Seminar with Brian Ferneyhough 25 March, 2009

Almost didn't get out of bed that day. I was under the weather, and a warm blanket, but I managed to hop on the train to Amsterdam in time for Ferneyhough's seminar on his flute pieces, which was organized by Joel Bons (artistic director of the Nieuw Ensemble) and Harrie Starreveld.

Harrie kicked off by playing a bit of Mnemosyne for bass flute and tape (or- and this I'd forgotten - 9 live players. I'd just love to be part of that someday!). He discussed how he learned and practiced the piece. Nowadays, you can put the notes into the computer and play them back, at all speeds. This would function as a kind of mnemonic learning device for the rhythm, but only an additional device, you would still need a click track to stay together with the tape. Ferneyhough highly recommends using a click track. Some players have tried without and not succeeded. The problem with getting out of sync with the tape is that the harmonies, which play a crucial role, will be all wrong.

Harrie played a recording of a computer realization of one bar to show how one could slow it down to learn the rhythms mnemonically

BUT...

....a computer-like rendering with literal-minded exactitude is not the point of this piece (or any of Ferneyhough's music). Each of the three lines of the solo part has its own character. Indeed, that is one reason they are notated on separate staves. There is a play of interruptive polyphony between them. He also went on to say that his music is considered complex because conservatory training in rhythm is only basic. The focus in ear training is on interval recognition, rather than rhythmic recognition.

How does the human element come into play in this piece? One way: the performer is observing him/herself learn. There are the 3 textures/voices, the performer has to choose which one is primary at a given time. However, he cautioned against mere approximation: approximation is the negative side of interpretation.

Harrie remarked that the end result sounds very flexible. This led Ferneyhough to remark that when you hear a performance of Beethoven, you don't hear a reading of the score: you hear a translation of tradition. The vernacular of music is evident in Beethoven, it is not in contemporary music.

To me, personally, this is an added human element to a performance of his music. This contemporary vernacular is yet-to-be defined, and seeking it is part of the creative process. Maybe this is also what he means by the performer observing his/herself learn?

Next our student Daisuke played Cassandra's Dream Song. One part of the opening passage was the best Ferneyhough had heard it to date. Way to go Daisuke! The opening strophe Ferneyhough described thus: the first half is "effort rhythm" then "precise rhythm". It is a building up of energies, a somatic crescendo, then releasing. This is to engage the body from the very first moment of the piece. The flute as an extension of the body is how he thinks of this piece.

I didn't know that the original idea was to improvise the order of the strophes during performance. However, Ferneyhough has gotten away from this idea. One has to find a way to intersect the two pages and create chains of continuity.

He touched on several of the techniques, the different vibrati/smorzato, and the section with voice. A male flutist should, ideally, sing falsetto. If not possible, you need to add the beating effect, as this passage should sound like two weaving sine waves. He is not sure if the fingering of the multiphonic with the high F# is a good one. He didn't have an open-holed flute to work with, so was wondering if someone would come up with a better fingering.
While discussing notation at one point he said: you don't choose notation, it chooses you.

Then a brave lady [must find out name, anyone?] played Superscriptio. This turns out to be not the first piece with irrational meters (1/10, 3/12). It was first done by Henry Cowell, then by Dieter Schnebel in the 1950's.

He admits that the opening page and a half is cruel. However, that is not the intention. This piece opens his entire Carceri cycle: a single instrument - high and very light. The opening section is not meant to be "musical" - rather, it is coming to terms with ways of contrapuntal thinking. Later on, the material becomes "musical". Harrie commented that the opening is however quite melodic, like a children's ditty. He even performed it as such for a radio broadcast.

The next section needs attention to the speed of articulated passages. They are at uncomfortable speeds, sometimes slower than expected. This is important, otherwise one can get carried away and go with the vertige, but then it ends up sounding like any other contemporary piccolo piece.

There is a famous passage in this piece with repeated C's that are notated differently, but performed at the same speed. This is because he has several systems running simultaneously. When things like this happen, OK. Even if his system comes up with something tonal like a reference to a major triad: so be it. The performer needs to be aware when this happening, but doesn't need to show it to the audience.

Further, he explained the meaning of the title "Superscriptio". It's part of an emblem (usually found in collections called emblem books). This was a 16th century form of learned entertainment - a combination of texts and images . Above the image a short motto (lemma, inscriptio [superscriptio - because it is above] ) is scratched or handwritten introducing the theme or subject, which is symbolically bodied in the picture itself (icon, pictura); the picture is then described and elucidated by an epigram ( subscriptio ) or short prose text.

Here is an example of two French emblems

This is not a complete reporting of my notes from the seminar, only some of the things I was able to jot down while also taking photos!

