recorder

Some of my favourite things….

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The recorder is relatively unusual in the music world in that we don’t tend to play just one instrument. After all, you wouldn’t expect a violinist to also play the cello and double bass. Yes, we usually begin on either a descant or treble (depending on your age and the span of your hands), but most players will gradually begin to explore other sizes, if only out of curiosity. How far your explorations go may depend on physical or financial limitations, but I would always encourage any recorder player to expand their horizons if they can.

In today’s post I’m going to talk about some of my favourite members of the recorder family - in particular the instruments I own and perform on. I’ve also chosen a piece played on each instrument so you can hear what they sound like.

When non-musicians learn that I’m a recorder player there are several questions I’m frequently asked, including which size I play and which is my favourite. Of course, I quickly enlighten them about the huge variety of recorders, from the tiny garklein to big basses, but choosing a single favourite is tricky. If you pushed me hard for an answer it would probably be my tenor, so let’s start there!

The viola of the recorder family

Now don’t misunderstand me - I’m not about to tell any viola jokes! I have some very good friends who play the Cinderella of the string family, and its warm, mellow sound should be heard on its own more often. The tenor recorder shares these characteristics and it’s this gorgeous tone which drew me to my own instrument.

For decades I plodded along with a Yamaha plastic tenor recorder - a fantastic instrument which plays in tune, with a lovely tone and a modest price tag compared to its wooden cousins. I knew if I were to buy a wooden tenor I’d want one which was even better than the Yamaha - and that’s tricky unless you’re willing to spend lots of money. For the amount I needed to spend I simply couldn’t justify the cost relative to the amount it would be played, so I dismissed the idea for a long while.

Many years ago I identified my dream instrument – Stephan Blezinger’s Bressan tenor. I promised myself I would immediately buy one if I ever won the lottery, but in the meantime I kept saving the pennies. By 2016 I’d almost saved enough, but the UK’s Brexit referendum conspired against me, sending currency exchange rates haywire which in turn increased the price of my much longer for tenor by another £400!

Ultimately, a conversation with my Dad convinced me to take the plunge regardless of the cost. I recall him saying something along the lines of, “You’re a long time dead - spend the money now and enjoy the instrument!” I’m so pleased I did, as my gorgeous tenor definitely has the most beautiful tone of all my recorders. Sometimes I’ll use it to demonstrate a point during a rehearsal or workshop and and I’ll see people looking up with an expression on their face which says, “Ooh, that sounds rather lovely!“ I do of course realise this is down to the instrument as much as the player!

Do I get to play very often? Well, thanks to Covid I’ve played it much more than I ever dreamt I would through my consort videos. The tenor is never going to be an instrument with a large solo repertoire, but it brings me so much joy that it was worth every penny, even if perhaps my accountant wouldn’t agree!

One of my favourite solo tenor pieces is Christopher Ball’s Pagan Piper. In 1913 Claude Debussy wrote a piece for solo flute called Syrinx, which depicts the story of the god Pan pursuing a nymph called Syrinx, whom he loves. This love is unrequited and she turns herself into a water reed so she can hide in the marshes. The story has a tragic ending as Pan cuts these reeds to make his musical pipes, thus killing his loved one. Syrinx can also be played on the tenor recorder (I’ve performed it myself) but here we have Christopher Ball’s reinterpretation of the story, composed specifically for the recorder. He subsequently also wrote a companion piece called Pan Overheard. There are definite echoes of Debussy’s impressionistic style and you can feel the influence of the water as the music effortlessly ebbs and flows.

The place where most of us started – or is it?

I imagine the majority of recorder players began their musical lives with the descant. For children, this isn’t a musical choice so much as a pragmatic one – a simple fact that small fingers find the descant an easier stretch than the treble. I’m fond of my ebony descant recorder (the one you’ll see me playing in many of my videos) but my favourite is my Von Huene Ganassi descant recorder, which I’ve had since my second year at music college. It’s made from a single piece of maple wood, is unbelievably light, yet makes the fruitiest tone I’ve ever heard from a recorder of its size.

The title page of Ganassi’s Opera intitulata Fontegara

This design is based upon an instrument kept at the Kunsthistorische Museum of Vienna and has a full two octave plus range - something which isn’t possible on all Renaissance recorders. The wide bore, with a flared bell, means the lowest notes are incredibly rich and full bodied.

I most often use my Ganassi descant for playing the music of Jacob Van Eyck. Of course Der Fluyten Lusthof was composed in the mid 17th century (firmly into the Baroque period) so this probably isn’t a historically correct choice, but I think it suits the music very well nevertheless!

