Courtesy of Joan.
Click HERE.
Baroque Performance Clinic
Friday, July 25, 2008
Maintenance (or, things change from year to year)
OK, after hearing about a few inconsistencies on the boot camp website based on some comments from the members, I decided to take a look and I was HORRIFIED by what I saw.
So I fixed a few things, removed, I hope, the inconsistencies, updated things such as schedule and format, and now feel as if I'm quite ready . . . for boot camp 2009.
As for 2008, I hope everyone is ready, with workbooks printed, 3-hole punched, and placed in a notebook, ready for the handouts I'll give them during the week, including, but not limited to, a DAILY SCHEDULE of where to start the day, etc.
Still have two days to refine the masterclass matrix. Watch this space for details and see you all on Sunday night at 6:30 PM in Otto Miller Hall Rooms 118 and 119.
So I fixed a few things, removed, I hope, the inconsistencies, updated things such as schedule and format, and now feel as if I'm quite ready . . . for boot camp 2009.
As for 2008, I hope everyone is ready, with workbooks printed, 3-hole punched, and placed in a notebook, ready for the handouts I'll give them during the week, including, but not limited to, a DAILY SCHEDULE of where to start the day, etc.
Still have two days to refine the masterclass matrix. Watch this space for details and see you all on Sunday night at 6:30 PM in Otto Miller Hall Rooms 118 and 119.
Wednesday, July 16, 2008
Gus Denhard on Baroque Continuo Performance
My vision for an excellent continuo accompaniment in baroque music consists of two ideas, one somewhat technical and the other based on instincts developed through experience:
1. The accompanist must complete the composition in a manner that the composer would have recognized as coherent and stylish.
This is the part that can be learned through study to a large extent. In the most blatant example, it means not playing a 1960s-style funk accompaniment to a 17th-century song, unless you are attempting parody! But of course we are looking for a much finer distinction here. Every period, nationality, and composer had a distinctive compositional style, with some elements the same and others differing. Here are ways to hone in on this information, such as:
A. Study the fully composed (non-continuo) repertory of the composer you want to play an accompaniment for. If you are accompanying Bach, study scores and listen to a range of his music, not just the genre you are accompanying.
B. Find a continuo method by the composer if there is one, and by his colleagues. Start with the composer's immediate circle and work out. For example, if you want to play Purcell, read his own ideas first, then those of his teacher, John Blow, then Matthew Locke, a colleague from the previous generation. If you have time, look at the French and Italian sources from his time, but don't start at that end.
C. Use the above information to put together your own approach to accompanying the specific repertory, idiomatic to your instrument. Of course use the harmonic language that the composer used, but also copy the figuration you see in the composed music as it seems to fit your instrument: broken chords, scales, implied counterpoint, etc.
All that for one composer! Most of us fall very short of this kind of preparation. It takes time, patience, and a desire to put the composer and his time ahead of our own musical personality. It means that there is no default continuo style, no whitewash that we can apply to all music and get away with it. It may mean we have a special instrument for Purcell that we do not use for Monteverdi. To the degree we can manage it, the above is the best approach. The limits that it imposes on what and how we play will put us in a better position for the next, and most challenging aspect of good continuo playing:
2. Giving yourself over to the soloist and the musical moment.
When the items noted above in part one are in order, this part comes naturally. Your goal here is simple - to arrive at the best possible performance in collaboration with the soloist. It requires a certain humanity and sympathy to do this well. Every soloist, every moment in rehearsal and performance requires your full attention and participation. In order to do this you need to:
A. Know the vocal text if there is one. Study the language, learn the grammar, so you can get the jokes, irony, pathos that is trying to be communicated. Sing the song yourself as you accompany in practice.
B. If there is no text, try to understand and connect to the instrumental language of the violinist, flutist, etc. Play their part on your instrument while you sing the bass, then sing their part while you play a full accompaniment. THEN add words to their untexted melody, sing and play.
C. Both A and B will connect you to the music, but nothing will substitute for lots of experience accompanying singers and instrumentalists. You'll learn to follow without looking, to lead and follow at the same time, and most importantly, to relish every musical moment for the soloist, composer, and audience.
Gus Denhard
July 16, 2008
1. The accompanist must complete the composition in a manner that the composer would have recognized as coherent and stylish.