Robert Dick, 22 March 2009

Left to right: Charlotte, Johanna, Nozomi, Robert, Wan, Kanae

Last weekend I had the pleasure of attending, albeit briefly, Robert's masterclass in Wuppertal, Germany. It was great to see him! The last time I saw him, he was walking out on a concert I gave at the BAM in New York! Not because of me though. Our group was playing very loud minimalistic music, not his (or my) cup of tea. At least I got to wear earplugs. Since then, we've both become parents, so we had a good exchange on the joys and difficulties of juggling children and career. We're both "older" parents, and are on our own as far as having no near relatives or live-in help to give us a hand.

Be that as it may, I got a good dose of inspiration. He began Sunday morning chatting about singing and playing, and the importance of singing in general. There's nothing like it to get you listening. He said that if he were to teach a beginner, he would start with singing. This resonates with what I have been thinking these years, esp. after having studied in India. There, one learns to sing or use the voice first, even in training to be a percussionist! I think we are a strange musical culture, that puts some object into a kid's hand and says, now make music out of it! Someday, I must put my India notes on blog.
Anyhow, back to Robert.

5 of our (Harrie Starreveld's and my) students, past and present, took part. I was very impressed with what Robert had to say about Mozart and Kuhlau. This was the first time I had heard him coach the classical and romantic repertoire; his keen musicality and vivid imagination made for very good lessons.

We did touch on learning harmonic multiphonics, in the context of Fukushima's Mei. This applies to Berio Sequenza as well. [The 1st days of the masterclass went into extended techniques in detail - I unfortunately missed them.] When it comes to the harmonic multiphonics that are found in these two pieces, it pays to put in some serious time in studying them before learning the piece. You don't learn the sonority in the piece, just like you don't learn the D major scale by playing Mozart!


He described it thus: by not practicing the sonorities first and just hoping they come in the concert - it is as if you walk down to the sea and just happen to reach in the water and pick out the exact fish you wanted!

How to go about preparing harmonic multiphonics:
Practice octaves, fifths, and fourths - in that order.
With octaves, it is easiest to begin where the flute has a short tube: C2 - C3. then work your way down.
With fifths and fourths, begin where the flute is longest, low C or B and work your way up.
Suggested practice time devoted to this: 15 min each day.

The benefit of this is not only to learn these sonorities, but to make the lips fit. If it's worth doing, it's worth doing well. This is the practice pathway up the mountain!

How To Get Pregnant - Even If....

Even if you are a man! There's a man behind this idea - sax player Ned Rothenberg, to be exact. He described his practicing as "getting pregnant" creatively. Here is the article where he mentions it.

I really admire his improvisations. He must spend a lot of the time pregnant! His CD "Amulet" with Tuvan singer Sainkho Namchulak is something else.

I drew great inspiration from it when preparing for my trip to Tuva in 2004. It was my first solo appearance only improvising, and I was happy that it was in a far and distant land. Although I don't think the concert went well, it was a very fruitful time for me - I really practiced a lot to prepare for it and took some practice notes which I use to this day. Someday I'll post about my adventures in Tuva!

Although from time to time it is part of my job, I just hate being an assembly - line flutist. Piece gets on the stand, practiced, performed, basta. Next. And so on. Although I learn pieces fairly quickly, I really don't like to. It's one thing I really can't stand about the contemporary music business. I'm also at a point in my life where I really enjoy contemplation, it would be great to spend time on my instrument pondering different interpretations of Bach, or any great composer for that matter. Or deepening my understanding of tone production and discovering new sounds. But often it's monkey-work. By that, I mean spending time churning through pages littered with excessive black dots, my trusty metronome by my side, starting half-speed and inching ever upwards.

My ideal is that I have enough time to live with a piece of music, or for it to become a part of me. This is also why I like practicing. I remember my school days in Amsterdam, practicing in my then-boyfriend's attic. He would tell me: why do you practice so much? you don't really need to! Well, I was getting pregnant. I get full of the music and then and only then am I ready to fling it out.

Lucky for us (flutists)! We now have modern "classics". I have lived with the Berio Sequenza ca. 15 years, Ferneyhough's Carceri for 12 years, Varese Density 21.5 for 10 (learned that one late!). My next solo concert (5 July) I hope to make a mostly "classical" one, along with two new pieces by younger composers. What luxury! Now to juggle time for practice, rehearsals, teaching, cuddling (baby and husband), household stuff and blogging. Dang it, I wish I had a maid, now that would really be luxury....

Wannabe Yogi - and some breathing ideas

I am writing this in honor of my lapse in yoga practice. Once I confess this sin, I can go and sin no more - that is, get back into my practice. Don't know what happened, I was ill at the end of Feb. and since then the dark, grey days of late winter have left me unmotivated for movement.

Why is yoga practice so important? I have enough to do, cuddling my boy, practicing flute, teaching and rehearsing. Why? Because I feel like a dog's breakfast if I don't. Or like a rusted-out car.

I have a great teacher, we've been working privately for the past 6 years. At first we did Ashtanga, then more mixed with Hatha and Universal Yoga. I think she deserves a separate blog entry for the future.

