history

Musical evolution - from the canzona to the sonata 

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With music, developments usually come through evolution rather than revolution – as in nature, changes happen gradually over time. Musical forms slowly mutate, sometimes changing their names and definitions along the way. Today I’m going to explore two types of music we often encounter as recorder players - the canzona and sonata - looking at the connections between them. In previous blogs where I’ve delved into dance forms we’ve stuck with one period of music, but the canzona and sonata will transport us from the Renaissance right up to the present day.

The Canzona

The Canzona (or Canzon) first emerged in the late 16th century as an instrumental complement to the vocal chanson. Its evolution began in Italy, where Frescobaldi composed lots of them for keyboard instruments and the Gabrielis (Andrea and Giovanni) were writing them for ensembles. Gradually the canzona spread across Europe and ultimately became popular with composers of other nationalities. 

In its simplest form the canzona is a single movement, opening with a musical theme which the composer then varies and develops. This is often achieved by creating imitation between the parts – a technique later used in the fugue in a more precisely structured way. The extract below, from Giovanni Gabrieli’s Canzon Seconda, does exactly this, with the same melodic idea appearing in all four voices in turn, before the composer moves on to other themes. The rhythmic pattern he uses at the beginning is also very typical of canzonas from this period – a long note followed by two short ones.

Play along with Gabrieli Canzon Seconda with my consort video.

As the canzona evolved, composers began to add short sections with different time signatures and tempi to add variety, but these remained interconnected sections rather than separate movements. Most canzonas begin in duple (2) time, with later contrasting sections in triple (3) time. There’s often a mathematical relationship between the tempo of these contrasting sections – something I know many musicians find hard to calculate. I explored this topic in one of my earlier blogs, so if you’ve ever found yourself perplexed by the change from two to three you can find it here!

An extract of a Canzon by Frescobaldi, with linked sections in different time signatures and tempi:

Composers rarely specified the exact instrumentation for their canzonas during this period, opting instead for non-specific part names such as cantus, altus, tenore and bassus. This means they can be freely played on any instruments whose range matches that of the music and we should feel no compunction about playing them on recorders! In 1608 the entrepreneur Alessandro Reverii published a collection in Venice titled Canzoni per sonare con ogni sorte di stromenti, containing music by twelve different composers. The very title of this collection gives carte blanch for them to be played on wind, brass or string instruments and no doubt helped with sales too!

That said, some works do request specific instruments, including some of Giovanni Gabrieli’s later works. His Sonate pian’e forte (1597) specifies it’s to be played by two choirs of instruments – a cornetto and three trombones in one, balanced by a viola and three trombones in the second. This particular piece is notable for other reasons too. One is his use of dynamic markings (as you can see in the extract below) - a real rarity at this time. The second is title - Sonate. In spite of the name, it’s still fundamentally a canzona, rather than a sonata as we would understand it today, but it shows the direction in which music was moving. It’s worth remembering too that the word sonata derives from the Latin word sonare (to sound), implying it’s a work to be played on an instrument rather than sung.

Gabrieli Sonate pian’ e forte

Evolution of the sonata

The title page of Castello’s Sonate concertate in stil moderno per sonar

Gradually, in the middle of the 17th century composers began to separate the canzona's interlinked sections into distinct movements to create the sonata, and this became the dominant form of chamber music during the Baroque period. This change didn’t happen overnight, as you can hear from the recording of Dario Castello’s Sonata Prima below. Despite the name, the contrasting musical sections are still linked to each other in a single movement. This particular work comes from a collection titled Sonate concertate in stil moderno per sonar - Castello’s way of showing that he was exploring newer styles of writing. As a listener it definitely feels modern compared to the music of Gabrieli, but it’s still more closely related to the canzona than the sonatas of Handel and Telemann.

As the contrasting sections broke apart to form distinct movements, some of them would still retain the canzona’s imitative style. This is particularly true of faster movements, where you’ll often hear melodic material shared between the solo and continuo parts.

This little known Sonata in G by Andrew Parcham shows the further evolution of the form. Again, some of the contrasting musical sections run from one to another seamlessly, but there are also places when you sense the transition towards something with clearly separate movements.

Download the music for Andrew Parcham’s Sonata in G here.

When we finally arrive at the high Baroque the sonata emerges in two distinct forms - the Sonata da camera (chamber sonata) and the Sonata da chiesa (church sonata).