Most recorder players will be familiar with at least some of Jacob Van Eyck’s music, even if you haven’t played all 150 pieces from Der Fluyten Lusthof. Van Eyck was a blind musician employed by the city of Utrecht to care for the carillon in the Dom Tower. He was paid an extra 20 guilders a year to entertain the passersby in the churchyard with his recorder and this was where he performed the sets of divisions (or variations) which were later gathered togther to form Der Fluyten Lusthof - ‘The Flute’s Pleasure Garden’. This particular piece is unusual in that it’s not a set of variations, but a single movement. I like to imagine Van Eyck standing alone in the church, playing this music, having fun as he explores the way the sound echoes off the stone walls.

Sometimes a semitone can make all the difference

Last year I wrote a blog about the standardisation of pitch and over the centuries, which you can find here. The concept of an internationally recognised Baroque pitch is a convenient one adopted over the last century or so, with A=415Hz being the most common today

My thirty year old Prescott A415 treble recorder

I was lucky enough to acquire my first A415 recorder when I was just a teenager, and I used it through most of my college studies. Eventually I succumbed to the lure of an instrument made by Tom Prescott, based on a Bressan from Edgar Hunt’s collection of recorders. It plays better than my first A415 recorder, has a beautiful warm tone and absolutely gorgeous low notes. Thirty years later this recorder is still going strong and I still love playing it.

It’s not until you’ve played a Baroque pitch recorder that you really appreciate the difference that semitone makes. Playing just a semitone beneath modern concert pitch brings such a warmth and mellowness to the tone - far more than you would expect. If you ever have a chance to try playing at A415 grab it with both hands!

Daniel Purcell is an underrated composer today, overshadowed by his brother (or perhaps cousin) Henry. He had a successful career in music though, working as organist at Magdalen College, Oxford and writing incidental music for more than forty plays in London. This movement comes from one of his chamber pieces - a trio sonata for two recorders and basso continuo - which is a perennial favourite when we’re programming concerts with The Parnassian Ensemble.

Plumbing the depths

On the face of it, playing the largest members of the recorder family might not seem that appealing. The music played by these larger instruments is often simpler, and much less whizzy than that played by the high instruments. However, if you’ve ever played a bass clef instrument in any type of ensemble or orchestra, you’ll know there’s a huge satisfaction in feeling you’re providing the foundations to the music.

Big bass recorders may not have the sheer weight of sound provided by low brass instruments, or even a cello. But even one great or contrabass recorder can add so much depth to any ensemble. In 2008 I took the somewhat odd decision to arrange a piece of Sibelius (Valse Triste) to conduct in my massed playing session at the Recorder Summer School. We already had a sizeable forest of greats and contrabasses, but when Steve Marshall doubled the first note of the contra part on his brand new subcontra, an octave lower, I swear I felt the floor vibrate beneath my feet, and a huge grin spread across my face!

I have to confess I’m torn when it comes to choosing a favourite instrument here. Both the great and contrabass recorders I play in my consort videos are on long-term loan from friends, and for that I am immensely grateful. I love the sensation of playing the contrabass in a recorder orchestra, and the Paetzold instrument I use has wonderfully resonant low notes. However, I do also have a very large soft spot for the great bass, which offers the opportunity to both reinforce the bassline and help fill out the harmonies. I think we’ll call that one an honourable draw!

The piece I’ve chosen to share the mellow tones of the bigger basses is not traditional recorder repertoire - a choral piece by the French romantic composer Gabriel Fauré. In this arrangement of Cantique de Jean Racine by Brian Bonsor the recorders sound wonderfully mellow, with the lowest voice taken by the great bass. Brian was an enthusiastic composer and arranger of music for recorders with piano, so a piece for voices and piano was a natural choice for him to arrange. I remember the year he brought it along to the Recorder Summer School (in his impeccably neat handwritten manuscript) for 150 recorders to play it with Brian directing from the piano - simply heavenly. This performance is one I conducted for the CD Bravo Bonsor!, with Brian’s good friend James Letham at the piano.

The magic of the voice flute

The largest recorder here is my Cranmore Voice Flute

My final favourite instrument today is the voice flute - a member of the recorder family, despite its name. The voice flute may be less familiar to many recorder players, but it has a unique quality which I love. Fundamentally it’s a tenor recorder pitched in D – that means the bottom note is a D rather than a C. That may seem a little quirky until you understand its musical purpose.

During the Baroque period, it wasn’t uncommon for recorder players to steal flute music for their own purposes, transposing the notes a minor third higher to fit the treble. This is all very well, but you can’t then play the same music with other instruments because of the change of pitch. Another option is to use a voice flute which shares the same range as a flute of the period. This makes it possible to play flute music at the original pitch but on a recorder.

My own voice flute is one made by Tim Cranmore about 20 years ago. The finger stretch can be a little challenging, but absolutely worth it for the gorgeousness of its tone. More recently, when playing with the Parnassian Ensemble, we experimented with using my voice flute alongside the Baroque flute in some 18th century French repertoire, and the result was just glorious!