This is the part that can be learned through study to a large extent. In the most blatant example, it means not playing a 1960s-style funk accompaniment to a 17th-century song, unless you are attempting parody! But of course we are looking for a much finer distinction here. Every period, nationality, and composer had a distinctive compositional style, with some elements the same and others differing. Here are ways to hone in on this information, such as:
A. Study the fully composed (non-continuo) repertory of the composer you want to play an accompaniment for. If you are accompanying Bach, study scores and listen to a range of his music, not just the genre you are accompanying.
B. Find a continuo method by the composer if there is one, and by his colleagues. Start with the composer's immediate circle and work out. For example, if you want to play Purcell, read his own ideas first, then those of his teacher, John Blow, then Matthew Locke, a colleague from the previous generation. If you have time, look at the French and Italian sources from his time, but don't start at that end.
C. Use the above information to put together your own approach to accompanying the specific repertory, idiomatic to your instrument. Of course use the harmonic language that the composer used, but also copy the figuration you see in the composed music as it seems to fit your instrument: broken chords, scales, implied counterpoint, etc.
All that for one composer! Most of us fall very short of this kind of preparation. It takes time, patience, and a desire to put the composer and his time ahead of our own musical personality. It means that there is no default continuo style, no whitewash that we can apply to all music and get away with it. It may mean we have a special instrument for Purcell that we do not use for Monteverdi. To the degree we can manage it, the above is the best approach. The limits that it imposes on what and how we play will put us in a better position for the next, and most challenging aspect of good continuo playing:
2. Giving yourself over to the soloist and the musical moment.
When the items noted above in part one are in order, this part comes naturally. Your goal here is simple - to arrive at the best possible performance in collaboration with the soloist. It requires a certain humanity and sympathy to do this well. Every soloist, every moment in rehearsal and performance requires your full attention and participation. In order to do this you need to:
A. Know the vocal text if there is one. Study the language, learn the grammar, so you can get the jokes, irony, pathos that is trying to be communicated. Sing the song yourself as you accompany in practice.
B. If there is no text, try to understand and connect to the instrumental language of the violinist, flutist, etc. Play their part on your instrument while you sing the bass, then sing their part while you play a full accompaniment. THEN add words to their untexted melody, sing and play.
C. Both A and B will connect you to the music, but nothing will substitute for lots of experience accompanying singers and instrumentalists. You'll learn to follow without looking, to lead and follow at the same time, and most importantly, to relish every musical moment for the soloist, composer, and audience.
Gus Denhard
July 16, 2008
Tuesday, July 15, 2008
just for fun
SHAKUHACHI*
(by Jim Mitsui**)
When his son-in law
asked for lessons,
he nodded.
Slipped the bamboo
out of its silk case.
Played one note.
Played it till it hung
clear as the moon.
Handed over the instrument.
Said, "Practice this note.
Come back in a year
for the second."
*as published in Bruchac, J. ed. Breaking Silence, an Anthology of Contemporary Asian American Poets. New York: Greenfield Review Press, 1983.
**scroll down this web page for the author's bio
Shared WITHOUT the author's permission, but..... adequately cited.
(by Jim Mitsui**)
When his son-in law
asked for lessons,
he nodded.
Slipped the bamboo
out of its silk case.
Played one note.
Played it till it hung
clear as the moon.
Handed over the instrument.
Said, "Practice this note.
Come back in a year
for the second."
*as published in Bruchac, J. ed. Breaking Silence, an Anthology of Contemporary Asian American Poets. New York: Greenfield Review Press, 1983.
**scroll down this web page for the author's bio
Shared WITHOUT the author's permission, but..... adequately cited.
Friday, July 11, 2008
Les chants des oiseaux (or, more on the practice of practicing)
Originally posted here. Used, of course, with the author's permission.
The MCAT and I spent much of the recent holiday weekend doing something we had not done for a couple of years: birding. We were in extreme south central Oregon. Here, and here.
The entire experience was beautiful. The weather, the setting, the lack of other humans, and the birds (and the muskrat, the enormous frog, a couple of deer, and the pronghorn antelope). It was worth a few bug bites (we sprayed ourselves, our clothes, our hats, and one determined bug managed to bite me on the rear THROUGH my blue jeans, between the pocket with the handkerchief and the center seam). There were some rock star birds, two of which were new to us. The Long-billed Curlew and the White-faced Ibis. Others we had seen before but never so close were the American Avocet, the Black-necked Stilt, the Black-crowned Night Heron, the American White Pelican, and the Sandhill Crane. In all we saw about 30 different birds.