When I was in school, I had wonderful flute teachers. Since graduating, I joked that my Alexander Technique teacher was my best flute teacher, and she was for those three years after school. Now, I think my yoga teacher is my best flute teacher, although she says for my Ayurvedic type (Vata), flute playing is not the healthiest activity for me.

After all these years, I should know something by now about my body and how to use it to breathe and play the flute. Abdominal breathing helps - pranayama (breathing exercise) helps too. These are calming, expanding concepts. I also love Michel Debost's ideas from The Simple Flute about expansion and retention.

Sometimes, however, I find that Uddiyana Bhanda works. That's what all flute teachers tell you never to do! It's the diaphragm lock - you inhale while drawing the abdomen in and expanding the ribcage. This gives you a rush of energy in your upper body. No, I don't play like that, but if I need a kick, this is what I do. Peter Lukas Graf's 2nd breathing exercise in Check Up for Flutists partially uses this concept - although he doesn't use the yogic terms.

Speaking of diaphragm! I learned through Lea Pearson's book Body Mapping for Flutists that the concept of breathing through, or using, the diaphragm is pointless. You cannot control it or feel it directly, as its movement is regulated by the abdominal muscles.

These are the muscles you need to control: these in turn are connected to the long, long muscles psoas major, (if I remember correctly), which are connected to the outer edge of the diaphragm and run all the way down to the legs! That's why it's important to keep excess tension out of the legs, it really can inhibit the movement of the diaphragm.
More research is needed on my part, so I'll stop here. I thought I'd pass this on though, because it really makes sense to me anatomically.

The Value of Time II

Here's a run-down of what I'm up to practice-wise. Not interesting reading for sensation seekers. Sorry. But now and then I need to keep tabs on the household stuff.
Yes, having a 6-month-old bundle of joy does compromise one's practice time, especially if one is also working. So I've been very vigilant about keeping time and here's what it comes out to:

• 4 min. Tai Chi hand exercises
• 8 min. Harmonic and Trill warm up
• 8 min. Scales/ Taffanel Gaubert
• 10 min. Scales with articulation and excerpts with articulation*
• 8 min. Tone, dynamic and vibrato exercises from PL Graf's Check Up
  
• 4 min. movement of Bach Sonata

That's a total of 42 min. just basic maintenance! Plus goofing around, sipping tea, messing with the tuner/metronome, stretching, looking for pencil = 8 min. So the whole " maintenance and warm up" lasts 50 min.! Hmmm. Well, I think I'll stick with this for now, plus I plan on adding 15 min. of Moyse next week when I have fewer rehearsals. To explain: I am having to build up after a hiatus since September. I have been playing regularly since October; however, need to be in Solo Recital Form within a couple of months, and the above regime with added Moyse is what it will take. Then there are the pieces to practice.....

* I include some repertoire in my warm up - esp. with articulation. There was a time (1996, to be exact) that I warmed up on Berio's Sequenza. Yes, I was that fit (and nuts!). Otherwise, it could be Mendelssohn's Scherzo or Carnival of the Animals. Today it was Zappa's Echidna's Arf (for the 5-tuplets) and Black Page no. 1 (for the 11-tuplets)!

It seems I can't leave the house until I'm sure my tongue is in working order, and that my articulation is clean. Sort of like having clean socks and underwear, you should always be prepared! There are people who won't leave the house unless their shirt is ironed, or their shoes are spiffy, I'm not that picky.....

Some of you may also wonder why I do scales before tone studies. That was Peter Lloyd's idea and I find it really works for me. Get playing first, get things working first, then to concentrated exercise on tone.

Bottom of the Food Chain

Wondering why I haven't posted recently? This is where I have been all week! At the bottom of the food chain! OK, maybe I exaggerate. Maybe more like a pawn on the chessboard of pieces where composers, conductors, organizers, managers are the big players. We play what sells, and ideas sell, beautiful packaging sells, regardless of the quality that is inside.

I've worked with more living composers than you can shake a stick at. In today's European Contemporary Music Scene, a handful of lucky composers are the stars, not the ensemble or orchestral musicians who play their music. These chosen few (composers) are promoted by organizers of festivals and the big publishing companies (who act as their agents as well). If you have a performance scheduled and receive a dud or embarrassing piece from one of them, or a piece that comes too late and is impossible to play: tough luck. It is your job to get it done and make it sound good. Cancelling a piece is politically incorrect, or would cause a scandal. The programs have been printed. The VIPs have been invited. The deals have been made. Money has changed hands. You are the sissy if you complain or can't pull it off. Besides, you have a family to feed, and can't afford to forgo your share of the money (minuscule as it may be).