The Sonata da Camera has four movements: Slow-Fast-Slow-Fast - a format Telemann uses in many of his recorder sonatas. His Sonata in C from Der Getreue Musikmeister is a good example of the da Camera sonata:

The Sonata da Chiesa on the other hand, has just three movements: Fast-Slow-Fast. In this Bach Sonata for organ the da Chiesa format seems particularly appropriate, given it’s most likely to be played in a church. However, Bach also composed plenty of four movement da Camera sonatas too.

Ultimately the da Camera/da Chiesa concept is something of an academic distinction because a sonata can have any number of movements. Here are two more examples, starting with a Vivaldi flute sonata which has three movements but completely ignores the Fast-Slow-Fast rule!

And then there are sonatas like Handel’s Recorder Sonata in C major, which has five movements. These almost adheres to the da Camera, Slow-Fast-Slow-Fast principle, but then he sneaks in a Gavotte just before the final movement to show that rules are intended to be broken! Technically a piece made up of dance movements is a Suite rather than a Sonata, but it wasn’t uncommon for composers to blur the lines between the two.

Once the Baroque sonata had arrived, rules began to form regarding how it was composed. Usually a Sonata featured one or more solo instruments (as we saw in my recent blog post about trio and quartet sonatas) accompanied by a basso continuo team. This team often comprised of cello or viola da gamba plus harpsichord, but could be varied to use the organ as well as other plucked instruments, such as a lute or theorbo.

The form of the individual movements tends to fall into two categories. Many are through-composed, meaning they have just one continuous section, often using a musical theme which evolves through the movement. The other common format is Binary form which, as the name suggests, is made up of two sections (A and B), each of which is repeated - as you can hear in the first movement of Telemann’s Recorder Sonata in F:

Later sonatas

The sonata continued to evolve through the Classical and Romantic periods - a time when the recorder was sadly all but dormant. The first movement of the Classical sonata evolved from the simplicity of Baroque binary movements into the more complex Sonata Form, which followed an expanded ternary (ABA) structural pattern.

The two sections of the earlier binary form are now combined into one opening section as two contrasting musical themes, each in a different key. This opening section of a sonata form movement is called the Exposition. This is a followed by the Development, where the themes are added to and expanded upon, followed by a Recapitulation, which returns to some of the earlier musical ideas to round off the movement. Sonata form also became the dominant form for the opening movement of many works in the Classical and Romantic periods, including concertos, symphonies and chamber music (e.g. string quartets).

This Sonata Form movement is often the centre of gravity for Classical or Romantic sonatas as it tends to be the longest movement. It was usually followed by three other movements - traditionally a slow movement, a Minuet or Scherzo and culminated with a lively finale of some sort.

The Sonata in the 20th century and beyond

Sadly the recorder missed out on Classical and Romantic sonatas, but many contemporary composers since the recorder’s revival in the early twentieth century have chosen to write sonatas for the instrument. York Bowen (1884-1961) chose to write his Sonatina (a small sonata) in a positively Romantic style, while Lennox Berkeley went for a more contemporary feel. Composed in 1939, this work is one of the first sonatas written for the recorder after its revival.

During its evolution from the renaissance canzona, to the endless variety of modern sonatas, this musical form has undoubtedly covered a lot of ground.

Do you have favourite sonatas you return to regularly, either as a player or listener, for the recorder or any other instrument? Why not share your favourites with us in the comments below - it’ll be fascinating to learn which canzonas and sonatas make it into your personal playlists!

An instrument of many different characters

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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.

The Bassanos - a dynasty of recorder makers, players and composers

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We take it for granted that we can learn more about performers, composers and instrument makers today - almost anything we could wish to know can be found via the internet. Go back 150 years and even then the most famous performers often became well known beyond their home countries, thanks to newspapers and the advent of recording techniques. But once you look back further things become hazier. International travel was less common and musicians’ fame tended to be more localised, with a few notable exceptions.

In the early 16th century an Italian family of musicians made their mark in England and much of what we know about them is because they were employed by one of our most notorious monarchs - King Henry VIII. It’s difficult to imagine the impact the Bassano family must have had on musical life in the English court, but their influence continued for nearly two centuries. No fewer than seventeen members of the Bassano family worked in the English court as musicians during the 16th and 17th centuries and even today their descendants continue working in the performing arts.

