baroque

An instrument of many different characters

For many people the first image to come to mind when the recorder is mentioned will be the descant they encountered during their school years - quite possibly a plastic one, played very badly. But those of us in the know understand our favourite instrument has many more facets. Even so, many recorder players are really only familiar with mass produced Baroque style instruments, whether they’re made from plastic or wood.

Throughout history, the music composed for the recorder has changed, and the instrument has evolved in parallel to suit new fashions and styles. This is the first of a series of blog posts about the recorder’s different characteristics, exploring the way the instrument’s design has changed over the last six centuries. Today I’m going to talk about Renaissance and Baroque recorders. Since the recorder’s revival in the early twentieth century there have been many more developments, but I’ll talk about those in a subsequent post.

There’s absolutely nothing wrong with using Baroque style recorders to explore our varied repertoire, but maybe this will open your eyes to the way a historically appropriate design of recorder can influence the way music from different periods is performed.

The Medieval period

The oldest surviving recorders date back to the fourteenth century. The best known is perhaps the Dordecht recorder, found in the Netherlands in 1940. These ancient instruments are a simple design, made from a single piece of wood, but they share the recognisable features of our modern recorders - a windway created by the insertion of a fipple (the block) into the mouthpiece and a thumb hole to allow for a greater range of notes than a simple whistle. Sadly many of the surviving recorders are in poor condition as their wooden construction made them prone to damage or decay after they were discarded.

Renaissance recorders

By the time we reach the Renaissance period, we not only have a much larger array of surviving original instruments to study, but plenty of imagery too. This illustration, taken from Michael Praetorius’ treatise Syntagma Musicum (1614-20), clearly shows a sizeable family of recorders, from tiny to large.

The Renaissance look

Renaissance recorders look very different to the Baroque ones we often play today. The smaller instruments, from the tenor upwards, were usually made from a single piece of wood, while the larger recorders were creates in two pieces. Their outline tends to be very simple, with few decorative features - a straight body with a flared bell.

Another detail you may notice from the image above is the appearance of two holes for finger seven (clearest on the 6th recorder from the left). This allows the instrument to be played with the left or the right at the top and the unused hole would have been filled with wax. Larger recorders needed keys to make the lowest notes playable and these were made with a characteristic butterfly shape for the same reason. It’s normal to play with the left hand uppermost today, but if you study paintings from this era you’ll see they feature both left and right handed recorder players fairly equally.

A consort of recorders by Adrian Brown, based on an image from Sebastian Virdung's treatise Musica getutscht. The recording below was performed on a consort like this.

The elegant butterfly keys were only necessary for the larger sizes of recorder - certainly on basses and on some tenors too. The lower part of the key was often covered with a fontanelle made of perforated metal or wood. This protected the vulnerable mechanism, but added a decorative element too. The holes in the fontenelle also allow air to escape - without these it would have a negative effect on the tuning.

You might think that having instruments made from a single piece of wood would create difficulties with tuning – after all, you can’t adjust the pitch of a single piece recorder by pulling out the headjoint. Recorders of this period were almost always made in consorts at one pitch, so this was less of a problem than we would consider it today.

Most Renaissance bass (or basset as Praetorius calls them) recorders were direct blow models, although you need longer arms to play these compared to modern knick basses. Larger bass instruments existed too, the longest of which is listed in the inventory of Queen Mary of Hungary. It’s described as being a ‘baras’ in length - that’s about two and a half metres! For these largest recorders a crook or bocal is needed to carry the player’s breath to the windway, as you can see in the Praetorius image earlier. The video below features the Royal Wind Music performing on a consort of low recorders and you can see at close quarters the additions needed to make the biggest ones playable!

Not just recorders in C and F

Today’s recorders tend to use mostly C and F fingerings, but Renaissance recorders weren’t so consistent. Consorts of instruments were often pitched a 5th part - for instance a basset in F, a tenor in C, a treble in G and perhaps even a descant in D. These letters always refer to the lowest note of the recorder. To our modern brains playing recorders in G and D might require greater mental gymnastics than we’re used to, but I’m sure Renaissance musicians were entirely comfortable reading at any pitch, playing from a greater variety of clefs than we expect today too.

Renaissance tone begins inside the recorder

While Renaissance recorders look simpler on the outside, the shape of the internal bore is also very different. Inevitably this varies between the historical instruments which survive today, but they all have certain similarities. The bore tends to be mostly cylindrical, but with a noticeable flare at the bottom end. It’s this internal shape that influences the characteristics of the recorder’s tone and response.

Recorders from the Renaissance, often have a slightly smaller range than Baroque models - sometimes as little as an octave and six notes. Most music echoed the range of the human voice though, so this wasn’t a great restriction for composers. The lowest notes tend to be much richer and stronger, often demanding greater reserves of breath to fill out the tone. Because of this strength of tone more incisive articulation is also possible, making it easier to bring out the complexities of counterpoint and melodic shapes we so often see in Renaissance music. You can hear this clearly in Sirena’s performance of La Lusignola by Tarquinio Merula.