My experience as a birder tells me that there are three ways to do it. With binoculars, with a spotting scope, and by ear. The spotting scope is a great way to see things in great detail and without your bodily functions making you move (your heatbeat! What did you think I meant?). You can get some incredibly good looks at birds from much farther away than you can with even very powerful binoculars. The downside is that someone (usually the biggest person in the group, usually me) has to carry the scope. [Coyote Banjo is the only person I know who might occasionally relieve me on scope portage. But that's another story for another time. ]
Birding by ear is very challenging but also very rewarding. You either need to go out with someone who knows the bird calls in a specific area, or you buy recordings of them, listen at home, and then take your chances in the wild (or the city park; birds seem to be everywhere). I have put a few discs of bird songs on my MP3 player and used it for confirmation when on a group outing.
What most people do is use binoculars. But unless you live in a place where lots of different birds come into your backyard and are used to people, you won't see much up close.
That brings me to the style of birding that MCAT and I do. We like to stalk the birds in their environment. This takes as much, if not more, patience than learning the birds by ear. You can walk into the territory to a certain point and then the avian alarm system kicks in. At a certain point the sounds change from songs to alarms, and there is no mistaking the difference. How do you bypass this incredible alarm? Patience. We learned, through a field course at the North Cascades Institute, how to work around this warning system, and even use it to your advantage.
The key concept here is PROCESS (yes, we're getting to the process of practicing). First, don't look directly at the birds and smile, even if they are miles high in a tree in plain sight. The second you show teeth, you become a predator who wants to eat them. Smile at those little guys and they become invisible. No, experience shows that if you adapt a meditative style of walking and breathing, and have no sense of urgency about you, you can stand in the middle of a clearing in broad daylight, slow your breathing down, and just stand there for a couple of minutes, and the birds will pick up on your non-predator energy and go about their business, which is all about three things: mating, eating, and when the season is right, feeding their young. We learned the "fox walk," which, when done properly, makes tai chi seem to go at light speed. You can get pretty close to birds perched on a bush not more than 7 feet tall if you are prepared to go at a silent speed of about 10 steps in 3 minutes. The idea is to move so slowly and without making eye contact with the birds, you should be able to move continuously and almost imperceptibly towards the birds. No sudden movements. And when you get to where you want to be, you have to wait and not move for another minute or so before you can put up your field glasses.
MCAT and I love doing it this way. You get really close to the birds, you can really study them, imprint their images on your brain, and just enjoy the world.
The birds at the Summer Lake National Wildlife Refuge were wiley and skittish, especially the ducks. Nothing like getting shot at in the winter to make you wary of all humans who enter your turf. And I had lost my stalking chops. Those darn blackbird sentries! They make a ton of noise and you know they are there but their habitat is such that you have to really know where to look to see them. I had a good look at the aforementioned Ibis, and thought I could improve my view with just two long steps. But I moved too quickly after the first step and the sounds changed from nice blackbird songs to "CHIRP!" and the Ibis family took to the air, along with a few blackbirds. One upside to this was that it roused the Night Heron from its slumber (they typically are active at night, not in broad daylight), and its slow ascent gave us a good look. And, after I accidently vacated the premises, I just stayed in that spot and waited. Sure enough, the Long-billed Curlew couple came by after a short time and went about their business and I got a great look at them.
Patience, and a willingness to keep at something without creating any tension in your body is how to make this a successful venture.
Kind of sounds a lot like practicing a musical instrument. Except the practicing of an instrument does not come with a spotting scope option. You have to get out in the field and stalk those techniques.
[It was incredibly validating to see/hear Dirk Powell discuss the process of practicing in his "Learn to play the Cajun accordion" video that I have. He, too, says that no one wants to practice certain exercises but that you won't get anywhere if you don't. He even acknowledges that it is not fun, but, with less time than you think, you'll be on your way to mastering Jolie Blonde. And it turns out that the 10-button, single row accordion is by far the most difficult instrument I've ever tried to play. Quite humbling, actually.]
How are you going to be able to maintain your chops while playing, for example, BWV 1067? You have to play every note in every movement for 20 minutes. Yes, there are three bars of rest in the Ouverture, but at the proper tempo you may use those not as "rests" but as an opportunity to tank up on air to avoid flute player's hypoxia. Or the infamous BWV 1013, where in the first movement there are NO rests and only 5 notes over two pages that are not 16th-notes ? Or the unaccompanied sonata in a-minor by CPE Bach? You won't be able to execute those huge leaps in the first movement in what, for him, constitutes a melody, if you haven't put the time in (your meditative time) developing your breathing, blowing, and embouchure.