My final piece of music does exactly what the voice flute was intended for - a beautiful borrowed Fantasia for flute and comes from my own CD, Helen and Friends. All twelve of Telemann’s Fantasias are glorious, but I have a particular fondness for this one, especially when played at the original pitch. I shared a recording of this work by Frans Bruggen in my recorder themed take on Desert Island Discs if you’d like to compare and contrast between the sound of voice flute and treble recorder!

So there you have my favourite recorders. I’m afraid I really couldn’t narrow it down to just one, as a real recorder player doesn’t specialise on just one. That’s the magic of our chosen instrument – if you fancy something whizzy and sparkly a descant is perfect. But if you’re in a mellow mood and want to explore the deeper end of things, a contrabass can be so soulful.

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Do you have a favourite size of recorder? If so, what is it about this particular instrument that draws you in so much? Please do share your thoughts in the comments below - I’d love to hear your preferences!

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.

Golden rules for recorder players

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You like to think of yourself as an individual, don’t you? We all do, but the truth is we’re far more alike than we’re sometimes willing to admit.

When I began the Score Lines blog, just a few weeks ago, I started by sharing Walter Bergmann’s Golden Rules with you. Sadly I never met Walter, but I wouldn’t mind betting he came up with his pithy comments in response to situations he encountered when working with recorder players. Over the last three decades I’ve conducted and coached groups of recorder players of all ages and backgrounds and I too have found similarities in the mistakes they make. As a result there are phrases and tips that I find myself offering on a regular basis. Granted, my ‘golden rules’ may not be as pithy as his, but I wouldn’t mind betting Walter Bergmann would recognise some of the habits I encounter among players today!

Should you worry that you’re making the same mistakes as others? Absolutely not! While we all have different tastes, skills and characters, we are fundamentally made of the same stuff - it’s inevitable we’ll share some of our faults too. I hope there will be at least one nugget here which may help you identify and iron out some of your flaws. Remember though, none of us is perfect so don’t worry if you recognise your own playing in a few or many of my points. One of the best ways we can learn is through our mistakes, so you’re just taking steps towards a new, improved you!

1.      Just wiggle your fingers and blow!

This may seem a very simplistic suggestion, but it reflects two things - our human inability to multitask and the way we tend to overthink what we do.

When working on a tricky piece of music it’s easy to be so focused on just getting your fingers and tongue around the notes that we forget to use sufficient air. As a result our tone quality suffers. I’ll often remind groups to think about their breathing and blowing as well as their fingers and it’s astonishing what a difference it immediately makes to their sound.

This isn’t the only situation where I’ll quote these words though. In lessons I often find pupils are so focused on playing every single note that they get stuck in a spiral of over-cautious, slow playing. Sometimes throw caution to the wind and have a go at that tricky passage up to speed - literally throw your fingers at the notes and see what happens! It’s a really useful way to take stock and discover how far your diligent practising has got you. Some bits will be surprisingly good, while the added burst of speed will reveal the areas which still need more work. Go on, be brave - just wiggle your fingers and blow once in a while!

2.      How long is a minim?

This is a question I often pose to groups and they look at me as though I’m asking the strangest question in the world! Of course, the answer is two beats. But how many beats do you need to be aware of when playing a minim? Then it’s three beats! Confused? Look at this graphic illustration of a minim note within a bar of four beats.

See how the minim begins at the start of beat 1 but doesn’t end until the point where beat 3 begins. Next time you have a long note followed by a rest, think about where the note ends as much as where it begins. Inadvertently shortening a long note can have a detrimental effect on the placing of what follows, especially if this shortening creates a big hole in the music. Equally, there will of course be places where you cannot hold a note absolutely full length because you need to breathe and still be on time for the next note, so this isn’t a ‘one size fits all’ tip.

3.      Very few things in recorder playing can’t be improved by breathing

One of the greatest crimes in recorder playing is under blowing. Scrimping on the air you put through your recorder produces a weedy, undernourished tone and will compromise your intonation too. Remember, recorders are designed to be played with a particular flow of air. If you put less breath than this through your instrument some notes will be flatter than others. Groups I coach never fail to be amazed how much their tuning improves when they simply put use more air. A simple thing but with huge results. It’s easy to get hung up on desperately eking out your supply of air in order to get to the next breath mark. If this results in a weak tone you simply need to find an additional place to breathe.

If in doubt, open your mouth and breathe - your recorder will always thank you for it!

4.      Finish your phrases with finesse

Do you ever have that feeling of “thank heavens I got through that phrase in one piece!”? Of course you do - we all have!