Fingerings and pitch

Most mass produced modern recorders are played with a pretty standard set of fingerings. The different bore shape of Renaissance recorders requires some variations on these fingerings. For instance, the ninth note from the bottom (middle D on a tenor recorder, or G on a treble) would have been played by covering none of the finger holes rather than using finger 2 as we would today. Handmade professional consorts of Renaissance recorders, such as those by Adrian Brown or Tom Prescott, retain these authentic fingerings. However, many of the more affordable consorts by makers such as Moeck and Mollenhauer, have been tweaked to allow the use of the more familiar modern fingerings.

Some time ago I shared a blog about the history of pitch, where we discovered that the standardisation of musical pitch is really quite a recent concept. During the Renaissance period music was generally performed at a higher pitch than we would expect today, and as a result some modern copies of old instruments are made at A=466. This is a pitch of convenience which has become internationally recognised, but it wouldn’t have been the case then. Instruments would have been crafted to match the pitch of instruments which can’t easily be adjusted, such as church organs, and pitch would probably have varied from village to village. The solution was to make recorders in matching consorts so you could make music together - undoubtedly why King Henry VIII’s inventory lists no fewer than 76 recorders!

Before you buy…

If you’re thinking about purchasing some Renaissance style instruments it’s important to consider how you’ll use them first.

Many professional ensembles commission a matching set of consort instruments from their preferred recorder maker. This creates a well matched sound and makes the tuning easier. Such instruments are often pitched at A=466 - around a semitone higher than modern concert pitch. If you only play the recorders together this is fine, but it’s probably more practical to stick with A440 if you want to have the flexibility to play with others.

The Renaissance instruments offered by the mainstream recorder brands are a good place to start if you want to dip your toes into this sound world at a more modest price point. I use Mollenhauer’s Kynseker instruments, but there are similarly priced Renaissance instruments available from Moeck and Peter Kobliczek, and it’s worth keeping a lookout for instruments for sale secondhand.

The Ganassi recorder - reality or myth?

In his 1535 treatise Opera intitulata Fontegara Sylvestro Ganassi reveals his discovery of a further octave of notes above those normally played on the recorder. He shares fingering charts for these additional high notes, noting adjustments which need to be made to one’s breath and articulation to achieve them.

The title page of Ganassi’s Opera intitulata Fontegara, featuring a consort of recorder players.

One thing Ganassi doesn’t include is a detailed description of the type of recorder required to play these notes. In the 1970s unsuccessful efforts were made to locate an original recorder capable of playing with his fingerings. In the absence of such an instrument, several contemporary makers, such as Fred Morgan, Alec Loretto and Bob Marvin, created their own designs to fill this gap. Externally they were modelled on pictures from La Fontegara, but much experimentation was needed to find the appropriate bore shape and level of flare at the bell to work with Ganassi’s fingerings. Ultimately the ‘Ganassi’ recorder is a modern creation, but still much loved by players today. I have a Von Huene Ganassi descant myself and love its rich tone, full low notes and the ease with which it plays the higher notes.

Baroque recorders - a change of purpose

The concept of the recorder as a consort instrument became less pervasive as time passed. There’s a small handful of pieces composed specifically for recorder consort (the Schmelzer Sonata à 7 is probably the most familiar) but in general the instrument took on a new musical role. As composers began to include the recorder in chamber music with other instruments and as the solo line in concertos a new sound and style was needed.

Whereas the Renaissance consort used the different sizes of recorder equally, during the Baroque the treble became the most popular size of instrument. The other recorders didn’t entirely fall out of use, but it was the treble that Bach, Telemann and Handel chose to use in their solo sonatas, cantatas, chamber music and concertos in combination with many other instruments. For instance, Bach’s Brandenburg Concerto No.2 has four soloists, playing recorder, oboe, violin and trumpet.

Baroque elegance

At first glance the biggest change to the Baroque recorder is its external shape. Gone is the one piece design. Almost all recorders from this period (aside from some sopraninos and descants) are made from three pieces - the headjoint, body and footjoint. Creating breaks in the instrument adds points of weakness, so makers compensated by making the wood thicker here. These bulbous points added strength, but also created an opportunity for decoration - a stylistic feature we also see in Baroque architecture and fashion. Some makers took this to extremes, using complex wood turning and ivory rings.

The iconic image from Hotteterre’s 1707 treatise on playing the recorder, flute and oboe. The recorder’s decoration is as ornate as the player’s cuffs!

Another change to the Baroque recorder is the shape of the mouthpiece - often elegantly carved to look more like a beak. This has no effect on the tone, but was no doubt more in keeping with Baroque style and elegance. This feature also brought us the French name for the instrument - flute á bec.

At the other end of the recorder, another innovation was introduced by Peter Bressan - the addition of double holes for the lowest two notes. We take such luxuries for granted today, but this simple innovation makes the lowest semitones stronger and  clearer - something that would become more important as music became more chromatic.

Many recorders have survived from the 18th century and can be seen in museums around the world. Fortunately contemporary makers have been allowed to examine these instruments and take measurements, resulting in modern copies for us to play today. Look at any recorder maker’s website and you’ll find recorders based on those by Peter Bressan, Jean-Jacques Rippert, Jacob Denner, Thomas Stanesby and others.