Let’s start by looking back to where it all began, in Italy….

In 1502 Jeronimo Piva and his son Jacob were employed by the council of Bassano, a town around forty miles from Venice, to maintain the town’s organs, with the perk that they didn’t have to pay tax on this income. Jeronimo was already making instruments and has been credited with the invention of the pifaro, probably a type of curtal - the bassoon’s ancestor. His instruments were highly thought of and the Bassano maker’s mark was one which indicated an instrument of high quality. It’s believed that Jeronimo was the first in his family to follow this route, but it remains a mystery as to where he learnt his skills.

The Bassano family, © Victoria and Albert Museum, London

Building the family name and the move to England

Jeronimo had six sons who were musicians and instrument makers. Four of the brothers visited England in 1531 and an entry in Henry VIII’s Privy Purse Expenses records a payment to the Bassano brothers who had played in his sackbut consort.

After a return to Italy five of the brothers finally emigrated to England and in 1540 Henry VIII granted places to “Alvixus, John, Anthony, Jasper and Baptista de Basani, brothers in the science or art of music”. It wasn’t unusual for musicians to incorporate the place they lived into their name and the Bassano name certainly became a useful trademark for them over the centuries.

It’s possible that Henry VIII’s sixth and final wife, Catherine Parr, may have had an indirect influence in bringing the family to the court. Her brother William, Lord Parr, was passionate about music and had enough influence in court to bring the Bassanos to England. When his sister married the King in 1543 she became their patron. Following the King’s death Catherine subsequently lived with her second husband near the Bassanos in Charterhouse Square.

One of the ways Henry tempted the Bassanos to return to a England was by offering appealing accommodation. They lived in the former monks’ quarters in the now dissolved Charterhouse monastery, rent free. This would have been an attractive place to live, with its own clean water supply, sewage system, laundry and brewery. Charterhouse was located just to the north west of the City so the brothers wouldn’t have had to endure the cramped and unsanitary conditions which existed within the City walls. Each brother was allocated a cell as their personal living space and Alvise converted another of the buildings for his working space to make instruments.

The location of Charterhouse in relation to the City.

The Bassanos remained at Charterhouse until 1552, when Sir Edward North took ownership of the old priory and wished to convert it to a suitably imposing mansion. After harassment from North they finally moved to new living quarters in Mark Lane, near the Tower of London. amid London’s Italian community.

Instrument makers to the King

One of the Bassanos’ main roles in England was as instrument makers. Their creations were much prized and they sold widely beyond England.

‘Instruments so beautiful and good that they are suited for dignitaries and other potentates.’ - Johann Jakob Fugger, artistic advisor and superintendent of music at the Bavarian Court.

An inventory of music at the Bavarian court from 1571 lists no fewer than 45 wind instruments with the Bassano mark, including 10 cornetti, 12 crumhorns and 9 recorders. Their instruments are also documented elsewhere in Europe, including Brussels, Paris, Leipzig, Nuremberg, Rome, Vienna and Salamanca. One of their instruments was even recovered from the wreck of the Mary Rose, which sank in 1545. Charterhouse Square was home to the French and Spanish ambassadors and other members of the Tudor elite at this time so they no doubt had a ready market for instruments of such quality beyond the royal court.

Examples of the marks which appear on the Bassano’s instruments

Research by recorder maker Friedrich von Huene in 1974 revealed that the Bassanos’ mark, similar to the shape of a rabbit’s foot, survives today on a huge number of instruments - specifically, 48 cornetti, 6 crumhorns, 8 curtals, 7 flutes, 45 recorders and 7 shawms

When Henry VIII died in 1547 an inventory was made of his musical instruments, which included cornetti, crumhorns, dulceuses, fifes, flutes, recorders, shawms and a tabor pipe, at least some of which would have been made by the Bassanos. The inventory mentions a collection of some 76 recorders. The only ones to be specifically named are four basses and a great bass, but it would be logical to assume they were made in consorts. Pitch wasn’t standardised at the time so having matched consorts would allow Henry to invite others to join him to play. Perhaps he kept a consort of instruments at each of his Royal palaces to avoid the need to transport them around?

Ultimately the Bassanos became some of the most important European instrument makers in the 16th and 17th centuries - quite an achievement from Jeronimo’s early steps in Venice. In England the golden era for the family’s instrument making appears to rest with the first generation, as only Arthur and Anthony II from the 2nd and 3rd generations respectively are known to have made instruments. 