Now think about the final note of that phrase - how did you play it? Was it a much loved and beautifully shaped note, or a huge bump of relief? I bet it was the latter! Next time you’re playing, take care of all your notes - even the last one. Endings matter and a comment I once heard from a Royal Marines bandsman expressed this perfectly - “An audience can forgive anything, as long as you start and finish well and have shiny shoes”! Ok, I know (as did he) that’s a huge simplification, but you get the point. Always care about your music, right up to the last note.

5.      Feel your dots actively

Back in the days when I taught the recorder in schools I’d often ask the children how many beats a dotted crotchet was worth in this rhythm:

A common response was, “One and a bit beats, Miss”. Not quite the precise answer I was hoping for, but it’s an approach I see in adults too. Of course, the correct answer is one and a half beats (unless you’re counting in 6/8, that is) – but how to do you count that half beat?

Most people understand the need to count ‘1, 2 and’ where the and is the quaver that follows the dotted crotchet:

However, in my experience, all too often musicians don’t feel that second beat actively enough. As a result, the quaver occurs in a somewhat nebulous timeframe, rather than precisely a beat and a half after the dotted crotchet. The solution to this problem? Simple – just feel the second beat more actively. Do this and you’ll know exactly where the quaver needs to be placed, then your rhythms will also knit together precisely.

6.      Dotted notes and ties shouldn’t feel nauseous

Those of you who’ve worked with me in person know this is one of my favourite bugbears. If I had a pound for every dotted or tied note which had an ungainly bulge in the middle I’d be a millionaire. The reason this happens is because you’re feeling the rhythm and that is no bad thing. However, take care to feel the dot or the tie in your head, not through your breath. By all means allow your tone to build through a tie or dotted note, but do it with a progressive intensification rather than a nauseous lurch! If you’re not sure whether you have this bad habit, try recording yourself playing music which contains some of these patterns (the voice memo app on a smartphone is handy for this) and you may find it surprisingly revealing….

7.      Always sight read at full speed

This is a piece of advice I was given by a fellow conductor many years ago which is absolutely true. When I run a new piece with a group of musicians I always begin at full speed. Yes, there will be plenty of wrong notes and other blunders, but it plants the correct speed in their minds. First impressions are important - think about the way we judge people based on first encounters. The same applies to music. If you start off slowly your brain will always remember the slower tempo. But if you jump in at full speed, warts and all, you’ll remember that and it’ll it easier to work back up to full tempo as you practise.

8.      Are you watching carefully?

I know I’m not the only conductor who berates groups for not watching the beat closely enough. No doubt the practice of ignoring the conductor has been going on since we moved from thumping a stick on the floor to waving a stick in the air. But do you really need to watch every move the conductor makes? Actually, no!

In an ideal world I’d love it if you watched me like a hawk, taking in every little gesture thoughtfully created to help you play the music. But that sort of attention requires you to all but memorise the music and we all know that’s unlikely to happen. Instead, try putting your music stand at a height where you can see the music clearly but where you can also see your conductor in your peripheral vision. Next time you practise, take moment to focus on your music and note how much of your surroundings you are aware of at the same time. Yes, whatever’s in your peripheral vision isn’t clearly in focus, but trust me, you really don’t need to see me in perfect clarity! Just being aware of the movement of the conductor’s beat will help you keep better in time, and you can look up when necessary to take in other gestures.

 9.      Breathe in sympathy with the music

Imagine you’re about to play a fast piece of music – what body language clues do you expect to receive from whoever’s leading your ensemble? Almost certainly, a brisk lift of their instrument and a speedy intake of breath. How about if they move gently and take a leisurely breath in? I’m willing to bet you’d expect a slower tempo.

The way we breath when playing has a huge influence on our playing and the musicians with whom we play. Next time you practise, try taking different speed breaths and note how it encourages you to play the music differently. A slow breath implies a relaxed tempo, while a sharp intake of breath suggests something more dynamic. While you’re at it, do breathe in time with the pulse during the music and you’ll almost certainly play more rhythmically.

10.  Don’t fight your recorder!

All too often I hear recorder players doing battle with their instrument.

On a Baroque recorder your bottom notes will naturally be soft, while the higher registers are louder and more piercing. You want stronger bottom notes? Try a Renaissance recorder, whose bore is wider at the bottom, resulting in fruitier low notes. The downside? You may have to sacrifice the ease of the highest notes. Every recorder is a compromise and this is the price we pay for choosing an instrument which hasn’t evolved significantly since about 1750.

Of course, not all composers understand this. We’ve all come across pieces where a bottom note is marked forte or a composer who demands a pianissimo top note. Instead of trying to force your instrument to achieve the impossible, I would encourage you to be sympathetic to your recorder and allow it to sing to its best ability.

Let me share a practical example with you….