Inside the Baroque recorder

The Baroque recorder doesn’t just look different on the outside - the interior also changed to meet the demands of the new music. The headjoint remains almost cylindrical, but a taper is introduced through the body of the instrument, becoming most extreme at the footjoint. This taper has two purposes. From a practical point of view it allows for more comfortable placing of the fingerholes, but more importantly it greatly affects the sound of the instrument. Gone are the fruity low notes - the lowest tones are now much gentler. By way of compensation, the high notes are much stronger and easier to play - perfect for the florid passagework of Bach and his contemporaries. The Baroque recorder has a larger range too - at least two octaves and a note, but some composers (particularly Telemann) went further still, expecting players to reach the giddy heights of top C on the treble from time to time!

Mimicking the human voice

While recorders in C and F were the most common, a handful of other variations exist too. One of these is the Voice Flute - a recorder which sits between the treble and tenor, whose lowest note is D. The voice flute probably originated in the court of King Louis XIV of France, in Lully’s orchestra. It allowed recorder players to play music originally intended for the flute at the correct pitch. Of course its range, from the D above middle C also mimics that of the female human voice and this is likely to be the origin of its name.

It was commonplace during the Baroque to transpose flute music a minor third higher to place it within reach of the treble recorder. But this makes the music sound brighter and loses some of the mellower tonal qualities of the transverse flute. The voice flute, with its lower pitch, retains some of this character, while also being as agile as the treble recorder. Several original voice flutes survive today and modern copies based upon instruments by Bressan, Rippert and Stanesby are available for those who wish to explore this lovely sound world.

Other curiosities

Smaller recorders became less common during the Baroque period, but a handful of wonderful works exist for the higher instruments. Vivaldi composed three concertos for the ‘flautino’ or sopranino, although his scores also indicate that the music can be played a fourth lower on the descant.

The descant recorder and its close relatives also largely fell out of fashion at this time, although a handful of composers persisted with it in England. The names of such recorders often described their relationship to the treble recorder. Therefore the descant was a fifth flute because it’s pitched a fifth above the treble. It’s this recorder for which Giuseppe Sammartini, an Italian oboist working in London, composed his delightful concerto.

Alongside the descant there are two other variants. The fourth flute was pitched in B flat, a fourth above the treble and sounds rather mellower than the modern descant. It’s something of an anomaly, but two lovely suites by Dieupart survive for this instrument.

A more common small recorder (at least in England) was the sixth flute, sounding a sixth above the treble, and an octave above the voice flute. Three composers, William Babell, Robert Woodcock and John Baston, chose this as their instrument of choice for their charming concertos. These were almost certainly composed to be played between the acts of operas in London and the high pitch would no doubt have commanded the audience’s attention.

Should you invest in different types of recorder?

The decision of buy different types of recorders is a very personal one. If your playing comes as part of a massed ensemble, such as an SRP branch, a Baroque style recorder may suit your needs just fine.

On the other hand, if you play lots of Renaissance music, especially in smaller consorts, using historically appropriate instruments may help you get closer to the sound world of the period. Renaissance recorders require a different style of playing, from breath control to articulation, and can help you understand the music better. During my first year at music college our department invested in a double consort of Mollenhauer Kynseker recorders. We immediately noticed the difference. Suddenly we could use the appropriate articulation to bring out the cross rhythms and it was much easier to create sweetly tuned chords. Even when recording my consort videos now, I always use my Kynseker recorders for Renaissance repertoire and I hope perhaps you can hear some of these differences in the tone, style and articulation.

Ultimately your choice may come down to budget - after all, none of us have bottomless pockets. If this is the case and you have no plans to buy more recorders, I would still encourage you to at least try them when you have an opportunity - perhaps at an early music festival or during a recorder course where there’s an in house recorder shop. Trying a Renaissance recorder or voice flute for even a few minutes will give you a glimpse into these different sound worlds and a greater understanding of how the instruments we play can change the way we play the music written for them.

How do you hemiola?

Most recorder players feel at home playing Baroque music. After all, the period between around 1600 and 1750 was the heyday of our instrument, with composers like Handel, Bach and Telemann producing exquisite solo and chamber music for the recorder. However, there’s one rhythmic feature of Baroque music which often creates confusion and concern among recorder players - the hemiola. As we shall see, the hemiola wasn’t restricted to the Baroque period and can be found in repertoire as disparate as Susato and Brahms.

When conducting recorder ensembles, I often ask if everyone knows what a hemiola is when we encounter one. Usually, I see a handful of confident nods around the room, but these are invariably outnumbered by people who either look at me blankly or else suddenly find the floor immensely interesting! My aim today is to help lift the mists of rhythmic confusion, to assist you identifying and playing them with more confidence.

What is a hemiola?

Put simply, it’s a temporary change to the music’s regular rhythmic pattern, changing groups of three beats into groups of two. It’s always simplest to explain such concepts with musical examples so you can actually see them in practice. Take a look at this extract from Lully’s Bourgeois Gentilhomme:

The time signature gives us three beats in each bar. The first beat of the bar is the strongest, so the hierarchy of beats in bar one is strong-weak-weak. The same applies to bar 2. Now look at bars 3 and 4 and see how the rhythm changes. Instead of three crotchet beats we have three minim beats spread over two bars. With a note held across the barline, there’s no way to emphasise the first beat of bar 4, so instead stronger pulses occur every two beats, rather than every three. This is a hemiola.

This particular example is about as simple as it gets with hemiolas - all five voices play the same rhythm so the effect is inescapable. Unfortunately, not all hemiolas are so obvious. If you glance at bars 6 and 7 you’ll see a very similar rhythm, but here the highest voice deviates slightly from the pattern. The overall effect is still a hemiola but slightly less clear cut.