You have to go through the process of practicing, especially your long tones, then your body mechanics, and, as in the martial arts, once you have learned how to stand, breathe, etc., you'll be able to learn the really fun and interesting stuff.
This works for amateurs as well as professionals. The only difference is how much more time the professionals spend on the same few techniques.
I came up with the 20-minute workout for flute and recorder because I know that some of the required practice is less-than-exciting. But you don't need to devote hours out of your day to build your techniques. You just need to stalk them slowly, quietly, and with patience.
It is very relaxing and rewarding. And without any bugs.
The MCAT and I spent much of the recent holiday weekend doing something we had not done for a couple of years: birding. We were in extreme south central Oregon. Here, and here.
The entire experience was beautiful. The weather, the setting, the lack of other humans, and the birds (and the muskrat, the enormous frog, a couple of deer, and the pronghorn antelope). It was worth a few bug bites (we sprayed ourselves, our clothes, our hats, and one determined bug managed to bite me on the rear THROUGH my blue jeans, between the pocket with the handkerchief and the center seam). There were some rock star birds, two of which were new to us. The Long-billed Curlew and the White-faced Ibis. Others we had seen before but never so close were the American Avocet, the Black-necked Stilt, the Black-crowned Night Heron, the American White Pelican, and the Sandhill Crane. In all we saw about 30 different birds.
My experience as a birder tells me that there are three ways to do it. With binoculars, with a spotting scope, and by ear. The spotting scope is a great way to see things in great detail and without your bodily functions making you move (your heatbeat! What did you think I meant?). You can get some incredibly good looks at birds from much farther away than you can with even very powerful binoculars. The downside is that someone (usually the biggest person in the group, usually me) has to carry the scope. [Coyote Banjo is the only person I know who might occasionally relieve me on scope portage. But that's another story for another time. ]
Birding by ear is very challenging but also very rewarding. You either need to go out with someone who knows the bird calls in a specific area, or you buy recordings of them, listen at home, and then take your chances in the wild (or the city park; birds seem to be everywhere). I have put a few discs of bird songs on my MP3 player and used it for confirmation when on a group outing.
What most people do is use binoculars. But unless you live in a place where lots of different birds come into your backyard and are used to people, you won't see much up close.
That brings me to the style of birding that MCAT and I do. We like to stalk the birds in their environment. This takes as much, if not more, patience than learning the birds by ear. You can walk into the territory to a certain point and then the avian alarm system kicks in. At a certain point the sounds change from songs to alarms, and there is no mistaking the difference. How do you bypass this incredible alarm? Patience. We learned, through a field course at the North Cascades Institute, how to work around this warning system, and even use it to your advantage.
The key concept here is PROCESS (yes, we're getting to the process of practicing). First, don't look directly at the birds and smile, even if they are miles high in a tree in plain sight. The second you show teeth, you become a predator who wants to eat them. Smile at those little guys and they become invisible. No, experience shows that if you adapt a meditative style of walking and breathing, and have no sense of urgency about you, you can stand in the middle of a clearing in broad daylight, slow your breathing down, and just stand there for a couple of minutes, and the birds will pick up on your non-predator energy and go about their business, which is all about three things: mating, eating, and when the season is right, feeding their young. We learned the "fox walk," which, when done properly, makes tai chi seem to go at light speed. You can get pretty close to birds perched on a bush not more than 7 feet tall if you are prepared to go at a silent speed of about 10 steps in 3 minutes. The idea is to move so slowly and without making eye contact with the birds, you should be able to move continuously and almost imperceptibly towards the birds. No sudden movements. And when you get to where you want to be, you have to wait and not move for another minute or so before you can put up your field glasses.
MCAT and I love doing it this way. You get really close to the birds, you can really study them, imprint their images on your brain, and just enjoy the world.