A question was posed recently on the Flute List: does one have a moral obligation to fulfill a composer's intentions? I'd like to turn it around. Does a composer have similar moral obligations? Heck, does he even have a professional obligation when it comes to fulfilling a commission? It would seem not. More often than not, we find ourselves in a situation where a quality rendering of the premiere piece is severely compromised: too late, not for the instrumentation specified, unreadable manuscript, or unexplained, unclear notation. [I'm not talking about student workshops, I'm talking about well known composers who (even sadder) have teaching positions and are influencing the young generation.] Do we still pay the commission fee under such circumstances? Yes. We're nice, we're professionals, we're capable. We're pioneers, we can take anything anyone throws at us. Ahem.

Still, I'm a big fan of composers, even tardy ones. I support contemporary music and all its endeavours: big, small, loud, quiet, beautiful, ugly, complex, minimalistic. For all my b--ing I am happy to be doing what I am. So now I will speak of me/us/performers and our obligations, moral or otherwise to the composer's intentions.

I'll confine myself to 20th century and later composers - earlier music is another whole can of worms. I'll be honest. There are a few composers whom I dread to play. I see them coming up on a program and think: "well, I'll just go get my strait-jacket." These are the ones that require slavish following of their notation, no deviations allowed. Dang. I got into contemporary music because I consider myself a bit of a deviant. If I wanted to slavishly follow someone I could make a heck of a lot more money in an orchestra somewhere. [OK, I know it's not that bad in most orchestras! But you have to be darned lucky.]

Here's an example, though, of where this somewhat adolescent attitude of mine proved to be misplaced. I used to consider Karlheinz Stockhausen one of these dreaded composers. Working with him closely on the premiere of his Rotary Quintet gave me another perspective.

For the premiere of this work he wanted to underscore the difference between male and female (This quintet is part of his Licht cycle). So he asked us to reflect this gender difference in our concert-wear. With some trepidation, and gentle respect, I objected on the grounds that as a musician, I don't consider my gender, and my native English also reflects no differences of gender. To my utter astonishment, he readily conceded, in a very gentlemanly fashion.

Rehearsal, 1997. Left to right: A. Wesly, K. Stockhausen, me,
J. Babinec, P. Veale, N. Janssen (sitting)

Now I am starting preparations for the flute solo Paradies from Klang, which we plan to premiere in its (all 21 hours) entirety. This has me looking back on those days 12 years ago. Stockhausen is no longer around to gently concede to my cultural baggage, so I will not have the chance to thwart his intentions in person, but would I want to? It would just seem disrespectful at this point. Besides, I look back on my objections of 12 years ago and find them a bit silly. Americans are so gung-ho gender blind, but I don't think females do any better there than in Europe. In Europe it feels more realistic: nobody tries to pretend that men and women are alike.

My point is: I'd think twice now before trying to turn a composer's intention around. My objections may be parochial and egocentric, and have nothing to do with the real quality of the music. The composer's intentions might also be parochial and egocentric, but, well, it's their piece. If I want to express something else, I'll write my own piece.

Notes from Patricia Morris, Oxford '06

A few posts back, I suggested the guideline "the ears are more intelligent than the lips". Now I'm reading my masterclass notes from Patricia Morris (Oxford, 2006). I noticed one of her points: "Your lips learn from your ears". Exactly! She put it more succinctly.

Her class on piccolo playing was full of these great ideas. Her experience with Feldenkreis made things all the more intereting. The piccolo can be hard on the body!

• In general, try placing the piccolo higher on the lower lip than the flute, and keep it turned out.
  
• Tensing your shoulders is like jumping in water and hoping you'll swim! If you untense your shoulders, you will improve without having practiced.
  
• The key to playing piccolo in the top register: increase the air speed without blowing more. You can keep the air speed fast by: 1) making the embouchure hole smaller and 2)putting more pressure behind the embouchure.
• You don't need to practice hours and hours on the piccolo. Thoughtful, sensible transferrence of flute technique to piccolo every day regularly instead.
• Ascending crescendos: build sound up at bottom, then let it alone. High notes are naturally loud.
• For low notes, you need to be able to lift the top of the lip. It helps to use the inside of the top lip, instead of having the top lip always rammed down. Don't let bottom lip drop. To apply this to the low register: think of starting low notes from lifted upper lip.
  
• Practice Moyse Tone Development through Interpretation on the piccolo.

Her recommendations about taking the repeats in the Vivaldi Concerto at auditions:
You may ask if they want the repeats. If you are shy about asking, repeat the 1st section, then immediately play the ornamented version of the 2nd half.


I wish I could attend more of her classes! Years ago I bought her Piccolo Practice Book, but gave it away. Pretty silly, but I hope whoever has it is getting a lot of use.

Peter-Lukas Graf on Articulation

A few days ago I received my quarterly publication from the German Flute Society that featured a tribute to Peter-Lukas Graf, on the occasion of his 80th birthday.

I thought I would use this occasion as well. Last May I attended his masterclass at the Conservatory in Amsterdam. What he had to say, especially about articulation, bears repeating. I find myself using these ideas with my students all the time.