If you find it easier to understand this concept visually I recommend watching this video, created by the Orchestra of the Age of Enlightenment, which uses different examples to help explain the hemiola further - including a juggler! The video also includes the Lully example I showed above, among others.

Why do we have hemiolas?

There are several reasons why a composer might wish to include a hemiola in his or her music - let’s look at them..

To add rhythmic interest

Shifting between groups of two and three beats brings an extra layer of variety and energy to the music. Brahms does this a lot in his music, sometimes bringing hemiola shapes into different parts independently. Recorder players don’t often get to play Brahms, but the same things happens in earlier music too. In The Fairie-round Anthony Holborne shifts endlessly between duple (2) and triple (3) time rhythms. Sometimes the parts shift between meters simultaneously, but often they work independently of each other. sometimes simultaneously. I’ve altered the colour of the notes in this extract to show the triple time rhythms in red, while the duple time rhythms are blue. Click on the image to see it enlarged. If you’ve ever tried to play the Fairie-round you’ll understand why it can be so tricky to put together!

To speed up the musical movement

When you create a hemiola you shift from having a strong pulse every three beats to one every two beats - this gives a sense of the pulse increasing in speed. I’ve added a drum line to the Lully example shown above, placing a drum beat on the stronger pulses. Notice how the speed of the pulse increases when the beat occurs every two beats rather than every three beats.

An aural guide to the music’s phrasing

This is perhaps the most important function for a hemiola, especially in Renaissance and Baroque music. While modern music can be hugely complex, early music frequently contains more consistent and predictable harmonic and rhythmic patterns. That’s not to say it can’t be surprising, but there are melodic and rhythmic features which crop up regularly - for instance trills at cadences in Baroque music.

The hemiola is one such musical feature and composers use it to flag up to the listener that we’re approaching the end of a phrase. Of course, it’s unlikely that you’ll sit there thinking to yourself, “Oh, there’s a hemiola - that must mean it’s the end of a phrase!”. But if you listen to music from this period often enough you’ll subconsciously sense the movement of the rhythm and harmony, feeling a sense of arrival as the music reaches a cadence.

The biggest clue is the rate of change in the harmonies. Very often there will be just one or two chords or harmonies in each bar. At the hemiola this alters, as the harmonies change more swiftly. For instance, listen to this short movement by Gottfried Keller and notice how the rhythm and harmony shifts up a gear just before the cadences. If you’re not sure where the cadences are, listen out for the trills which also occur then. If you’d like to follow the music as you’re listening click here.

Where do hemiolas happen?

Generally hemiolas occur in triple time music - that’s music which has three beats in each bar, say 3/4, 3/2 or 3/8. Let’s look at a few examples.

The first comes from Handel’s Music for the Royal Fireworks - a short extract from the Minuets. The music is in 3/4 time but two bars before the end of the phrase (look out for trills as these often occur at cadence points too) the harmonies change from mostly being one chord per bar to three chords spread over two bars - shown by the boxes.

If you’d like to try this example for yourself you can play among with my consort video of the minuet here.

Minuet from Handel’s Music for the Royal Fireworks - click on the image to see it larger

Now let’s take a look at a hemiola in minim beats - this time taken from Handel’s Recorder Sonata in D minor. If you look at the boxes, you’l notice the first first two beats (box 1) include notes which are predominantly from one chord - A major (A, C sharp and E). The second box contains two different chords, but the final one is once again made up almost entirely of A major.

Handel recorder Sonata in D minor, 2nd movement

As a further example, here’s a short snippet from another of Handel’s recorder sonatas - this time in C major. The time signature is 3/8 - three quaver beats (or one dotted crotchet beat) per bar. In bars 46 and 47 he changes this to have rhythmic groups of two quaver beats. The hemiola is clearest in the recorder part, where the silence on beat one of bar 47 means the emphasis inevitably shifts to the dotted quaver note on the second beat of that bar. This particular movement is littered with hemiolas just like this, introducing a delightful shift from the one in a bar feel elsewhere in the movement. You can listen to the whole movement below.

Handel Recorder Sonata in C major, 2nd movement

Of course, there’s no such thing as a rule that’s never broken, so occasionally you’ll find hemiolas in unexpected time signatures. In La Paix Handel writes in 12/8 time, but still manages to squeeze a hemiola in at the cadences! The music isn’t in triple time, but as the dotted crotchet beats each contain three quavers Handel can group those quavers in twos rather than threes, thus creating a hemiola. Take a look at the top three parts where I’ve added the boxes and you’ll once again see the beats grouped in twos - predominantly either crotchets or as pairs of quavers.

La Paix from Handel’s Music for the Royal Fireworks

Finding the hemiola in its natural habitat

Let’s take a look at the most likely locations for hemiolas…

Cadence points

In Renaissance and Baroque music hemiolas almost always occur immediately before a cadence. These are the points where the music comes to rest momentarily, giving a sense of arrival. If you’re not sure what a cadence is, think of them as the musical equivalent of punctuation in written text. When reading text aloud, the commas and full stops tell you where to take a moment to allow a point to sink in, allowing both you and your listeners a moment to breathe. A cadence has the same purpose, bringing a sense of pause or arrival in the music. Play through any of the examples I’ve shared so far today and you’ll feel this sense of arrival on the note or chord immediately following the hemiola.