The birds at the Summer Lake National Wildlife Refuge were wiley and skittish, especially the ducks. Nothing like getting shot at in the winter to make you wary of all humans who enter your turf. And I had lost my stalking chops. Those darn blackbird sentries! They make a ton of noise and you know they are there but their habitat is such that you have to really know where to look to see them. I had a good look at the aforementioned Ibis, and thought I could improve my view with just two long steps. But I moved too quickly after the first step and the sounds changed from nice blackbird songs to "CHIRP!" and the Ibis family took to the air, along with a few blackbirds. One upside to this was that it roused the Night Heron from its slumber (they typically are active at night, not in broad daylight), and its slow ascent gave us a good look. And, after I accidently vacated the premises, I just stayed in that spot and waited. Sure enough, the Long-billed Curlew couple came by after a short time and went about their business and I got a great look at them.
Patience, and a willingness to keep at something without creating any tension in your body is how to make this a successful venture.
Kind of sounds a lot like practicing a musical instrument. Except the practicing of an instrument does not come with a spotting scope option. You have to get out in the field and stalk those techniques.
[It was incredibly validating to see/hear Dirk Powell discuss the process of practicing in his "Learn to play the Cajun accordion" video that I have. He, too, says that no one wants to practice certain exercises but that you won't get anywhere if you don't. He even acknowledges that it is not fun, but, with less time than you think, you'll be on your way to mastering Jolie Blonde. And it turns out that the 10-button, single row accordion is by far the most difficult instrument I've ever tried to play. Quite humbling, actually.]
How are you going to be able to maintain your chops while playing, for example, BWV 1067? You have to play every note in every movement for 20 minutes. Yes, there are three bars of rest in the Ouverture, but at the proper tempo you may use those not as "rests" but as an opportunity to tank up on air to avoid flute player's hypoxia. Or the infamous BWV 1013, where in the first movement there are NO rests and only 5 notes over two pages that are not 16th-notes ? Or the unaccompanied sonata in a-minor by CPE Bach? You won't be able to execute those huge leaps in the first movement in what, for him, constitutes a melody, if you haven't put the time in (your meditative time) developing your breathing, blowing, and embouchure.
You have to go through the process of practicing, especially your long tones, then your body mechanics, and, as in the martial arts, once you have learned how to stand, breathe, etc., you'll be able to learn the really fun and interesting stuff.
This works for amateurs as well as professionals. The only difference is how much more time the professionals spend on the same few techniques.
I came up with the 20-minute workout for flute and recorder because I know that some of the required practice is less-than-exciting. But you don't need to devote hours out of your day to build your techniques. You just need to stalk them slowly, quietly, and with patience.
It is very relaxing and rewarding. And without any bugs.
Tuesday, July 8, 2008
The 15-Minute Workout (or, the practice regime for violists da gamba)
Posted by David Morris
15-Minute Practice Regime for Violists da Gamba
1) 3 minutes: Long tones (About 5-10 seconds per bow)
Start on a mid-range open strings, and concentrate on consistency of tone.Visit all the strings and notice how they respond differently to bow speedand pressure.
Hint: a slow bow, closer to (rather than farther from) thebridge is the key to a full, concentrated tone.
2) 3 minutes: The same, but with your eyes closed.
Ooh! Do you know when you're playing on which string? Can you take the bow off and put it back onthe string you intend to find?
3) 5 minutes: Scales
Start with C major; choose one flat key (F, Bb, Eb, or Ab) and one sharp key(G, D, A or E) and mix them up from session to session. Always play with slow, full bows, and connect one note to the next (i.e., don't stop between notes-- rather, think of how one note connects to the next).
4) 4 minutes: Patterned "vocal warmups"
Choose a simple pattern and make a sequence out of it which takes you upthrough the octave. Here's an example using "1-2-3-1", in C major:
C-D-E-C;D-E-F-D; E-F-G-E; F-G-A-F; etc.
Remember: Sequences can descend, as well as ascend. Try it going up anddown the scales. The goal is to get to know your way from the top to the bottom of the instrument, in all kinds of different keys. This kind of work really fills in the gaps and prepares you for better consort sight-reading.
15-Minute Practice Regime for Violists da Gamba
1) 3 minutes: Long tones (About 5-10 seconds per bow)
Start on a mid-range open strings, and concentrate on consistency of tone.Visit all the strings and notice how they respond differently to bow speedand pressure.
Hint: a slow bow, closer to (rather than farther from) thebridge is the key to a full, concentrated tone.
2) 3 minutes: The same, but with your eyes closed.
Ooh! Do you know when you're playing on which string? Can you take the bow off and put it back onthe string you intend to find?