Last week I rehearsed my recorder orchestra in a piece which ended with a piano low F played by the contrabasses, while the rest of the orchestra followed on with a chord above that. Players of big basses spend a lot of money to buy their instruments – effectively paying for the low notes other recorders cannot reach. Of course you want value for money, so I wasn’t surprised when my contra section gave that bottom F all they had, going for a full on fruity sound! Was it a pleasant effect? Frankly, no! Instead I encouraged them to soften their faces and throats, breathe deeply and blow in a gentle, relaxed way. What a difference! Suddenly we had a beautiful, warm but piano tone which didn’t set my teeth on edge. Even better, the instinctive reaction of the rest of the orchestra and their murmurs of approval showed they liked it too! As soon as the contras played their bottom F in its sweet spot, rather than trying to make it bigger than was practically possible, the effect was glorious.

My advice to you is to think about what is realistic and pleasurable when playing the recorder. Yes, you may not achieve the dynamics the composer demands, but the result will be much more enjoyable and your notes will sound better. Use a slower, gentle airflow for low notes to make a sweet, relaxed sound. For higher ranges plan ahead and be ready to use faster moving breath so your notes speak with ease. Play with sympathy for your instrument (and remember different makes and models of recorder have different needs) and you’ll play more beautifully.

11.  Don’t be afraid of high notes

My clarinet teacher used to tell me that high notes need to be tamed in the same way you would train an over-eager dog. Rather than being hesitant, showing your fear, you need to be confident and assertive, showing them who’s in charge! The same principle applies to the recorder.

How often do you see a top note looming on the musical horizon and feel a cold stab of dread in your heart? What happens when you get to the note? I imagine you may well tense up, blow tentatively, tongue the note for all you’re worth and jam your left thumbnail into the hole in desperation. The result? If you’re lucky, a tight, squeezed tone and if you’re not, a complete disaster!

Here’s a better strategy….

Breath deeply beforehand, so you have plenty of fuel to create the faster airflow high notes demand. Think about just how fast the air needs to go before you hit the note – plan ahead. Tongue gently – high notes are far more likely to split if you hammer them out with force. Finally, think about your left thumb position. Open the thumbhole a small amount. Open it too far and the note will fail entirely, but close it too much and you’ll get a rough undertone. Better still, regularly practise plucking high notes out of nowhere – that way you’ll learn the needs of your instruments so you can find them with ease in the field.

12.  Make your conductor happy by using your pencil!

If there’s a sound that makes me happy it’s the clink of a pencil being placed back on a music stand. Does this make me strange? Well, that’s for you to decide! Seriously though, there’s absolutely no shame in writing on your music if it helps you play better.

I write things on my music all the time. I know from experience that if I don’t, I’ll forget crucial details and will make mistakes. My rule of thumb is if I’ve made a mistake more than once I need to write a reminder in my music. Doing so ensures I don’t have to think so hard about the basics (accidentals which continue through the bar, the breakdown of tricky rhythms etc.) and instead I can focus on real music making.

I have a fascination about the way the human brain works and have recently read several books on the subject. It surprised me to learn that our short term memory is a minute or less. That means if you make a mistake while practising but then carry on to the end of the piece you may well have forgotten what that mistake was by the time you come to write a reminder in your music. Instead, stop straight away and make a note of that missed accidental, or incorrect rhythm.

One of the ways we move patterns and actions from short term to long term memory is by repeating them. If you continually come back to that same accidental and play it wrong you are repeating and compounding the error. After a while the mistake gets stored in long term memory. We all know from painful experience that bad habits are harder to shift than creating new good habits. Unlearning an error is more difficult than learning it correctly from the start as you are having to overwrite an incorrect memory with a new correct one. If my audience includes any neurologists you may well be cursing me for oversimplifying this complex subject by now. However, if my explanation helps even one musician play more right notes I make no apology!

While we’re here, please don’t write cryptic symbols in your music. Instead use words or symbols you’ll still understand in a month’s time. I once asked a pupil of mine what the exclamation mark written above a note in her score meant and she had to admit she couldn’t remember! If she’d used an accidental or a word whose meaning was obvious she’d have avoided making the same error over and over again.

 

So there you have a dozen of the things I find myself saying to recorder players everywhere on a regular basis. No doubt others will spring to mind as soon as I publish this week’s blog, but I hope these tips will at least make you think and help you play better.

Do you have any handy hints and tips you’d like to share with our recorder community? It doesn’t matter how large or small they are - if they help you they’ll help others too! Please do share your thoughts in the comment below – let’s see if we can all learn from each other.  