When you learn a new piece of music, listen out for these moments of repose as they will guide your phrasing. If the music is in triple time (3/8, 3/4 or 3/2) or in 6/8 you may well find a hemiola in the bar or two immediately preceding these cadence points.

Take a look at this section from Andrew Parcham’s Solo in G, where I’ve marked two hemiolas. Both come at cadence points and if you try playing the top line you’ll no doubt feel that moment of arrival on the note immediately following the hemiola. The composer would almost certainly have expected the performer to add a trill to the final dotted crotchet of each hemiola too - as you can hear in the recording below. The Allegro begins 2 minutes and 27 seconds into the video.

Andrew Parcham Solo in G

Look for trills in Baroque music

As I’ve already mentioned, cadence points are often decorated with trills in Baroque music. These aren’t always marked in the music because composers generally assumed the musicians would be familiar enough with the musical style to know where they should be added. But some did take the trouble to notate them and you’ll often find places where modern editors suggest adding cadential trills. These can be an additional way for you to spot where a hemiola may be lurking.

Look at the whole score

Perhaps the most important piece of advice I can give is to look at the whole score of the music, not just your individual part. Sometimes the hemiolas will be clear as day in your line, but, as we’ve seen in some of the examples I’ve shared, it’s often easier to spot the hemiola when looking at several parts together.

For instance, look at this extract from a Ronde by Tielman Susato. If you’re playing the top line, reading from a single part, you’d be forgiven for missing the hemiola entirely because both bars look like standard 3/2 rhythms. Cast your eye down through the score though and the hemiola becomes much clearer, with a two beat note at either end. Here the top line is simply providing rhythmic contrast, but the overall effect is definitely a hemiola.

Susato Ronde

Look for the rhythmic clues

Very often a hemiola’s effect is amplified by the use of longer notes, which have more weight or aural mass, as I like to call it. Look through any of the examples I’ve shared here and you’ll see time and again, how the composer fills one or two of the hemiola’s three parts with a longer note. This length and weight of these notes makes that section of the hemiola feel more significant, emphasising the fact that he or she is moving the musical stresses away from their usual position on the first beat of the bar.

For example, look at the last few bars of Telemann’s Concerto in C below - at the hemiola you’ll see I’ve circled the dotted crotchets in red. These notes will naturally draw the ear because they’re longer than the other note values within the hemiola. This brings the hemiola effect out effectively, especially if the quavers are kept detached and light.

Telemann Recorder Concerto in C, 4th movement

Look for consistency of rhythm through the texture.

As we’ve already seen, the hemiola rhythm doesn’t always appear in every voice, but often there will be some unanimity. Take a look at this Galliard by Anthony Holborne and you can clearly see a consistency of rhythm between the five voices. Unlike the Lully we looked at first, the parts aren’t entirely unanimous in their rhythm, but in both hemiolas several voices simultaneously have the same rhythm. Looking at the score, it becomes clear there’s a move away from the usual 1 2 3 - 1 2 3 rhythm to a hemiola pattern.

How do I play a hemiola?

Once you’ve identified your hemiola it’s very tempting to emphasise the start of all three sections to hammer the point home. Undoubtedly this will make your hemiola stand out, but it’ll likely lack subtlety!

A better approach is to think in terms of only emphasising one or two sections of the hemiola, which will result in a more subtle, musical effect. For instance, there are two hemiolas in this section of Purcell’s Chaconne from The Gordion Knot Untied. Both begin and end with dotted rhythms, which will naturally attract the most musical weight because of their longer length.

Ordinarily, the first beat of each bar would be the strongest, but here the aural mass of the dotted crotchets moves the emphasis onto the second beat of bars 52 and 59. Now you could also put some added weight onto the last beat of bars 51 and 58 to bring out the middle section of the hemiola. However, the result would be rather heavy and a better approach is to make the middle section of the hemiola light and less important. In this case I’d simply make the crotchets which fall within the second box of each hemiola short and light, creating a sense of lift and bounce. You can hear me putting this approach in practice in my consort video of this piece here.

Let’s take a look at another example, this time from Handel’s Recorder Sonata in B flat.

If you listen to this recording by David Antich you’ll hear the ensemble allow the longer notes to have some weight, but the cellist keeps the crotchets in the bassline light and separated, so as to minimise their importance and help highlight the rhythmic shift of the hemiola.

Looking beyond early music

As I said earlier, hemiolas aren’t restricted to the music of the Renaissance and Baroque - later composers used then too. One of the most famous appears in Leonard Bernsteins’s score for West Side Story and you’ll almost certainly be familiar with the shifting rhthms in America. But had you ever thought of it as a hemiola? You will now! Take a listen - the famous melody line begins around one minute and fifteens seconds into the video below.

Another example occurs in the opening bars of the Concierto de Aranjuez by Joaquin Rodrigo. The solo guitarist opens the whole work with the rhythmic pattern shown below - a clear hemiola in 6/8 time.