3) 5 minutes: Scales
Start with C major; choose one flat key (F, Bb, Eb, or Ab) and one sharp key(G, D, A or E) and mix them up from session to session. Always play with slow, full bows, and connect one note to the next (i.e., don't stop between notes-- rather, think of how one note connects to the next).
4) 4 minutes: Patterned "vocal warmups"
Choose a simple pattern and make a sequence out of it which takes you upthrough the octave. Here's an example using "1-2-3-1", in C major:
C-D-E-C;D-E-F-D; E-F-G-E; F-G-A-F; etc.
Remember: Sequences can descend, as well as ascend. Try it going up anddown the scales. The goal is to get to know your way from the top to the bottom of the instrument, in all kinds of different keys. This kind of work really fills in the gaps and prepares you for better consort sight-reading.
Thursday, July 3, 2008
The Flute Players Rx (or, a spoonful of long tones helps the medicine go down)
Inspiration may come from anywhere, anything, and can strike at anytime. In the Process vs. Goal posting, I vaguely mention some of the processes that one must go through to progress without developing too many bad habits. It also mentions that some (OK, most) of these processes are less than fun. So, after discussing these processes with a couple of students, they inspired me to try to put down a prescription for playing baroque flute. Or at least a loosely connected set of guidelines.
Start with The 20-minute Workout. One of the foundations, or fundamental truths, of playing a woodwind instrument, is the practicing of long tones. That's why it is part of the workout. Of all the things that my teachers asked me to do that I didn't, the long tone practice was the one thing I did do, on clarinet, recorder, and flute. Good tone should never be sacrificed for good technique. Choose substance over style, every time. Styles change. Substance is constant.
In addition to the 20-minute workout, another significant source of information for playing baroque flute is being aware of when you create tension in any part of your body while playing. Use "soft" fingers, "hard" wind, and take things one note at a time. For beginning flute students, you need an awareness for the difference between tonguing and spitting for articulation (former = good, latter = bad).
I now look at flute practice as a combination of martial arts training (which I studied for about 10 years), and basketball practice (3 years of high school, 1 year of college). In both activities, most of my workouts were spent practicing fundamentals: stances, kicking, punching, blocking, avoiding attacks, studying forms, doing them as a group; passing, dribbling, rebounding, defensive stances and postures, group precision drills, and, occasionally, shooting practice.
And just when you thought you would be doing drills forever, my teachers/coaches would introduce situational practice, that is, sparring or scrimmaging.
The purpose of that method, which was very successful, was to get us to stop thinking about the techniques/fundamentals and focus on the situations. But we reached that stage only from slogging it out on the kung fu and basketball equivalents of long tones, trill practice, and using the metronome.
That last clause leads me to . . .
The Metronome Will Set You Free (or, it is hard to get lost when you only have to count to one). Originally posted here. Used and adapted, of course, with the author's permission.
Several of my students record their lessons. They say it helps them immensely in their practice between lessons. I've adapted my teaching style to help them on the post-lesson tape listening. One of the tape recording students, Student XYZ, sat down not long ago and said that after listening to the previous lesson, s/he was reminded of something I said a few years earlier: "Practice with the metronome every time you practice. It will set you free."
This, apparently, was a baffling statement. How could something so rigid make your playing more free and expressive? But somewhere between a few years ago and the recent lesson XYZ had an epiphany and finally understood what it meant.
When I give students the task of using the metronome, it is with specific instructions.
For example, the first thing I ask is that students play everything very slowly. I mean REALLY slow. My metronome only goes as slow as 40. I'd like it to at least go down to 25, if not 20.
We do this because playing things slowly gives you the opportunity to really program your body to put every note in its proper place, and gives one the chance to play a piece without missing any notes. That is the cosmetic reason. There is an internal component. Having a slow beat in your ear will help you internalize a slow beat when we start counting things on the half and, ultimately, the whole note. One or two slow beats per bar.
Counting to one or two gives the player, and the listener, a completely different feel (vibe, aura, whatever you want to call it). It takes a lot of physical tension to consciously count the small notes.
Musical Math example: One half-note at 40 beats per minute (bpm) is two quarter notes at 80 bpm. One half-note at 80 bpm is two quarter notes at 160 bpm. Counting on the quarter-note can lead to some fast and frantic toe-tapping (not allowed in my studio except when playing traditional music). Counting larger values forces you to think of groups of notes, and, ultimately, groups of bars, and not get hung up, bogged down, distracted, and so on, by a bunch of small note values. They are just notes. The big beat helps you turn those small notes into music. [Remember: the notation is not the music.]
