Handel

Composer focus - George Frideric Handel

I imagine most recorder players are familiar with at least some of Handel’s sonatas - which is your favourite? They’re a staple of the recorder’s Baroque repertoire and, while we’re not averse to borrowing music from other places, it’s always a pleasure to return to music which was genuinely written for our instrument, if only because it fits the instrument like a glove.

This week’s blog explores the history of these sonatas, revealing a fascinating tale of underhand publishing practices. We’ll also take a closer look at the individual sonatas and some performances which I hope will inspire and delight you. If you’ve not yet played these delightful pieces maybe this will inspire you to explore further…

Handel’s neat manuscript in his fair copy of the F Major Sonata

Handel wrote his six recorder sonatas around 1712, the period when he moved permanently to London. Autograph manuscripts still exist for all six sonatas (although the C major Sonata manuscript is missing two pages), stored at the Fitzwilliam Museum in Cambridge and the British Museum. The manuscripts for the first four Sonatas (G minor, A minor, C major and F major respectively) are neat and clear. They’re written on Italian paper of the type Handel would probably have bought on his travels in Italy in the early years of the 18th century. The style of script is that used by Handel when writing up fair copies of his works, although not long after this he began to use a copyist to do this on his behalf.

In contrast, the manuscripts of the B flat major and D minor sonatas are much less tidy - evidently working copies from Handel’s compositional process. As you can see in this example from the D minor Sonata, there are definite drawbacks when you have to work in ink rather than pencil…

Corrections in the D Minor Sonata manuscript

The rocky road to publication

The story behind the early publications of Handel’s recorder sonatas is full of subterfuge and industrial espionage.

To the uninformed eye it would be easy to assume the first person to publish Handel’s sonatas was Jeanne Roger, in Amsterdam. But appearances can be misleading….

John Walsh’s fake cover for his first edition, supposedly published by Jeanne Roger.

Around 1730 English publisher, John Walsh (c.1665-1736) acquired a copy of Handel’s sonatas ‘without consent or approbation’ of the composer. He was keen to publish them, but the two men weren’t on good terms at the time. Walsh had a previous arrangement with Jeanne Roger to engrave some of Handel’s harpsichord music on her behalf which she then published with her own title page. This happened around 1719, just three years before Roger died.

Sometime between 1726 and 1732 Walsh went ahead and engraved his own edition of the recorder sonatas, even though he didn’t have Handel’s consent. To overcome this he used the same strategy, creating a title page emulating that of Jeanne Roger. The typesetting within the music itself is clearly that of Walsh’s own engravers, but the earlier arrangement with Roger must have given him the confidence to make this edition with a fake Roger title page. Of course, he would also have known by this stage that Jeanne Roger had died in 1722 so she couldn’t complain even if she wanted to!

Walsh’s second edition

In time relations between Handel and Walsh improved and the Englishman, and in 1732 he was able to publish a new and improved second edition. A lot of the errors Walsh’s engravers introduced to his illegal edition were corrected here, although some of the changes are dubious, contradicting Handel’s own manuscripts.

On the death of John Walsh senior in 1736 his son, also called John, took over the business. His relationship with the composer was less troublesome, and Handel probably realised his music was going to be published by Walsh whether he liked it or not. Editions created by John Walsh junior contain fewer errors, suggesting perhaps Handel was also involved with their creation. In October 1739 he was finally appointed as Handel’s sole publisher for the next fourteen years.

Walsh’s position as Handel’s official publisher was no doubt a positive arrangement for both men, and Handel later dedicated his Op.4 organ concerti to Walsh. The business thrived under his auspices, often selling the work of other publishers and absorbing smaller publishers upon their liquidation. When he died in 1766 he left £40,000 (about £5.5M in today’s money) and the publishing business continued with William Randall at the helm.

I’ve collected the various manuscripts and early editions together so if you’re interested in exploring them further you’ll find them in the Resources section at the end of this blog.

Why no mention of recorder on the title page?

Walsh’s new ‘official’ edition didn’t just contain the recorder sonatas we know today, but included no fewer than twelve ‘Solos for German Flute [what we think of today as flute], a Hoboy [oboe], or Violin, with a Thorough Bass for the harpsichord or bass violin.’ Walsh, was a canny businessman and wanted to sell as many copies as possible, so it made sense to advertise the music as being suitable for several instruments.