Desert Island Discs - the recorder edit

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One of the benefits of doing more face to face work again is being back on the road much more. I find this time, alone in my car, is the perfect opportunity to think and I cook up lots of creative ideas there. The only downside is the inability to write anything down - if inspiration strikes I have to hope that great idea sticks in my head until I reach my next stop! Today’s post is one such idea, germinated during a long drive to Wales last month, while listening to a repeat of Desert Island Discs featuring the late Charlie Watts, drummer of the Rolling Stones.

Photo by Bastian Pudill

I’ve often wondered what I might choose as my ‘Desert Island Discs’ if I were to be invited to share them. Of course, I’m under no illusion that I’d ever be interesting enough to be asked, but I’m sure we’ve all had similar thoughts as we’ve listened to the show. For those who aren’t familiar with the BBC Radio 4 programme of the same name, in each episode a well known figure is asked to choose the eight discs they’d take with them if they were shipwrecked on a desert island, along with a book and a luxury item. Hearing their thoughts on why they’ve chosen particular pieces of music is fascinating and often very revealing too.

For my take on Desert Island Discs I’m going to focus solely on music with connections to the recorder. Some of my tracks feature the instrument centre stage, while in others it’s a team player. I will say up front that in the unlikely event of me being invited to do this for real, my selection would be rather different. It changes from year to year, but would undoubtedly include an eclectic mix of the Elgar Piano Quintet and a Shostakovich Symphony, alongside The Beatles’ Penny Lane, something by ABBA and definitely some Bach. No one ever said a recorder player’s listening diet has to be limited solely to early music!

I’ve tracked down videos of all bar one of my choices today (so you can hear and see them without having to search), but in the interests of staying true to the programme’s original concept, all are also available as digital downloads or CDs.

So let’s get cracking…

Disc 1 - Telemann Fantasia No.3 in D minor, performed by Frans Brüggen

Telemann Recorder Sonatas and Fantasias, Frans Brüggen, Anner Bylsma & Gustav Leonhardt, Warner Classics 1993

I’m sure Frans Brüggen is a hero to many recorder players. A leading light in the early music revival of the 1960s, he quickly became known as a virtuoso on recorder and flute, performing both early music and avant garde works. By the 1980s he’d made a shift into conducting, and continued directing orchestras until the year before his death in 2014. I soon learnt about Brüggen’s exquisite playing when I became serious about the recorder in my teenage years. At the age of 16 my parents took me to a concert he gave with harpsichordist Gustav Leonhardt at Eton College and this just increased my hero worship of him. I went backstage afterwards to ask for his autograph and still have the Selma Canzona he performed (which I was learning at the time) with his signature inside the cover.

I could have chosen any number of Brüggen’s performances and I came close to picking the Telemann Concerto for recorder and flute, which was a favourite during my student years. However, discovering this video of him playing the third of Telemann’s Fantasias confirmed my choice.

Frans Brüggen was a tall man and always preferred to play sitting because he felt this better suited the intimate tone of the recorder. A completely valid choice, but show this video to any recorder teacher and you’ll have them harrumphing about his appalling posture! Posture aside, his playing is elegant, stylish and absolutely effortless - I dream of one day having finger technique that minimalist! Of course, this choice also covers a composer I couldn’t leave out of my Desert Island Discs - Georg Philipp Telemann. A recorder player himself, his music effortlessly treads that line between being playable and utilising all the potential of our favourite instrument. Ironically, this is originally a flute piece, but it’s often stolen by recorder players - myself included.

Disc 2 - J.S.Bach - Cantata no.106, Gottes Zeit ist die allerbeste Zeit

Bach “Actus Tragicus”, BWV106 & BWV21, Ton Koopman & Amsterdam Baroque Orchestra and Choir, Challenge Classics, 2008

I just had to include something by the genius of J.S.Bach in my list, although it took a while to narrow down my choice.

Bach composed this glorious cantata at the tender age of 22 for the funeral of Adolph Strecker, former Mayor of Mühlhausen. Written for singers plus a small instrumental group of two viola da gamba, two recorders and basso continuo, it feels so intimate. The opening recorder parts are uniquely written, beginning in unison before winding sinuously around each other, creating delicious passing discords. I was lucky enough some years ago to play alongside one of my students in a performance of this cantata at St. Luke’s Church, Chelsea, playing to hundreds of children who’d been invited along from local schools. It was such a luxury to be able to work on a piece like this with a school ensemble and one I will remember for years to come.

Disc 3 - Paul Leenhouts - Report upon “When shall the sun shine?”, performed by the Amsterdam Loeki Stardust Quartet.