Playing on the big beat gives you more freedom and reduces your responsibility to the time keeping. First, it is much more difficult to get lost if you only have to count to one (OK, sometimes two). Second, your responsibility when counting the breve, or the whole note/whole bar, is limited to getting from beat one to beat one on time. What you do in between, even when playing with others, is your own business and responsibility.
[Side bar: My limited experience playing traditional music leads me to believe that while there may be toe tapping, foot stomping, other percussive effects with various body parts, they are not used to keep people in time or to keep from losing their place (I seriously doubt that people who have been playing a particular traditional repertoire for years need help keeping time to the music). To me it seems they are another instrumental part of the music. Toe tapping in classical music, however, is yet another insecure bad habit brought on by a neurotic perception of what passes for a good performance. It helps you set the bar pretty low. "If I just don't get lost, then it will be a good performance." Right. Of course. That's all you need to be a successful classical performer, the ability to not get lost in a concert. Were that the case, I'd have run back to my accounting studies decades ago.]
For me, the goal of counting large note values (big beats) and recalibrating your internal metronome, is to expand it to cover 4, 8, or 16 bars or one large phrase as one enormous beat. At any tempo. That is your freedom.
An excellent example of an 18th century piece where you can use this in both slow and fast tempos (WITH your metronome in practice) is the Sonata in D, Op. 1, by Johann-Joachim Quantz. The first movement, Grave e sostenuto, and the second movement, a Presto in 3/4, are the slowest and fastest tempos from the Baroque. Grave e sostenuto according to Quantz (my memory may be faulty here) comes out to around 38-40 for the eighth-note (that's pretty slow). The Presto comes in at 168 for the quarter-note (that's pretty fast). With both movements, it would be easy to get bogged down on the small note values (38 for the eighth-note? We'll be here for weeks! 168 for the quarter? How will be play those 16th-notes???) and forget about the phrases.
But, if you've practiced counting breves and whole-notes, you'll see the phrases more clearly in the ultra slow movement, and be able to look at a couple of lines of music in the fast movement as one enormous beat. If you think slow, you'll be able to play fast. Don't worry, panic, or fret about this. You won't get it immediately. It is, as are so many of the things I ask of people, another concept that needs to gestate before it may be realized.
To sum up Pineda's Prescribed Method for Learning Baroque Flute (PPMLBF):
Start with The 20-minute Workout. One of the foundations, or fundamental truths, of playing a woodwind instrument, is the practicing of long tones. That's why it is part of the workout. Of all the things that my teachers asked me to do that I didn't, the long tone practice was the one thing I did do, on clarinet, recorder, and flute. Good tone should never be sacrificed for good technique. Choose substance over style, every time. Styles change. Substance is constant.
In addition to the 20-minute workout, another significant source of information for playing baroque flute is being aware of when you create tension in any part of your body while playing. Use "soft" fingers, "hard" wind, and take things one note at a time. For beginning flute students, you need an awareness for the difference between tonguing and spitting for articulation (former = good, latter = bad).
I now look at flute practice as a combination of martial arts training (which I studied for about 10 years), and basketball practice (3 years of high school, 1 year of college). In both activities, most of my workouts were spent practicing fundamentals: stances, kicking, punching, blocking, avoiding attacks, studying forms, doing them as a group; passing, dribbling, rebounding, defensive stances and postures, group precision drills, and, occasionally, shooting practice.
And just when you thought you would be doing drills forever, my teachers/coaches would introduce situational practice, that is, sparring or scrimmaging.
The purpose of that method, which was very successful, was to get us to stop thinking about the techniques/fundamentals and focus on the situations. But we reached that stage only from slogging it out on the kung fu and basketball equivalents of long tones, trill practice, and using the metronome.
That last clause leads me to . . .
The Metronome Will Set You Free (or, it is hard to get lost when you only have to count to one). Originally posted here. Used and adapted, of course, with the author's permission.
Several of my students record their lessons. They say it helps them immensely in their practice between lessons. I've adapted my teaching style to help them on the post-lesson tape listening. One of the tape recording students, Student XYZ, sat down not long ago and said that after listening to the previous lesson, s/he was reminded of something I said a few years earlier: "Practice with the metronome every time you practice. It will set you free."