The recorder’s popularity in England was waning by this time, so he evidently didn’t feel it worth mentioning the recorder (or flauto as it would have been known in England) on the title page. However, the sonatas intended for our instrument are clearly marked ‘flauto’, even if Walsh wanted his buyers to consider playing them on other instruments too.

By 1734 Walsh was advertising these sonatas as Handel’s Opus 1, although this classification was never used by Handel and never appeared on the title page of any publication. Between 1978 and 1986 Bernd Baselt created a comprehensive catalogue of Handel’s music, listing every known piece in musical categories with HWV numbers. The recorder sonatas’ numbers range from 360 to 377, mixed in among Handel’s solo sonatas for other instruments.

Recorder sonatas as exercises for a royal princess

There’s a theory that Handel may have used some of his recorder sonatas as exercises in basso continuo playing.

Between December 1725 and April 1726 Handel made fair copies of some exercises in figured bass and fugal composition - probably for teaching purposes. It’s thought perhaps they were made for Princess Anne, King George II’s daughter, a pupil of Handel’s who’s known to have been a fine harpsichordist and skilled continuo player. These exercises were made on the same paper as the fair copies of his recorder sonatas, as well as having similarities in calligraphy so maybe he wrote them out at the same time?

At this time the keyboard player would have created their part using the bassline, adding chords as indicated by the figures beneath the music. These numbers are a shorthand to tell the harpsichordist which chords to play above the bassline but it wasn’t uncommon for them to be quite infrequent and imprecise. The bass lines for the four sonatas (those in G minor, A minor, C major and F major) in Handel’s fair copies are unusually well figured (as well as being neatly written) and it’s been suggested they were perhaps used as additional teaching tool for use with the Princess, and maybe other pupils too.

The first page of the G minor sonata, showing the copious amounts of figured bass. Click on this or any of the images to see them enlarged.

Why shouldn’t you use a good tune more than once?

We’re familiar with the concept of recycling to help the planet these days, but Handel was doing this with his music two and half centuries ago. Not content with using a good tune just once, sometimes he’d give a second or even third life to melodic lines! Every one of the recorder sonatas is reused in some way or another. Sometimes Handel just recycles a single line. For instance the bassline of the opening movement of the A minor Sonata is a reuse of the bass from Pur ritorno a rimirarvi, an aria from his 1709 opera Agrippina.

In contrast, the three complete movements of the B flat major Sonata do double time. The opening Allegro is used in 1726 in the Overture to Scipione. Meanwhile, the second movement became the slow movement of an organ concerto in 1735. Finally, the third movement also serves as the third movement of a Violin Concerto in A major in 1712 - around the same time we believe he wrote the recorder sonatas.

Take a listen to this recording of the Overture to Scipione and you’ll hear not just the B flat Sonata, but the second movement of the C major one too!

Let’s now take a look at the six sonatas in turn and I’ll suggest some recordings you might find inspiring and entertaining too.

Sonata in G minor, HWV360

In the first of his recorder sonatas Handel follows the typical Baroque pattern of four movements, alternating slow and fast tempi. The second movement is only marked Andante, but the music is energised from bar five, when the bass sets off in a sequence of semiquaver passages. Handel continues to give the bassline a good workout in the fourth movement, with a moto-perpetuo of running quavers while the recorder parts jogs along in a more relaxed fashion above.

These Sonatas can be accompanied in a variety of ways. The most familiar combination is to have a cello or viola da gamba playing the bassline, with harpsichord completing the harmonies indicated in the figured bass. However, there’s no reason why you can’t use different combinations, as we’ll see in some of the other recordings I’ve chosen. In Pamela Thorby’s performance she’s chosen a simple organ accompaniment, provided by Richard Egarr. I love this low key approach in this particular sonata and it complements the melancholic mood beautifully.

Pamela Thorby (recorder) and Richard Egarr (harpsichord and organ) - Handel Recorder Sonatas Linn Recorders CKD223

Sonata in A minor, HWV362

The bassline always played a crucial role in the Baroque era, setting the music’s rhythmic and harmonic shape. This is certainly true of the A minor Sonata but it also takes an equal melodic role with the recorder. This is especially true in the opening Larghetto, where it creates an athletic yet lulling counterpart to the recorder.