As I said at the beginning, Brahms wrote hemiolas too and you’ll find them dotted about endlessly in his music. Very often he chooses to write hemiolas independently in different voices but in this example, from his Intermezzo No.1 for piano, he shows them very clearly together. Normally in 6/8 time the quavers would be grouped in threes (as they are at the beginning of the extract) but on the second system here he writes a series of crotchets - notes worth two quavers - to create a series of hemiolas.

Johannes Brahms Intermezzo No.1 for piano

Are the hemiola mists clearing?

I hope my explanations and all these musical examples have helped you to understand the hemiola better. Don’t be afraid of them, but just be aware of their existence when you meet pieces where the note patterns are grouped in threes. Take every opportunity to consult the score, as you’re more likely to see them there, and don’t hesitate to experiment with your phrasing and articulation in bars you think may be hemiolas. These fascinating rhythmic patterns don’t bite and they can bring more variety, light and shade into your performances.

Finally, if you have a trick for spotting or dealing with hemiolas which I haven’t mentioned please do leave a comment below so we can share our ideas and musical knowledge.

Decisions, decisions…

Musical notation comes in incredibly varied forms. Most music composed since the mid-19th century contains clear instructions from the composer, showing us where he or she would like us to begin our interpretation. That’s not to say we don’t still have musical choices to make, but generally the music gives us a clear starting point.

Now look back in time. As we travel back through the musical periods, composers give us fewer clues, expecting us to already have sufficient knowledge of the appropriate musical style to be able to make the necessary choices. This can be bewildering – so many decisions to make, but where to begin?!

Handel’s manuscript of his Recorder Sonata in F major

How should we make these decisions?

In an ideal world you’d go back to some original sources, to learn directly from composers and writers of the period.  A great starting point for this is On Playing the Flute by Johann Joachim Quantz – a book I’ve talked about before. If you want a glimpse into the 18th century musical mind and an opportunity to pick up lots of helpful tips I strongly recommend you purchase a copy of this iconic book. Quantz helpfully breaks his advice down into user-friendly chunks, so it’s easy to dip in to find the information you need.

For the purposes of this blog post I’m going to concentrate on Baroque music, but many of the same principles can be also used in other repertoire. To illustrate my ideas I’ll use the first two movements of Handel’s Recorder Sonata in F – a piece of music I imagine many of you will already be familiar with. To make life easier, below you’ll find buttons which link to two different editions of this famous sonata.

The first is a facsimile of the sonata from a collection published by John Walsh in London in 1732. The notation is very clear and typical of the type of edition with which Handel’s contemporaries would have been familiar. The music includes only the recorder part and bassline, along with figured bass. Using the bassline and figures the harpsichordist is expected to improvise a performance, allowing complete autonomy over the style and mood of the accompaniment. As a recorder player, being able to see the shape of the bassline is also helpful as you can immediately see the conversation between the two voices.

Secondly, we have a modern edition of the piece, which includes a full realisation of the figured bass – probably the type of edition you’ll be more familiar with.

Taking your first steps on the road to an authentic Baroque style

I’m going to break down the elements of Baroque style, although these inevitably overlap in places. As you gain in confidence and experience you’ll be better able to assess some of these elements ‘on the hoof’, as you sightread. Of course, no one can be expected to form a final interpretation of any piece while sight reading, so don’t worry if at first all you can do is get around the notes and rhythms. As you get to know the music better, try to use some of the self-awareness techniques I discussed in my last blog post to think about the musical possibilities.

Let’s take a look at some of the elements you should think about as you get to know the music better…

Select your tempo

This really needs to be your starting point. Look at the composer’s tempo markings and identify what they mean. If the markings are in a language you don’t speak, go and look them up! Wikipedia has a pretty comprehensive glossary of musical terms here which you might want to bookmark.

Now play the music at what you think is an appropriate speed and consider what mood or character the composer is trying to conjure up. For me, the opening Larghetto of the Handel is quite noble. The lines emerge gradually, building from a simple beginning, blossoming into more expansive shapes later. In contrast, the Allegro is a much livelier, skittish number. It seems to be itching to have some fun at the beginning, with energetic jumps and repetitions, finally leaping properly into action with the semiquavers at bar 6.

Assessing the mood and character this way will influence your choices later. Don’t worry if you can’t play everything in a polished way at this stage – it’s more a matter of deciding what character you want to project, even if technical limitations get in your way at first!

While you’re here, bear in mind what sort of key you’re playing in.  Major keys tend to be sunnier and more joyful, while minors are darker and more sonorous. That too may affect the way you decide to play the music, especially if the key changes en-route through the piece.

The implications of time signatures

Now check your time signature. How many beats are there in each bar and how do those beats break down? For instance, a piece in compound time (where the main beats subdivide into three rather than two notes – this sonata’s final 12/8 Allegro for instance) will perhaps have a more rustic, country dance-like feel than a movement in 4/4.

By the time we reach the Baroque period, composers habitually use time signatures to show how the music is constructed – unlike the freer, unbarred music of the Renaissance. In the Baroque style there is a clear sense of hierarchy within the beats of each bar - the first of which is always the strongest. Bear this in mind as you play, as using an equal weight on every beat of each bar will quickly become very repetitive. Try playing the first few bars of the Larghetto with an equal weight on every beat. Then have another go with a gentle emphasis on the first beat of the bar, while making beats 2 and 3 less insistent. Note now this helps the music flow more elegantly.