This, apparently, was a baffling statement. How could something so rigid make your playing more free and expressive? But somewhere between a few years ago and the recent lesson XYZ had an epiphany and finally understood what it meant.
When I give students the task of using the metronome, it is with specific instructions.
For example, the first thing I ask is that students play everything very slowly. I mean REALLY slow. My metronome only goes as slow as 40. I'd like it to at least go down to 25, if not 20.
We do this because playing things slowly gives you the opportunity to really program your body to put every note in its proper place, and gives one the chance to play a piece without missing any notes. That is the cosmetic reason. There is an internal component. Having a slow beat in your ear will help you internalize a slow beat when we start counting things on the half and, ultimately, the whole note. One or two slow beats per bar.
Counting to one or two gives the player, and the listener, a completely different feel (vibe, aura, whatever you want to call it). It takes a lot of physical tension to consciously count the small notes.
Musical Math example: One half-note at 40 beats per minute (bpm) is two quarter notes at 80 bpm. One half-note at 80 bpm is two quarter notes at 160 bpm. Counting on the quarter-note can lead to some fast and frantic toe-tapping (not allowed in my studio except when playing traditional music). Counting larger values forces you to think of groups of notes, and, ultimately, groups of bars, and not get hung up, bogged down, distracted, and so on, by a bunch of small note values. They are just notes. The big beat helps you turn those small notes into music. [Remember: the notation is not the music.]
Playing on the big beat gives you more freedom and reduces your responsibility to the time keeping. First, it is much more difficult to get lost if you only have to count to one (OK, sometimes two). Second, your responsibility when counting the breve, or the whole note/whole bar, is limited to getting from beat one to beat one on time. What you do in between, even when playing with others, is your own business and responsibility.
[Side bar: My limited experience playing traditional music leads me to believe that while there may be toe tapping, foot stomping, other percussive effects with various body parts, they are not used to keep people in time or to keep from losing their place (I seriously doubt that people who have been playing a particular traditional repertoire for years need help keeping time to the music). To me it seems they are another instrumental part of the music. Toe tapping in classical music, however, is yet another insecure bad habit brought on by a neurotic perception of what passes for a good performance. It helps you set the bar pretty low. "If I just don't get lost, then it will be a good performance." Right. Of course. That's all you need to be a successful classical performer, the ability to not get lost in a concert. Were that the case, I'd have run back to my accounting studies decades ago.]
For me, the goal of counting large note values (big beats) and recalibrating your internal metronome, is to expand it to cover 4, 8, or 16 bars or one large phrase as one enormous beat. At any tempo. That is your freedom.
An excellent example of an 18th century piece where you can use this in both slow and fast tempos (WITH your metronome in practice) is the Sonata in D, Op. 1, by Johann-Joachim Quantz. The first movement, Grave e sostenuto, and the second movement, a Presto in 3/4, are the slowest and fastest tempos from the Baroque. Grave e sostenuto according to Quantz (my memory may be faulty here) comes out to around 38-40 for the eighth-note (that's pretty slow). The Presto comes in at 168 for the quarter-note (that's pretty fast). With both movements, it would be easy to get bogged down on the small note values (38 for the eighth-note? We'll be here for weeks! 168 for the quarter? How will be play those 16th-notes???) and forget about the phrases.
But, if you've practiced counting breves and whole-notes, you'll see the phrases more clearly in the ultra slow movement, and be able to look at a couple of lines of music in the fast movement as one enormous beat. If you think slow, you'll be able to play fast. Don't worry, panic, or fret about this. You won't get it immediately. It is, as are so many of the things I ask of people, another concept that needs to gestate before it may be realized.
To sum up Pineda's Prescribed Method for Learning Baroque Flute (PPMLBF):
- Use the 20-minute workout as your base.
- Use the metronome during your 20-minute workout on both the long tones and the music practice (or longer; longer is allowed and actively encouraged).
- Practice in front of a mirror. This will help, especially with the next item:
- Become aware of tension in your body and begin to try to play without creating any tension. Tension in parts of your body not actively touching the flute will create problems for those parts that are in contact.
- Keep your fingers relaxed, not squeezed or stiff, and make a conscious effort to keep them close to the tone holes.
- Use your tongue and not your lips to make articulations (don't spit into the flute).
- Remember: less sound equals more music (that means be sure to articulate very clearly), and while you are working up to tempo, play your pieces one note at a time.
I hope this is helpful.
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