Extra Time, Decca Records, 1990

One of my first encounters with the Amsterdam Loeki Stardust Quartet was a Sunday morning coffee concert they gave at the Wigmore Hall when I was a teenager. I clearly recall listening to them, awestruck at their impeccable ensemble and flawless tuning. Never before had I heard a recorder ensemble so perfectly in tune - they sounded like a immaculately tuned pipe organ. Formed in 1978, the ALSQ’s reputation was boosted three years later at the Bruges Early Music Competition. Pushing the boundaries of the rules of a competition intended for early music, they performed this unusual take on Stevie Wonder’s song, You are the sunshine of my life and were rewarded with first prize!

A decade later I played with a recorder quartet while studying at Trinity College of Music and we used the same piece to enter the Students’ Union chamber music competition – the only competition the college’s recorder players were then eligible to enter. We had such fun preparing for the performance and gave it everything we had. As we waited for the results, the brass players we’d competed against stood around the hall, looking utterly confident they’d done enough to secure first place. Imagine their shock when we snatched first prize from under their noses! Although we don’t often play together now as a quartet, the four of us remain firm friends and this recording couldn’t help but make me smile on my desert island.

Disc 4 – Anthony Holborne - The Fairie Round performed by David Munrow and the Early Music Consort of London

Instruments of Middle Age and Renaissance, Erato 2007

Have you ever wondered whether alien civilisations (if indeed they exist) play music or what they might make of our own earthly music? Back in 1977 NASA scientists launched the Voyager 1 and 2 probes into space, to explore our solar system, using a unique alignment of the planets that year to slingshot them deeper into space than any manmade vehicle had previously travelled. Before they sent the probes on their way, the scientists decided each one should carry a record made of gold plated copper, containing sounds and imagery of life on Earth. Alongside sounds from our natural world, the discs include a selection of music, from traditional tunes from around the world, to popular and classical music. One of these pieces is Anthony Holborne’s galliard, The Fairie Round.

Holborne’s collection Paueans, Galliards, Almains and Other Short Aeirs, published in 1599, is a wonderful musical resource, often used by recorder players, and I frequently delve into them. Some of the dances are particularly special, and with The Fairie Round Holborne was wonderfully imaginative in his use of rhythm, creating an endlessly shifting combination of duple and triple rhythms.

Learning that this particular dance is winging its way into outer space caught my imagination and I find it intriguing to think that one day, perhaps in millennia to come, an alien civilisation may discover it and learn about their interstellar neighbours. At the time the gold discs were made David Munrow and his Early Music Consort of London were leading players in the early music revival. With changes to the way we interpret early music today and developments in playing techniques, modern performances of The Fairy Round may be more polished, but I felt this was the performance that needed to join me on my desert island.

Of course, the Voyager golden discs are a snapshot in our own planetary time, sharing music and sounds we felt was representative of Earth back in 1977. I wonder what might be included on an equivalent disc today – what would you include?

Disc 5 – Brian Bonsor Tango, performed by The Amici Recorder Ensemble and James Letham.

Bravo Bonsor! Performed by The Amici Recorder Ensemble and James Letham, conducted by Helen Hooker, 2012

The record choices of the BBC’s desert island castaways, spanning some eight decades, are remembered for different reasons. The author PL Travers, for instance, chose to take no music at all – just spoken word recordings, while poet Ian MacMillan picked the sound of silence, selecting John Cage’s famous (or infamous) 4’ 33”, where the ‘music’ is created solely from ambient noise at the time it’s performed. However, one castaway, the soprano Elisabeth Schwarzkopf, is notorious for having chosen seven of her own recordings. I don’t have a large enough catalogue of recordings to do this but I am going to have a moment of self-indulgence, selecting just one track I participated in!

When Brian Bonsor passed away in 2011 the Society of Recorder Players chose to celebrate his life by commissioning a CD of his music. Brian was Chairman of The Recorder Summer School for a time and it was he who invited me to join the tutoring team in 1993. Naturally, I said yes and the course has played a huge part in my working life ever since. I owe Brian a debt of gratitude for having faith in my abilities as a tutor, fresh from college, and have many happy memories of working and playing alongside him. I was of course thrilled when the SRP invited me to oversee the recording project and I carefully chose an ensemble of players who would rise to the occasion, including pianist James Letham, who was a close friend and colleague of Brian and his wife Mary.

When it came to selecting music for the CD, there was a vast array from which to choose, from solos to recorder orchestra pieces. One piece immediately went to the top of my shortlist – Brian’s Tango. It had long been a favourite of mine, and one of my school ensembles had recently performed it in Chichester Cathedral. To my delight Mary told me it had always been Brian’s favourite too and that sealed the deal! Brian could often come across as a rather serious character, but much of his music reveals a sense of fun and an encyclopaedic knowledge of different musical styles too. In the Tango, Brian reveals a passionate streak with this emotional Spanish dance which never fails to make me smile and want to dance. Maybe my sojourn on a desert island will be the moment I finally learn to dance, with Brian’s Tango as my soundtrack…

Disc 6 The Fool on the Hill, performed by The Beatles

Magical Mystery Tour, Parlophone, 1967

One of my other musical hobbies as a teenager was playing the guitar. I never studied the classical repertoire, but learnt folk guitar at primary school and kept it going when I moved on to secondary school. The guitar group at my high school was run at lunchtimes by my English teacher, one Mr Pering, who was a huge Beatles fan. His enthusiasm for the fab four rubbed off on me and I soon found a love for songs like Penny Lane and A Day in the Life. Of course, one of their songs, The Fool on the Hill, features the recorder heavily and it was always going to feature on my shortlist here.