The rhythm in both parts is a curious mix of dotted rhythms (both dotted crotchets and dotted quavers) and triplets. If played exactly as notated the result is very angular and lacks flow, so in practice it’s usually evened out to create a lilting meter which feels more like a 9/8 time signature. The process of playing a different rhythm to that notated can be discombobulating to newcomers. I recall a class of mine at summer school many years ago tying themselves in knots about the exact mathematical length of each note! Handel probably notated the music this way for simplicity, knowing players of the day would understand he meant them to rationalise the rhythms to create a flowing line. Our twenty first century eyes and brains are used to playing precisely what the composer wrote and it can feel strange to veer away from this.

Take a careful listen to Dan Laurin’s beautiful performance and you’ll hear how he makes the dotted quaver rhythms relaxed and triplety, while the dotted crotchets are slightly over-dotted. The result is that everything seamlessly flows along with the triplets.

Dan Laurin (recorder), Hidemi Suzuki (cello), Masaaki Suzuki (harpsichord/organ) - Handel The Recorder Sonatas BIS Records BISCD955

The remainder of the Sonata is just as wonderful. The second movement bounces along for the recorder, while the bassline has a real workout with never ending runs of broken chords. I recall accompanying a pupil for this movement at school many years ago with a piano whose key action was rather heavy and those semiquavers nearly crippled me! Played on a harpsichord though it’s great fun and gives an amazing sense of drive to the music.

Sonata in C major, HWV365

In his third sonata Handel diverges from the familiar three or four movement format, throwing in a fifth for good measure. The opening Larghetto is a glorious melody, accompanied by a walking bass - the perfect opportunity to try out some melodic ornamentation through the musical sequences. Perhaps the most creative take I’ve ever heard on this piece was during a concert at the Northern Recorder Course. Daniel Koschitzki finished his recital with what we thought was a performance of this Larghetto as an encore. Accompanied on the piano, the harmonies gradually became more exotic, and before our ears the music morphed effortlessly into a jazz rendition of Somewhere over the rainbow!

In this recording Stefan Temmingh sticks with Handel’s original harmonies, but creates a wonderfully dramatic performance through his creative ornamentation and by responding flexibility to the dramatic moments in the harmonies.

Stefan Temmingh (recorder) & Wiebke Weidanz (harpsichord) - Handel The Recorder Sonatas Accent ACC24353

The movement that follows is a tremendously exciting conversation between the recorder and bass lines. This Allegro really needs a one in a bar feel to make it swing along and it’s important to look out for the many hemiolas along the way. The fourth movement purports to be a Gavotte, although I suspect most Baroque dancers might find it a little busier than other Gavottes of the period. Maybe this is Handel’s nod to the active theatre scene in 18th century London, as it wasn’t unusual for operatic overtures to include dance movements. The Sonata ends with a bonus fifth movement - another whirling piece in 3/8 which arguably makes more demands of the continuo team than the recorder player!

If you’d like an alternative view of the recorder sonatas, I found this fascinating curiosity while exploring. Tatty Theo has purloined the sonatas (as indeed recorder players are so often used to doing with music for other instruments!) for the cello and, despite the lower pitch I think they translate very well.

The Brook Street Band - Handel Sonatas for Cello Avie AV2118

Sonata in F major, HWV369

The F major Sonata is often the place recorder players begin their journey with Handel. The music may be less technically demanding but there are some beautiful melodic lines and lots of opportunities to explore the possibilities in terms of ornamentation. The opening movement in particular is a wonderful blank canvas for you to experiment with ornamentation - not just cadential trills, but adding melodic shapes too.

Olwen Foulkes’ recording of this Sonata comes from a disc, Directed by Handel, devoted to the music performed in the London theatres where Handel worked. I’ve chosen the joyful Gigue which is yet another piece where Handel chose to recycle a good tune. The opening bars of this movement also appear in a trio sonata for two recorders which you may already have explored when I shared it as a ‘trio minus one’ earlier this year. You can find the music and videos for the Trio Sonata here if you want to try it out for yourself.