Here goes:
Articulation is a matter of embouchure and air = quality of sound. During articulated passages, keep the tongue as if saying the "y" in "year". The tongue is always piano.

There are 4 kinds of articulation:

1. Portato. Sustained articulation, using only enough of the tongue in order to repeat the note. There is a tiny little diminuendo at the end of each note.
2. Detache. Here there is also a little diminuendo at the end of each note, and a little interruption between each note.
3. Staccato. A short note with a big interruption. Personally, I like to keep the idea of the diminuendo - even if it is a nano second. That way, it gives each note a kind of "lift".
4. Marcato/Martellato. Strong accent. The accent can't be done with the tongue (tongue must always be piano!), it must come from the air. You can practice it without the tongue by saying "ha-ha-ha-", moving the abdominal muscles. This articulation can't be done very fast.

I love the idea of staccato as something that you can practice in slow motion (i.e. detache and portato are slowed down staccati!)

There is also the Langue Sorte as Moyse describes in de la Sonorite - this is used for special notes and is also not a quick-type of articulation.

In Graf's Check-Up; 20 Basic Studies for Flutists you can find articulation exercises in ex. no. 15.

Are we confused now?

Here is a long, rambling flute entry based on last week's teaching: helping "older" students who still have basic problems. Because we're talking about professional training, "older" means mid-twenties - usually - but there are notable exceptions. However, by age 21-22, most young flutists have done their 4-year degree and are looking for a Masters or Artist Diploma program.

I remember reading Trevor Wye's take on entrance auditions. Many aspirants are weeded out: "too many problems". I can understand that totally. Not that teachers are lazy, exactly.... It's just that time (and a short time - graduate programs are normally 2 years only) will be spent fixing (rather than developing, which is what teachers love to do) stuff before the music can be addressed. Sure, you can nurture the musician in parallel, all technical problems can be musically addressed, but, ...but..., still, it's just easier, and a hell of a lot more fun, to take someone who has already got the "flute"stuff (embouchure, fingers, articulation, breathing) figured out.

So how many times have I had a student in front of me, coming to me at the last minute for tomorrow's audition/competition, but with a lifetime of either bad habits, or a baggage of confusion? Mostly it's the latter. I am usually blessed with intelligent and diligent students. But whether their intelligence is a blessing, well, it's a two-sided coin. They've taken lots of lessons, looked for answers from many teachers, read a lot, looked in front of a mirror a lot, listened to many recordings and youtube vids. Hence the confusion.

Here are some examples: I'll focus on the basic problem of embouchure/sound production
"I was practicing fine, but then I looked in the mirror and noticed my embouchure was crooked"
"People tell me I'm not flexible enough - I have to do (fill in the blank) with the corners of my mouth, or (fill in the blank) with my jaw"
And the list goes on . "People have told" the poor student so many things, what can come out of it?
Well for students of the age group I'm talking about, who have played for 10-15 years already - I've devised some guidelines for embouchure/sound production:

• Your ears are more intelligent than your eyes. Use the mirror only to make sure the hole in your lips is lined up with the hole of the flute. All else is vanity.
• Barring a serious medical problem, there is no such thing as an inflexible lip. If your lips were inflexible, you couldn't talk! Again, your ears are more intelligent than your eyes. Give the center of the lips room to manoeuvre (Spielraum - great, succinct word in German!).
• What you do with the corners of your lips is sausage (another great saying in German - meaning: it just doesn't matter). I asked William Bennett about this when I was about 15 years old and obsessed with the corner question. He put it in plain English: it doesn't matter a damn what the corners do as long as the center can do its job!

You may have guessed by now that I know from where I speak, first hand. Yes, I have been down this path. I had the advantage though of graduating university early, at age 20. I had serious playing problems. It took 2 years to get shaped up, and then I was able to start a Masters program at the "normal" age of 22.

Why was I such a mess at age 20? Well, with all due respect for my then teacher in Pittsburgh, Mr. Goldberg, the one thing I never developed was the trust of, or reliance on, my own ears. We always started with long tones. I tried to produce my sound according to what he said and what I heard him do. Since what I did was always wrong, I developed a mistrust of my ears and relied only on what he told me, which was usually that it sounded bad. By the time I finished my 3 years with him, I couldn't produce a reliable sound below low G.

I can't put all the blame on him, though. What 19-20 year-old girl has the presence of mind to question someone whom the local newspaper critics say "plays like a God"? And someone who was "sans doubt" Moyse's successor? This is why I encourage my students to give feedback. And you as a teacher have to ask hard questions like, did this exercise not work because you didn't practice it, didn't understand it, or because it just didn't help you? Otherwise, everything is a waste of time.

I want to end on a positive note about Mr. Goldberg though, since I don't consider my time with him wasted. He did his duty, I came out with a technical solidity and knowledge of the French repertoire and style.