Paul McCartney plays the recorder on this track and has subsequently used the istrument on some of his solo albums too. Admittedly, the playing may not exhibit a polished professional technique, but it has the perfect feel of joyful abandon, and it never fails to make me smile.

Disc 7: Antonio Vivaldi – Concerto in C, RV443 performed by Dan Laurin

Vivaldi Recorder Concertos, Dan Laurin and the Drottningholm Baroque Ensemble, BIS 1993

Vivaldi was an astonishingly prolific composer, writing over 500 concertos for a wide variety of instruments. A number of them feature the recorder and RV443, in C major, is perhaps the best known. More often played on the sopranino recorder, for this disc Dan Laurin chose to perform instead on the treble and I think the mellower tone brings added depth and beauty.

I bought this disc when it was released in 1993 and was blown away by Laurin’s charismatic playing and his utterly gorgeous ornamentation in the slow movements. With this as one of my desert island discs it would perpetually inspire me to be more creative in my playing. I’ve picked the C major concerto for its heartbreakingly beautiful Largo (to be found at 3 minutes & 45 seconds in the video above), but I’d also recommend you explore the C minor concerto, RV441 too(also included on this disc), which is one of his finest.

Disc 8: Louis Prima – Sing, sing sing performed by the Flanders Recorder Quartet and Saskia Coolen

5 [Five] - Flanders Recorder Quartet with Saskia Coolen, Aeolus Music 2017

I just had to finish with some unashamed fun and I think this fits the bill perfectly. The recorder isn’t best known for being a jazz instrument, but the Flanders Quartet show here that it can be a perfect fit in the right hands. This jazz standard dates back to 1936 and became closely associated with clarinettist Benny Goodman and his big band (you can find his version here for comparison). I defy anyone to resist the infectious energy and sense of fun in this video from the quartet’s recording session!

To complete the full Desert Island Discs experience of course I also need a book at a luxury, so here are my recorder related choices…

Book: Johann Joachim Quantz – On Playing the Flute

Faber & Faber

Choosing a single book to take along with me to the desert island was a tricky one. There are plenty of books about the recorder but I wanted something which would keep me entertained and stimulated, both musically and intellectually. On Playing the Flute is an invaluable resource for anyone who plays Baroque music and I feel sure it would provide me with inspiration for a long while.

Although Quantz, wrote this with flautists in mind, it contains vast amounts of information which is transferrable to any instrument of the period. He talks about the mindset required to be a musician, the physical demands, how to practise efficiently and he shares endless advice on techniques, musical style and ornamentation. I have to confess I have yet to read it from cover to cover, but often dip in for advice on specific topics and I recommend you do the same. If you’ve never come across this book before, I can wholeheartedly recommend Sarah Jeffery’s introduction, where she picks out salient points and some her favourite highlights.

Luxury: Bressan tenor recorder by Stephan Blezinger

Many years ago I tried one of Stephan’s beautiful tenor recorders and knew that one day I wanted to own one. I struggled for a long while to justify buying a really good wooden tenor when I balanced how much I would use it against a rather large price tag. Instead I persisted with a Yamaha plastic tenor which was very good, but not hugely inspiring.

In 2017 I finally gave into temptation and purchased a Blezinger Bressan tenor at the Early Music Festival and I’m so pleased I did. While based on a Bressan original, Stephan’s interpretation of the design includes beautiful keywork, which makes it a comfortable instrument to play. It’s long, wide bore offers me wonderfully full and fruity low notes, while the top register sings effortlessly – a tenor recorder player’s dream! There may not be a vast solo repertoire for tenor recorder but there’s absolutely no reason why I shouldn’t play Telemann Fantasias, Vivaldi Concertos, Debussy’s Syrinx or anything else on my instrument during my desert island life – after all, no one apart from the birds will be listening!

So there you have it – my recorder themed Desert Island Discs. If I were to reconsider in a few months time I might well choose differently, but it’s snapshot of my recorder related musical choices in 2021.

I’d love to hear what you might pick for your desert island companions. Would you pick just recorder music, or might your choices be more eclectic? Do click on the comments below and share your ideas – it’ll be fascinating to hear what you’d take with you.