Olwen Foulkes (recoder), Nathaniel Mander (harpsichord), Carina Drury (cello), Tabea Debus (bass recorder) & Toby Carr (theorbo) - Directed by Handel Barn Cottage Records

Handel’s theatre work brings us to yet another reuse of the F major sonata - this time as an organ concerto. Handel used several organ concertos as interval music for theatre performances of his oratorios in 1735, and in the Op.4 No.5 Concerto he simply reuses this Sonata wholesale, just adding a short a introduction to each movement.

The Academy of Ancient Music, Richard Egarr (organ & direction) - Handel Organ Concertos Op.4 - Harmonia Mundi HMU807446

Sonata in B flat major, HWV377

Handel’s B flat major Sonata is often known as a ‘Fitzwilliam Sonata’ (along with the D minor) on account of Thurstan Dart’s discovery of the manuscript at the Fitzwilliam Museum in Cambridge in 1948. This is the smallest of Handel’s sonatas, with just three movements, and is one of the works where we get to see his compositional process at work. In the snippet below, taken from the manuscript of the third movement, you can see Handel initially wrote a string of rising arpeggios. But later he returned to the work, crossing out the middle note of each group to simplify it to a crotchet-quaver pattern. I performed this very Sonata last month and I chose to add some arpeggios at this very point as ornamentation. it was only when I began researching this blog post that I realised that I’d unknowingly reinstated Handel’s originally musical idea as my arpeggios were identical to those shown below - what a spooky coincidence!

One of the challenges when performing this particular sonata is getting a good balance between recorder and continuo, especially in the two Allegros. The recorder part is quite low in places, often at moments when the bassline is very active. David Antich overcomes this problem by using lute, cello and organ to play the continuo line. This creates a positively ethereal sound world and the gentler articulation of the organ reveals details which can be lost under the clatter of a harpsichord.

David Antich, Mediterrània Consort - Complete Recorder Sonatas IBS Classical IBS32022

Sonata in D minor, HWV367a

The final recorder sonata is also the longest - weighing in at an impressive seven movements! Two movements really stand out for me, the first being a Vivace in 3/2 time. Handel has bags of fun here, playing with syncopated rhythms in both the recorder and continuo. There are hemiolas galore and a number of phrases where you could also choose to explore the boundaries between the notated 3/2 time signature and bars which look more like 6/4.

Here I feel David Antich perfectly captures the sense of excitement and drive Handel wove into this wonderful music.

In both of Walsh’s editions of Handel’s Sonatas, this particular work appears in B minor for the flute, although the manuscript held at the Fitzwilliam Museum clearly shows Handel also intended it to be played in D minor on the recorder. Erik Bosgraaf takes a hybrid approach on his disc of Handel’s Sonatas by performing the B minor version on a voice flute - a tenor recorder in D. The effect is ravishingly beautiful, with Erik’s golden tone and effortless musicality. Perhaps the most astonishing movement though is the third - a Furioso which lives up to its name with a truly virtuoso performance!

Erik Bosgraaf (recorder), Ensemble Cordavento - Baroque Edition Brilliant Classics 96440

Resources:

When it comes to modern editions of Handel’s Sonatas there are many available, but two stand out for me.

Handel - The Complete Sonatas (Faber)

You really can’t go wrong with the 1979 volume of all six, edited by David Lasocki and Walter Bergmann. The volume contains reams of background information about the music, as well as clearly showing the differences between the various manuscripts and early published editions, allowing you, the performer, to make informed musical decisions.

Handel - Four Sonatas Op.1

A second edition worth looking at is Edgar Hunt’s volume containing the Sonatas in G minor, A minor, C major and F major. Edgar’s first edition of these works was published in 1940, when interest in early music was just beginning to grow. Forty years later he updated the edition, removing most of the editorial suggestions included in 1940 and offering a straightforward, un-distracting continuo realisation by harpsichordist Maria Boxall. The edition also comes with a printed copy of the Walsh edition so you can compare the two.

One curiosity of this edition is Edgar’s approach to the A minor Sonata, where he attempts to clarify the notational issues I talked about earlier. Here he converts the original 3/4 time signature to 9/8, evening out the dotted rhythms and triplets as most performers do in any case. This approach will probably infuriate Baroque notational purists, but some may find this less confusing, and you can always refer back to the facsimile of the Walsh edition to compare with Handel’s original rhythms.