When Inspiration Knocks

I had this conversation with a student of mine who just graduated. It's a tough situation for her: suddenly no stimulus of fellow students, no schedule to follow, lack of money, and pressure of entrance auditions for the next degree. As a foreigner, she has no support system and must provide her own stability and motivation. The result of this is mild depression and reculsiveness. So my pep talk to her included the phrase:"Inspiration doesn't come knocking at the door, you have to get out and find it"!

I don't know to what extent this is true. And I don't think it helped, but we'll see how she does this month with the auditions.

It is however good that I remember these words for myself. As I mentioned in my last post, my husband needed to kick me out the door to attend a concert of "Plush Music Festival" at the Loft. I've been house bound except for the necessary teaching, meetings etc. Missing many good concerts. It was time for some inspiration and I found it! Last night's concert opened with Simon Nabatov (piano) playing Herbie Nichols. Boy does he rock! And I am sad I don't play a harmony instrument - what lushness.... And power - the sheer volume of it, but never harsh or grating. On the flip side, the second set featured Hayden Chisholm and his quartet playing original works. I've never heard a sax player play so sustainedly quiet. What subtlety and color!

When you leave a concert thinking: "oh dear, I've got a lot to learn", I think you can say it was worthwhile.

Too Many Hats

This image was taken during a rehearsal of my "Pan" Project. What a trip that was! I was wearing the hat of soloist, arranger and organizer all at once! In the end, I was quite happy with the arrangements I did of Debussy's Bilitis for 2 flutes and piano, and several movements of Bach's secular cantata "Der Streit zwichen Phoebus und Pan" BWV 201 that I arranged for flute, alto flute, oboe/oboe d'amore, cello and cembalo.

I was thinking about this project recently because of the many non-playing projects I am involved in now, and the different hats I have to wear. February was supposed to be a slow month - no actual concerts or tours. But it is full of rehearsals, teaching, meetings, and proposals, proposals, proposals! And all that in German too, so everything takes longer and every written document I feel obliged to send to a proof-reader. So I feel a bit like a snake, hidden under a rock, waiting to spring. It seems as though it is lying inert and inactive, but that is only the surface. (It fits my Chinese astological sign, this image...) I've been terribly reclusive, not venturing out at all some days. Very bad, I know! But tomorrow my husband is tossing me out the door to a concert at the Loft, where a friend of ours is playing. Will report on that to be sure.

The most pressing thing on my plate is to organize a mini-tour for my duo partner who is coming in June from St. Petersburg. We've already got a concert at the Loft, and lots of leads for other venues. So it looks promising!

Recording session 25 Dec

I like this blog venue, I can publish those funny pictures that are kinda cool, but you just don't know where to put them. They're not "official" enough for the website, and certainly don't belong hanging on my wall.

My piano partner Lyosha just sent me the best of our session from 25 Dec. 2008. It turned out to be a really mellow session, almost minimalistic. I was in a strange frame of mind. In the western world, it was Christmas Day. In Russia, which goes by the old calendar, it was just a working day. Not that it makes much difference to me. There are basically no holidays for musicians anyway.

So it was a steeley gray and very cold day in St. Petersburg. We'd just arrived at Babushka and Dedushka's two days ago, with our 4-month-old in tow, and I was still recovering from the trip. One of those "vacations" which is not a vacation. Family trip, plus had a difficult program to learn for a concert on Jan 9th in Cologne so no time to really slack off.
But I always find time to play with Lyosha. He'd just bought his new grand piano, and his new at-home studio was now set up and ready to go. So armed with extra woolen socks, my husband and I set out to the session.

Here's a take from the session, Lyosha titled it "House on the Lake". Quite minimal but it has something, I think:

House on the Lake

Here is a photo of our concert that we played at the GEZ a few days later. Don't have the recording of that yet, am curious! That's Vladimir Shostak on bass and Nikolai Rubanov on bass clarinet.

Stook, stook

Can't resist this one. His lower incisors have been visible as little white dots just below the surface. Today, for the first time, they made a click, click sound when we tapped with a spoon. Ground-breaking (or gum-breaking!). We just love him!

Sexism; what, me, bitter?!

Here I am about 5 months pregnant!

About 20 years ago I ran into a male flute friend of mine who had just finished studying with a majorly famous European teacher (no longer among the living). I don't know what posessed my friend to make the following confidence, but the shadow it cast has been long and tenuous.
He told me that this teacher openly favored his male students, told him that he tries to help them along more than the women in his studio. Needless to say I was pretty shocked.

I am trying to speculate in a kind way as to why this might have been. (And I'm sure this old-school, Old World guy was not alone in his practices.) Maybe he saw the practicality of his investment in male students: they would be bread-winners, the women would get married, live off their husbands and spend their time and energies having babies.


