distance by thinking the Du Gu action as having a vertical (up and down) dimension to it as opposed to just a back-and-forth motion.

How to establish efficiency? There are no shortcuts. I'll go out on a limb and say that if you seriously, seriously devote time to this aspect of playing, your body can't help but adopt the most efficient means possible - if you include your ears and brain in the process. The ears tell you when it's good and your brain tells you to stop, re-investigate when it's not good or when you're fatiguing yourself. This process will repeat itself a zillion times. Like any muscular activity we need diligent, consequent practice and patience to establish new habits.

Try the following with Mendelssohn's Scherzo, it's an adaptation of Aurèle Nicolet's method:

Break the solo into manageable passages (for example, the first passage could be the first 13 complete bars)
Play the passage slowly legato - each note focused and resonant
Play the passage slowly with ha ha articulation (no tongue!)
Play the passage with flutter tongue (either kind, throat or tongue)
Play the passage double tonguing every single written note (g,g,b-flat, b-flat,c,c,d,d,etc...)
Play the passage as written

You notice I try to avoid advice on placement and mechanics of the tongue, and mention of particular "schools" like the French School, which is supposedly the ace of articulation. That may well be, but listen to old recordings from the early 20th century English virtuosi, holy smokes, they could hold their own! Also, South Indian musicians, whose native Dravidian languages use retroflex sounds, where the tongue is actually pointed backwards, can move their tongues at lightning speed. Just listen to any mrdangam player doing the rhythmic solmization of konnakkol (that ta-ki-di-mi stuff)!

In a nutshell:
Ears are just as important as the tongue.
Remember the air produces the sound, not the tongue.
Invest wisely, get more on your return! In this case it means a long-term committment to intelligent practice.