Returning to 18th century sources

If the thought of playing from the music as Handel would have known it appeals to you, there are several options. With the exception of the C major Sonata (which is missing a couple of pages) it’s possible to work from Handel’s own manuscripts as all are available online. I’ve collected all six together into one PDF file which you can download by clicking on the button below.

If Handel’s handwriting is a little too scruffy for you to read, you could try the two 18th century editions I talked about earlier. For someone who’s used to reading 21st century computer typeset music these facsimiles may feel a little alien, but once you tune your eye into the noation they’re remarkably easy to interpret. Both these and Handel’s manuscripts also give you the ability to see what the bassline is doing while you’re playing as both parts appear together on the page. This is immensely helpful as you can instantly see how the two lines interact with each other, rather than playing your line in isolation.

Both 18th century editions can be downloaded via the buttons below. Remember, they also contain sonatas which are suitable for flute, oboe or violin, so there’s no reason why you shouldn’t try these too. To do this you may need to use the tenor recorder instead of the treble and perhaps adjust occasional high notes an octave lower to make them fit comfortably.

Are you lacking a continuo team?

If you want to play these sonatas but don’t have a tame harpsichordist you have several options. As we’ve seen, the bass lines are very much equal partners to the recorder line, so there’s no reason why you shouldn’t get togther with a bass recorder playing friend and try them as duets. There will be places where the bass line travels beyond the bottom note of a bass recorder, but then that problem is easily conquered by transposing the occasional note or phrase an octave higher.

Another option is to use a backing track to play along with, just as you might with my consort music downloads. I’ve found two options for this, although there may be others out there,. One of these is a free resource, while the other costs only a modest amount.

Continuo Lines - This is a project set up by recorder player Tabea Debus and harpsichordist Benedict Williams to create backing tracks for many pieces of recorder music. The library is still growing but the F major Handel Sonata is already available. Each movement is available at a choice of three different tempi and four different pitches (A392, 415, 440 and 466) which gives lots of flexibility for different ability levels and types of instrument. The site also includes pieces by Barsanti, Corelli, Telemann and others, with more to come in the future. The downloads are free, but if you find them useful there is opportunity to make a contribution to help fund future developments. You can find Continuo Lines by clicking here.

Cat on the Keys - If you’re looking for backings tracks, editions of early music or practical courses on ornamentation and more this is a great resource. Among the backing tracks I found all six of Handel’s Recorder Sonatas, priced at a modest £4 per sonata. As with Continuo Lines, each movement is available with backing tracks at a variety of speeds and pitches and they are a great way to experience playing these works with harpsichord continuo. I bought and tried the D minor Sonata but there are dozens of recorder sonatas by other composers too, including Telemann, Mancini, Bach and many more. Clicking this link will take you direct to the Handel Sonatas, but I recommend exploring the site further as it’s a real treasure trove!

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If you’re already a fan of Handel’s Recorder Sonatas I hope today’s blog has inspired you to explore them further, but if you’re new to them I hope this may have opened your eyes to their possibilities. I’d love to know which Sonata is your favourite. Mine changes from day to day, but at this moment I think it’s the beautiful A minor sonata, with its meandering conversation between recorder and bass in the opening movement. Why not drop a comment below with your favourite sonata and if there are recordings you enjoy that I haven’t mentioned why not tell us about them too?

Pitch Perfect - the journey to musical consensus

Pitch can be a nebulous concept, even in music, where you might imagine it would need the strongest of foundations. Today we take it for granted that the A an oboist plays for an orchestra to tune up is a definitive, fixed pitch, but it wasn’t always so. And where does that leave us as recorder players, when we habitually play music from many centuries? Today I’m going to talk about the concept of pitch and how it relates to your musical work in a practical way.