The court recorder consort

One of the jobs Henry VIII granted the Bassano brothers in 1540 was the foundation of a court recorder consort. This was an ensemble of six players, five of whom were members of the Bassano family. It existed continuously from then until around 1630, after which the players were absorbed into the general group of wind players.

Although the recorder consort would have formed much of their work, the Bassanos almost certainly played all of the instruments they made too - cornett, crumnhorn, flute, lute, recorders, shawm, viol and sackbut. They may have been primarily employed as recorder players but they were likely to have been called upon to deputise for others from time to time as well. 

During his reign, Henry VIII greatly expanded the range of court music, with consorts of cornetti, sackbuts, viols and violins, as well as the recorders. He was a keen recorder player himself and it’s known that between 1542 and 1545 a case of walnut recorders was signed out for the King’s personal use. 

No doubt Henry already had people at court who could play the recorder, but he leapt at the chance to form a consort who specialised on the instrument and the Bassanos were unique in being described as ‘musicians’, as opposed to other less senior employees who were classed as minstrels, flutes or viols. 

The consort continued to flourish beyond the reign of Henry VIII. No fewer than seven recorder players received liveries for the funeral of Queen Elizabeth I in 1603, five of them from later generations of the Bassano family. There’s little written evidence of exactly what the consort’s duties were, but no doubt there were many calls upon them. They may have been required to provide music for the monarch’s entertainment, as well as a presence at major events such as royal weddings or the arrival of foreign dignitaries.

Life as a court musician

Pay for musicians in the Royal court was very varied. The London Waits were paid just £11 a year, but in comparison the Bassanos were handsomely rewarded because of their special skills as both players and instrument makers. Alvise is recorded as having been paid £50 a year, although wages were often paid late. By 1635 King Charles I was six months in arrears paying his musicians!

During Henry VIII’s reign musicians also received clothes or material (known as a livery) from the Great Wardrobe. The King’s Great Wardrobe, near Blackfriars in the City of London, housed the royal stores and ceremonial robes. The building was destroyed in the great fire of 1666, but a nearby church, St Andrew’s by the Wardrobe, is a reminder to this day of its existence.

By the reign of Elizebeth I practices had changed and musicians instead received money in lieu of livery, with an allowance of sixteen pounds, two shillings and sixpence paid per annum. Extra allowances were offered to cover the cost of the clothes needed for monarchs’ coronations and funerals. In 1547, for the funeral of Henry VIII, Alvise, John, Anthony, Jasper and Baptista received a suitable regal combination of seven yards of damask crimson, two yards of velvet crimson and five years of satin crimson cloth. One can only imagine how splendid they must have looked in such riches! 

One final task for some members of the Bassano family was that of composing. No doubt many of them wrote music but today fewer than twenty pieces survive from the 16th century, composed by Augustine and Jeronimo.

Later generations of the Bassanos

The Bassano family continued along dual paths, with some family members continuing to work in Venice. The English branch of the family certainly flourished and seven members of the first generation also served in the court recorder consort. Other descendants continued to serve in the sackbut, flute and viol consorts until 1665.

Beyond 1665 the Bassanos may no longer have worked as court musicians, but their musical activities and interests continued to the present day. Christopher and Richard Bassano (great gandsons of Anthony II) both sang as Vicars Choral at Lichfield Cathedral in the 18th century and Christopher’s Six Select Anthems were published in 1770. Louisa Bassano sang in the first performance of Mendelssohn’s oratorio Elijah in 1846. Then early in the 20th century George Henry Bassano, great-great nephew of Richard owned a factory in Derby manufacturing wind up gramophones which he called Bassanophones.

Moving on to the modern day, the artistic connections continue. One branch of the family by marriage (the Laniers) emigrated to Virginia in the 1650s and their family tree includes both Tennessee Williams and Quincy Jones! Here in England, Peter Bassano, a descendant of Anthony (one of the first generation of brothers who moved here in 1540) is a musician too. He was a trombonist with the Philharmonia Orchestra for 27 years and more recently has worked as a conductor with both modern and historical performance groups.

The musical genes in this notable family are evidently strong and let’s hope they continue to be part of British musical life for many years a to come!

Pitch Perfect - the journey to musical consensus

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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.