As a student, I had my share of old-school teachers. And looking back, I think I was definitely a victim of this sort of treatment. Honestly, I don't think it was all intentional either. I would like to think that nobody treats anybody this way in order to be mean: it's just programmed behavior of a certain generation and culture. And what 19-year-old female student has the presence of mind to say:"hey, pay attention to me, make your investment in me! In 20 years I will be the bread-winner of my family, supporting my spouse and child on my fluting skills!"
Would they have believed me? Would I have believed me? That's the trouble, I think. I didn't believe in myself then. I think young boys/men are more used to believing in themselves.

But here I am, the man of the house (for now at least), relying heavily on my basic skills, since I have little time to actually practice. Thank goodness for the training I do have, and for those who believed in, or at least did their duty by me.

But I have to ask myself, am I completely gender-blind when it comes to my own students:? a gaggle of beautiful, poised, talented young women, and at the most one or two young men. There, you see, even the language I use: gaggle. It's a collective word, not geared to viewing the individual.

We all need a kick in the butt sometimes.

Real-Life Professional

It's the first day of a project and you have that tell-tale itchyness in you chest: you know for sure that some damned flu bug has found a temporary home in your warm, moist bronchial passages, just the very ones you rely on to play the flute. My body temp. went down to below 35 C that night and I called in sick the next day with a fever of 38 C. But then the dilema: do you find a replacement for the gig NOW, or do you take the positive attitude "I'll be better for a day of rest". Stupid me, I'm always the optimist. After the free day, still ill , too late to find a replacement and a concert on the morrow, I just had to do it no matter what. And relatively drug free since I am still breast feeding.

So Saturday morning, still feverish, I boarded the train for Berlin. Just a dress rehearsal, concert, and night train home. Do-able. Even with a coughing fit that delayed the second half of the concert.

But my sorry story is not the highlight of this memorable evening of Berlin's Ultraschall Festival. The night before the concert, our wonderful soloist of the evening, soprano R. Hardy stepped out of the airport in Berlin and broke her leg in two places below the knee. She came to dress rehearsal, casted up and sitting in a wheelchair, ready to throw in the towel. Or not quite just yet.... it actually went well! There aren't many singers who could manage K. Ospald's "und es regnet" even with their legs in one piece! But she is amazing. So we decided to go ahead with the piece - we even discussed and arranged that our conductor would wheel her out on stage and how we would all "bow".

After much ado - we are more than a little nervous and tossing around the phrase "Break a leg" - the big moment arrives. The lights dim, the festival director himself goes on stage to explain the accident, we enter and await the conductor and soloist. Thunderous applause as she is wheeled carefully in, right leg immobilized, sticking out straight in front. The conductor manages to park her, but while looking for the brake lever, accidently loosens the lever that held her right leg up. The leg takes a dive, we all let out a gasp***. But it seems no harm done - Ms. Hardy even made the joke "I wanted to write on the bottom of my foot (which the audience could see, as her right leg was extended pointing at them) "YES WE CAN" " The audience loved it.

Afterwards, we asked if it had hurt, when the lever was released and her leg fell down. She just replied "Oh never mind".

I could only gape in wonder.

The Value of Time

I'd like to keep a running blog, something I can keep coming back to, on just how long it takes to do stuff. Especially practice things. We are all told - do your Moyse long tones! do your scales! etc. However, I notice that with my students and myself, under the gun and with a stack of notes to learn, basics fall way by the wayside. "I have so many notes to learn I just don't have time for the basics!!"

Well, here is a starter:
breathing exercise = 2 min.
finger tai-chi exercise 2 min.
a movement from a Bach or Telemann Sonata (an everyday absolute for me!) = under 5 min.
Moyse "pour les tons graves" = 11 min.
my scale exercises = ca. 4 min.
my harmonic trill exercise = 3 min

I'll get back to this as time goes on!

Corners of the Mind

I wonder what paths my head would take if it were not filled with juggling three languages, all the music that is going through it and all the "normal" things that go with working, playing and caring for a baby. When I was 11 I had my IQ tested, and my guess would be I'm a lot dumber now, in spite of all I know. What happened? Have I been a victim of dumbing-down?

There is the theory of "Mommy Brain", which women are prone to it seems. It's the ability to multitask on a huge level: have a pot on the stove and answer the phone while changing the diapers with your hair in curlers and a wrinkle-reducing masque on your face for tonight's romantic evening - you get the idea. I'm not that good at multitasking and hate being interrupted while practicing (or blogging). So why, when I try to read anything academic or that requires concentration, I find myself shaking my head and asking: is this even English? How come I don't understand a thing?

I have been wondering what to do with our son - he will be raised tri-lingually. All the advice points to keeping the paths straight: one parent adheres to one language, the other parent to the other language, no seeping allowed. Then the third language comes "on the street" or in school. Any advice?

Also, we have been wondering about Waldorf education, starting with kindergarten. The fact that they don't do reading or math until age 7 is OK with me. If he is like either of his parents, he will learn by himself by about age 3. We also have tons of books at home so he will be in no way deprived.