In time signatures with more beats per bar things become a touch more complex. In four, for instance, you could illustrate the hierarchy of the beats graphically like this…

Beats 1 and 3 are subtly different, but definitely the most important as they begin each half of the bar, with beat 1 being the strongest. Next in the pecking order comes beat 4 – this is because it’s the one that leads us onwards into the next bar. Finally, the runt of the litter is beat 2, the weakest part of the bar. Awareness of this musical hierarchy can help you bring more subtlety to your playing.

Turning notes into musical sentences

Now turn your mind to the phrasing of the music. Compare music to the spoken word. Musical phrases, like spoken sentences need ebb and flow, rather than a continuous, shapeless stream of notes. In text we have punctuation to help us create sense from the words, but in Baroque repertoire we have to figure out the musical sentences for ourselves.

Baroque music is often quite straightforward in its shaping, with phrases tending to come in multiples of 2, 4 or 8 bars – think of it like a poem with a regular number of syllables in each line. With this in mind, look at the music and see if this reveals natural places to breathe. If the music begins with an anacrusis (an upbeat of some sort, perhaps a single beat or half beat note) subsequent phrases will almost certainly follow the same pattern.

For instance in the Larghetto, the recorder part begins with two crotchet beats. If you look at this passage, you can see I’ve added a breath mark before each of these two beat patterns. If you look at one of the scores, you’ll see the bassline also begins many phrases with the same two beat pattern.

In contrast, the Allegro has a single quaver anacrusis and this pattern also repeats throughout the movement.

All the breath marks in this section come before a quaver upbeat

Naturally, there will be instances where the composer changes things up to add variety, so don’t be afraid to try different approaches and see which you like best. Sometimes the phrasing becomes more obvious when you play the music with its accompaniment – hearing the harmony beneath your line can clarify things.

Adding light and shade through articulation

In modern music we expect composers to tell us precisely how they wish us to articulate their notes, through slurs, staccato, accents and the like. Baroque performers, by contrast, were expected to have an innate understanding of the prevailing musical style and to shape their performances accordingly. Obviously, we can’t travel back in time to talk to 18th century musicians, so this is where resources such as Quantz’s book come in handy. If you listen to older performances of Baroque music you’ll often hear lush, heavy string playing, which owes more to the Romantic period than authentic playing practice.

A lush, romantic interpretation of Bach’s Air from his Third Orchestral Suite by Herbert von Karajan and the Berlin Philharmonic

With the early music revival of the 1960s performers began looking more closely at the practices of the period, introducing greater light and shade into their interpretations, alongside the use of original instruments, or faithful modern copies of period instruments. Much of the variety you find in these performances of Baroque music is created through the use of articulation.

A historically aware performance of the same piece by the Academy of Ancient Music

With a blank canvas to work from (Baroque composers rarely give more than the occasional slur or staccato mark) the possibilities can seem overwhelming. I have a few simple guidelines which I hope will help you come up with your own personal interpretation. I hesitate to call these ‘rules’ as that suggests they are things you must do. Instead, think of them as a starting point and remember too that rules are made to be broken!

Here are the basics ideas I suggest to my students when they’re trying to find a Baroque style, along with some examples from the first two movements of the Handel Sonata:

Slow movements will often be more suited to legato playing than fast ones. But that’s not to say everything should be silky smooth. Try making weaker beats in the bar (see my earlier comments about their hierarchy) a little lighter, and less emphasised to bring in light and shade. Likewise, upbeat notes may want to be lighter/shorter so they don’t become too heavy and distract from the stronger beats.

In fast movements look at the prevailing note values. As a starting point, make the fastest notes mostly smooth (semiquavers in the Handel Allegro), while the second fastest note values (quavers in this case) can be more detached.

The first section of the Handel Allegro with staccato marks to show where I would lighten the quavers. Notice how I choose to play some of the stepwise quavers smoothly.

Now look at the melodic shapes within these detached quaver passages. Leaping notes and repeated notes will often need to be the shortest, while stepwise movement might be better played more smoothly. It’s not a one size fits all rule, but a mere starting point. Notice too, how I use staccato less often on the first beat of the bar, so as to create that sense of hierarchy between the beats.

Be aware of times when the tonality changes between major and minor. A major section may feel absolutely right played in a staccato style, while a similar shape in a minor key might benefit from a more legato approach.

You’ll notice I’ve made no reference to dynamics so far. This is largely because of the recorder’s limited dynamic range. The concept of playing pianissimo or fortissimo is not really relevant to the recorder, but that’s not to say dynamics are impossible. Instead I would suggest you focus more on using a variety of articulation (staccato, legato, accents, slurs) to add variety to your performances.

To add dynamic rise and fall think instead about using the recorder’s natural dynamic range (stronger on high notes, weaker at the bottom) to create a sense of line and shape. For instance, in the sound clip below, the dynamic of the music increases and decreases naturally as the musical line climbs and descends.

To slur or not to slur?

As I’ve already mentioned, few Baroque composers offer much in the way of slurs in their music. Two notable exceptions among recorder composers are Georg Philipp Telemann and Francesco Barsanti. Both were recorder players themselves and therefore knew what best suited the instrument. This means the slurs we encounter in their music work well and can offer ideas we can use elsewhere. For example, here are two snippets by Barsanti and Telemann.