A brief history of pitch

Let’s begin with the basics – how pitch is measured. With an oscilloscope it’s easy to see that sound (musical or otherwise) is made up of different shaped waves. The shape of the sound waves from a recorder are fairly smooth and simple, thanks to our instrument’s pure tone. In comparison, an instrument like the clarinet produces a much more jagged shape when played into an oscilloscope. The speed of these waves is measured in Hertz (Hz), with the number referring to the number of times the waves occur per second. As pitch rises, the number of vibrations per second increases. For instance, the lowest note played by a contrabassoon (a B flat three octaves and one note below middle C) sounds at just 29Hz, while the A given by an orchestral oboist is 440Hz. When it comes to defining the pitch of any instrument it’s the frequency of the A above middle C (the one the oboist gives) which is used – for instance A440 has been the standard pitch for many decades.

Standardisation of pitch

While we’re used to the idea of a universal pitch today, this is a relatively recent concept. Centuries ago, when musicians didn’t travel very far, the ‘standard’ pitch in any village or town tended to be that played by the church organ. Such instruments cannot be easily retuned, so any other musician just had to conform to whatever pitch it was tuned to!

Six months after the death of King Henry VIII an inventory was made of his possessions, revealing that he owned no fewer than 76 recorders. He was reputedly an able musician but even Henry VIII couldn’t play more than one recorder at a time. But having a set of instruments made at the same pitch meant he could play with musicians who lived elsewhere. There was no guarantee the instruments of a musician living even just a few miles from the Royal palace would be at the same pitch, so having a set of matching recorders would solve this problem.

As musicians travelled more, the need for a standardised pitch became more urgent, although it took several centuries before pitch became consistent around the globe. I always compare this process to the introduction of railway time. In the 18th century each town would set its time according to the local sundial - this meant that time varied according to the location within the country. With the advent of long distance travel it became necessary to standardise time, so railway timetables could be devised and run accurately. Musical pitch had to ultimately follow a similar process so musicians from different places could play together at the same pitch.

Geographical variations

In 1711 the tuning fork was invented by trumpeter John Shore. Many historic tuning forks still remain today and these pieces of metal give us a fascinating glimpse into geographical variations of pitch.

In 1880 Alexander Ellis wrote an essay about the history of musical pitch for the Society of Arts in London. In it he talks about dozens of tuning forks from all over the world, from one made by Shore in 1715 pitched at A419.9  to another owned by Steinway and Sons in New York from 1879 which reached the dizzying heights of A457.2. Added to this there were different trends in pitch within individual countries - for instance the fashion in Rome was for a lower pitch, while musicians in Venice preferred a higher pitch. If you’re interested in the historic tuning forks still in existence today I can recommend this article.

Pitch inflation

One thing is clear from this data – the overall trajectory for pitch was an upwards one. In the Baroque period pitch was often limited by string instruments because gut strings on violins, violas and cellos could only be tensioned so far before they snapped. More modern technologies (metal strings on violins and metal frames on pianos for instance) allowed greater tension and therefore higher pitches. Of course, singers were rarely in favour of this trend as the rise in pitch made their high notes harder to sing!

The problem of pitch inflation wasn’t a new one though. It’s now known that pitch was somewhat higher in the Renaissance (as high as A466). In his publication, Syntagma musicum Michael Praetorius reported at the start of the 17th century that pitch levels had become so high that singers were experiencing severe throat strain and lutenists and viol players were complaining of snapped strings.

By the time we reach the Baroque period, pitch had dropped again, tending to be in the region of A420, rising to the 430s and higher during the 19th century.

Finding a ‘standard’ pitch

It wasn’t until the 19th century that a concerted effort was made to bring some consistency in pitch. In 1859 the French government passed a law setting pitch at A435 and this became a popular standard beyond France too. It was confirmed as a standard throughout Italy, Austria, Hungary, Russia, Prussia, Saxony, Sweden and Württemberg during a conference in Vienna in 1885. However, it was not until the Treaty of Versailles in 1919, that it was adopted even more widely. It’s curious that a treaty intended to formally mark the end of World War I should cover the subject of musical pitch, but, sure enough, Section 2, Article 282 lists the agreement from Vienna in 1885 as one of the items binding Germany and the Allied Powers.

Of course this wasn’t the end of the matter… By 1926 A440 has been informally adopted by the music industry and the subject was once again discussed at a conference under the auspices of the International Standards Association (held at the BBC’s Broadcasting House) in 1939. Finally, in 1955, A440 was confirmed by the International Organisation for Standardisation as an official standard (known to this day as ISO 16), with further confirmation in 1973 and 2017.