Thoughts on Prokofiev Flute Sonata

Several times I've been asked by students "so how do I play Russian music?"
This is always within the context of the Prokofiev Sonata. The history of this piece is quite well known now, especially since Patricia Harper's article (DFG 4/2008) has been published in the US and Germany (and elsewhere, for all I know). I had learned this history while teaching a private masterclass to students from Moscow. However, Ms. Harper brought some interesting facts to light which I did not know, and which vindicate a suspicion I've always had about Prokofiev's music, and particularly about the flute sonata.

I've always been suspicious about a heavy, brutal, rough, even crass interpretation of this piece. Some flutists, even famous ones perform it this way: overblowing the low register, ignoring the refinements of articulation, heavily accenting where no accents are written. Why? I guess they think it's more authentic. After all - it is Russian Music - whatever that means. Gypsy influences? Peasants stomping heavily in their rough white shirts, kicking up their heels in a macho display? Stereotypical BS, if you ask me. The piece - the music - just doesn't seem to warrant it. Think about the Russian players of the time, especially the ones Prokofiev admired, like David Oistrakh (yes, I know the Flute Sonata was not written for him!). Oistrakh played with passion and verve, but I suspect the guy did not have a crass bone in his body. Full blooded and full bodied, but never out of control. Why should we not play the Flute Sonata with the finesse of the great players of Prokofiev's day?

Today we seek "authenticity"; we ask ourselves what was the flute sound he had in mind? Who were the flutists of his day? It turns out, as I learned from Ms. Harper's article, that the flutist that most impressed him was Georges Barrere! The Oistrakh of flutists! And not a Russian, but a Frenchman exported to America.

I don't have a clear point in this post, I realize. Maybe only this: we can go overboard with interpretation. Prokofiev was a cosmopolitan figure, and a lover of the Classics. He carefully notated exactly what he wanted and all we have to do is go for it with our minds and hearts open to the music.

Pet Peeves for composers

This is going to be a work in progress.

To all composers - here is one musician's (of the flutist persuasion) list of pet peeves:
There is a compositional tradition which I would like to ask composers to please avoid, especially when writing for wind players. This is using a comma (which looks to a wind player like a breath mark) at the end of a note to indicate that the player should maintain the intensity of the dynamic and end the note abruptly, without tapering:


A wind player's instinct on seeing this mark is to make a quick inhalation - not the effect desired. A preferable solution would be to make a stylistic indication at the beginning of the work, or to indicate the dynamic graphically:

A short list of other pet peeves:

• Using empty note heads to indicate air or aeolian sounds. Please see my tips on this subject.
  
• Bass flute together with bass clarinet. Neither their ranges nor sonorities match. IMO the bass flute is better paired with the A-clarinet. The bass clarinet is a different animal altogether, with a much broader range, more scope for dynamics, than the bass flute. Just because they are both labeled "bass" (incorrectly, as it turns out for the bass flute, but that's another story altogether) doesn't mean they belong together.
  
• piccolo and E-flat clarinet ditto. Cliche. Why bother? Unless you want to sound like a screeching street band. Maurico Kagel was able to get away with it.
  
• Fluttertongue. It's also cliche. Give it a rest please. (And it's not a given that every flutist can do it - Asian flutists have a more difficult time. I myself cannot do the forward version, but have to resort to the Parisian Gargle) And it's often imprecisely notated, esp. when it comes to mixing the flute and voice. When written together, why are they sometimes written differently? If one does a fluttertongue, the other will automatically do it too - it would be nice to have it reflected in the notation.
  
• Extended techniques stacked up on top of one another. This is something some resort to thinking that it will make the sound more interesting and intense. Well, some techniques cancel each other out and just muddy the waters. Better to pick a few that work acoustically well together.
  
• Difficulty for difficulty's sake. OK, Ferneyhough made it part of the esthetic of Cassandra's Dream Song - to make the struggle an intrinsic part of the music. But this is a rare case of it actually working (IMHO), I do love this piece but I haven't come across another that successfully uses this scheme.

Stolen Moments: What Makes a Composition Difficult?

This has got to be the worst time to start something you want to keep up. Blogging, now, with work and a 4 month old baby? Are you nuts? Well, silly question.I figure this stuff is in my head anyway, might as well get it out and get on with my life.

A composer asked me the other day what is it that makes a piece really difficult? Here's what I came up with. Please bear in mind, these are not mistakes or pet peeves. For a list of frequent mistakes, please click here.

• rapid microtonal (or quartertone) passages
  
• anything that requires doing two techniques in different rhythms (i.e. key click and voice in different tempi or polyrthythm)
  
• no place to breathe
  
• extended passages outside the "normal" range of the flute
  

I'm sure I'll add to this list as time goes on. Please note that this is not a list of things to avoid, I list them only to create an awareness of potential difficulty. It's great to work with someone who cares to ask the question! Now for the next step, to list my pet peeves! Hee Hee