An excerpt from Barsanti’s Sonata in D minor, where he slurs three stepwise notes together within a group of four

In his Sonata in C major, from Der getreue Musik-Meister, Telemann chose to slur groups of six notes together, crossing between neighbouring beats

Sometimes adding slurs into the music can help with faster passages, especially if you’re not yet fluent with double tonguing. A few carefully placed slurs might give your tongue a little breathing space, but I would advise against using them all over the place simply as an excuse not to improve your tonguing!

Instead, look for patterns within the music which might benefit from slurs to add greater variety and interest. For instance, you could use Barsanti’s 1 tongued, 3 slurred articulation pattern, here in the Handel Allegro. Note how the pattern changes to 3 slurred and 1 tongued from the bar 23 to suit the changing melodic shape.

If you choose this route, try to be consistent, adding the same slurs whenever a particular melodic shape appears in the movement. That will bring an added feeling of cohesiveness and make their addition feel like a musical choice rather than something random!

Incidentally, a two notes slurred, two tongued pattern is almost non-existent in Baroque music. It’s much more typical of the Classical period, appearing in music by Mozart and his contemporaries. It may seem an easy choice, but often 3+1 or 1+3 will often be more appropriate, depending on the note patterns you’re playing.

Taking the terror out of trills

The subject of ornamentation can fill an entire book, so I don’t plan to cover it in too much detail here. However, I know trills often strike fear into the hearts of recorder players, especially when your main focus is just getting on top of the notes! However, I’d like to offer a few simple words of advice which may calm your quaking nerves.

What is the purpose of a trill in Baroque music?

In many types of music, trills serve a purely decorative purpose, but in the Baroque they have a different function. You may wonder why teachers and conductors insist on that Baroque trills should start from the upper note. This isn’t just because we’re contrary, but instead it performs an important harmonic function. The whole purpose of a Baroque trill is to create a moment of tension, followed by a feeling of release. The upper note of a trill almost always clashes with the accompanying harmony, creating a discord and a sense of tension. At the moment when your fingers move on, and you begin to wiggle between the two notes of the trill that tension is released.

A strategy for Baroque trills

For many recorder players, trills feel like a distraction, sent to cause them pain and panic. Instead of panicking about their busy-ness I would focus on that upper note. By spending a little longer on the upper note your trills will sound more expressive. It also means you don’t need to wiggle your fingers for quite so long – I think that’s what you call a win-win situation! It’s important to remember that the crucial upper note must begin on the beat and not before. If you start it early (perhaps to try and buy yourself some more time) it’ll be over before the chord it is designed to clash with is played, so the trill loses its entire reason for being.

Finally, don’t feel your trills need to be metronomic and the really fast throughout - this is especially important in slow movements. In slower music you can start to wiggle lazily and gradually wind the speed up. Once again, you reduce the number of wiggles required and your fingers don’t have to move quickly for so long. More importantly, your trills will sound more expressive and musical – another double bonus!

Where next?

I have three parting thoughts which will help you put some of my advice into practice.

The first is to listen to other performers playing Baroque music. Seek out good performers and really listen to how they tackle this repertoire.  Ask yourself about the speeds they’ve chosen and where they vary their articulation. How do they phrase the music? How do they create light and shade? Look for performances by respected professional players and remember you don’t just need to focus on recorder music. For instance, listen to the Bach Brandenburg Concertos and note how the string players vary their articulation and phrasing just as recorder players do. Yes, their playing technique is different, but the basics of Baroque style apply to any instrument.

The final movement of Bach’s fourth Brandenburg Concerto. Note how the strings and recorders all vary their articulation to bring the music to life.

Secondly, take risks and experiment! Take a single movement (I would suggest something simple at first) and spend time exploring several different ways to phrase the music. Try the articulation ‘rules’ I’ve suggested then play the music again, breaking the rules. Maybe make copies of your chosen piece and mark them up with different combinations of articulation and phrasing. Do this as many times as you like, but the crucial thing is to be creative and explore all the possibilities. You’ll discover some versions you hate and some you love, but most importantly it’ll get you thinking in a different way. Don’t be afraid to make mistakes – you learn just as much from these as from your successes.

Finally, be bold! I frequently find myself telling students to be more extreme in their creative decisions. It’s too easy to be half hearted in your approach for fear of going over the top and sounding too extreme. In my experience, people are often far too cautious, resulting in bland performances which lack musical interest. Recently I’ve asked pupils to play to me as I listen with a pencil and a copy of their music to hand. As a listener I should be able to understand their intent clearly enough that I can annotate my copy of the music with their phrasing, articulation marks and dynamic shapes simply by listening. You could even record yourself playing and then try this exercise – you might find it very revealing!

 

I’d love to hear your own tips for creating interesting performances. Or perhaps you’ve been to a concert which really stuck in your memory because it was so dynamic and exciting? What did you learn from the experience and how has it helped you become a better player? Do leave a comment below so we can all share our ideas.

Music making is an endlessly fascinating subject and you can look forward to a lifetime of creative experimentation if you keep an open mind!


Don’t forget, I’m still creating new Recorder Consort Videos, plus regular duets and trios-minus one. Recent additions have included a Fughetta by Glen Shannon, excerpts from Henry Purcell’s The Fairy Queen and a two voice Fantasia by Michael East. You can find all of them over on my Downloads page.