Pitch standards today

You thought you’d heard the last of pitch inflation, hadn’t you? Well, think again!

Today many symphony orchestras play at a slightly higher pitch – A 442. This fractionally higher pitch adds a little more brightness to the sound, although I suspect many audience members would find it difficult to hear the exact difference in pitch if asked to compare notes. Ultimately of course, the overall pitch of an orchestra still depends on the A given by the oboist.

Where does this leave us as recorder players?

For orchestral musicians the concept of playing at significantly different pitches is an alien one – A440 (or 442) is a one size fits all pitch. But as recorder players we regularly explore repertoire from a vast array of musical periods. Does this mean we need recorders at different pitches? Yes…. and no!

Pitch standards for early music

With the advent of the Early Music revival in the 1960s there was a greater emphasis on playing music in a historically informed way; getting as close as possible to what composers might have expected to hear in their lifetime. With massed produced instruments there needed to be an agreed pitch so a number of different pitches became the norm:

  • A415 – so called ‘Baroque pitch’. This is the pitch at which most professional Baroque ensembles play today. This particular pitch is a convenient one as it’s a whole semitone below A440, about which I’ll talk more in a moment.

  • A392 – French pitch. There was a fashion in France for a pitch which was lower still in the 18th century, so sometimes performers of this music will adopt this pitch – about a tone lower than A440.

  • A430 – Classical pitch – used in historically informed performances to play repertoire from the period associated with Mozart and Beethoven – albeit not a common habitat for recorder players.

  • A466 – Renaissance pitch - sometimes offered by makers of consorts of Renaissance recorders to reflect the higher pitch used during that period.

Of course, most recorder players stick with A440. After all, if you have an international standard it makes sense to use it as that allows you to play was lots of different people. More recorders (like orchestral instruments) are being made to a standard of A442 today. Fortunately this isn’t too big a problem as the difference of 2Hz is small. Those with A442 instruments can easily pull out their recorder’s headjoint a little to play in tune with those at A440.

A415 - a pitch of convenience

I mentioned earlier that A415 was a pitch chosen largely because it’s a semitone lower than concert pitch. This is handy because it allows for the use of instruments capable of playing at more than one pitch. Harpsichords are often made with a built in transposing mechanism, where a block is pulled out at one end of the keys. This allows the entire keyboard mechanism to be slid up or down so the plectra connect one string higher or lower. This conveniently shifts the pitch up or down a semitone, although this only works when the instrument is tuned to equal temperament, where all the semitones are equal in size. This isn’t the case for other historical tuning temperaments, but that’s a subject to be explored another day! Recorders can also be made to play at more than one pitch, by the use of a corps de rechange. More about this useful device shortly…

Why try Baroque pitch?

If you’ve never explored recorders at Baroque pitch (A415) you may be wondering what the practical difference is. The simple answer, as we’ve already learnt, is a semitone. I’ve heard it argued that you could achieve the same effect by just transposing the music a semitone lower – assuming this didn’t result in notes which then extend below the bottom note of your instrument. On a theoretical basis this is correct, but in practice you wouldn’t achieve the same tonal effect.

To play the Handel Sonata shown below a semitone lower would give you a key signature of four sharps – a much less comfortable proposition than Handel’s F major. So many sharps (plus additional ones as the music modulates into other keys) result in lots of cross or forked fingerings on the recorder. Because of the way the instrument works these are intrinsically less stable in tone – for instance, compare low G and G sharp on your treble recorder. Tuning also becomes more of a challenge and the result will sound rather different. Aside from any tonal differences, there’s also the simple fact that the finger patterns for such extreme keys are simply harder to play, especially at speed. A recorder made to play at A415 is a much better solution!

Here are the first few bars of Handel’s Sonata in F and a recording of me playing them on my A440 treble.

The music sounds perfectly lovely, but now take a listen to the same snippet played at A415. What do you notice?

Can you hear how much creamier and sonorous things become at A415? The timbre of the sound is affected as well as the pitch and it’s amazing the difference just a semitone can make.

With larger instruments the difference is even more apparent. It’s common practice to ‘borrow’ Baroque flute music and play it on the treble recorder a minor third higher, but it’s even more delectable played at Baroque pitch on a voice flute (a tenor in D), as you can hear here.

It's not just classically trained musicians who understand this fact. Jimi Hendrix made use of this contrast in some of his music, choosing to play certain songs with his instruments tuned a semitone lower. As well as making the higher notes easier to reach for singers, guitars have a deeper, heavier sound when tuned this way because their strings are under less tension. Have a listen to Little Wing – one of the songs he chose to play at a lower pitch.

Taking the plunge into Baroque pitch

Once upon a time if you wanted to try playing at A415 that meant buying an expensive new recorder – usually a treble to begin with. In the grand scheme of things relatively few recorders are made at Baroque pitch so historically they were only made in wood. Likewise, only serious students tend to want to make this leap so almost all low pitch instruments fall into the upper end of the price range.

Another option is to buy a recorder with a corps de rechange. This is an instrument with two middle joints – one shorter for playing at A440, and a second longer one for A415. If you regularly find yourself swapping between pitches (maybe you play in both low pitch and concert pitch ensembles) this can be a budget friendly route. I bought such a recorder many years ago when I invested in my voice flute (the one you heard earlier in the Telemann Fantasia), with an additional centre joint to give me the option of an A440 tenor recorder. This was a useful compromise and allowed me to get two recorders for only slightly more than the price of one.

Baroque pitch on a budget

Happily the recorder market has moved on, and cheaper options exist for those who think they’d like to play at A415. Zen-on now offer a plastic A415 treble recorder, based upon their excellent A440 Bressan model. At the current price of £125 it’s a pricey plastic recorder (although comparable to the cost of a plastic tenor or bass) but it would make a good stepping stone to a wooden instrument. I’ve recently tried one of these instruments and very much enjoyed the experience. It has a lovely, warm tone, which is even throughout its range and the tuning is excellent. Overall it’s a great budget choice and would make an excellent practice instrument for when your wooden recorders need a rest.

Another option are the resin recorders made by French recorder maker Vincent Bernolin. These are designed as copies of original instruments by Thomas Stanesby and feature the refined voicing you’d expect from a handmade wooden recorder. They currently cost €395 for a descant and €495 for a treble, available at both A415 and 440. I haven’t been able to try one yet but Sarah Jeffery was impressed with the quality and tone when she reviewed them on her Team Recorder YouTube channel. You can watch her review here:

When I first considered buying an A415 recorder the wooden instruments available all tended to be high end, expensive models. That’s still mostly true today, but Mollenhauer have expanded their Denner Line series of recorders to include an A415 treble recorder in pearwood, which is currently sold for around £375. Pear is a softwood, so may not have the ultimate quality or longevity of hardwoods such as boxwood, palisander or grenadilla. But if you prefer the sound and response of a wooden instrument it’s definitely worth considering if you’re on a budget. A boxwood model is also available for around £200 more.

Not ready to make the leap yet?

Playing at Baroque pitch won’t be for everyone. It may be that all your recorder playing friends only have A440 instruments and you feel you won’t get good use out of such an investment. Of course, there’s nothing to stop you playing solo repertoire at A415 on your own, but I appreciate one of the joys of recorder playing is being able to make music with others.

Even if you feel this isn’t for you I would encourage you to at least try an A415 instrument if you have the opportunity. Maybe you attend a recorder course where a retailer comes along with instruments to try? Or perhaps you live within reach of the Early Music Shop, or a similar shop? If you have the opportunity, do go along and have a tootle on a low pitch instrument – I guarantee you’ll experience that ‘wow’ moment as you realise what a difference that semitone makes!

If nothing else, I hope this exploration of pitch has opened your eyes to possibilities beyond concert pitch and perhaps given you a few interesting facts you can amaze your friends with. If you already have a Baroque pitch recorder why not leave a comment below and share what led you to take the leap – it may help others who are sitting on the fence.

To finish I’ll leave you with a pair of recordings so you can appreciate the different soundworlds of modern and Baroque pitch. I’ve chosen Handel’s wonderful Sonata in C, played by Michala Petri (A440) and Erik Bosgraaf (A415). They’re very different interpretations, recorded nearly three decades apart, but a fascinating contrast - I’d love to hear which you enjoy most and why.