Do you speak the same language as your conductor?

The guidance of a conductor can be immensely helpful, but how often do you really think about what the person standing in front of you is trying to convey through their gestures? I work with many ensembles and orchestras of differing standards and know only too well how my movements can make or break a performance. Of course, if the musicians I’m directing don’t understand my gestures I might as well be standing there waving semaphore flags!

In this week’s blog I share with you some of the secrets of the conducting world to help you get the best from the next conductor you work with.

Image created by Chenspec

Do all conductors do the same thing?

Up to a point, yes. However, it’s important to understand that not all groups of musicians have the same needs. An ensemble of inexperienced players will probably most value a clear beat to help them keep in time. But a professional orchestra is entirely capable to playing a vast array of repertoire without needing someone to keep them in line. For them, a conductor is the person who shapes the music to their own artistic vision. A regular beat is largely unnecessary, so instead they use different gestures to indicate their musical wishes. For instance take this performance from Mozart’s 40th Symphony by Sir Simon Rattle and the Berlin Philharmonic. He barely gives the beat, instead showing the direction and shape of the music in his gestures and facial expressions.

In my working life I adapt to suit the musicians I’m conducting at any moment in time. I’m very happy to be a musical coat hanger, on which inexperienced musicians hang their beats. Equally, it’s a joy to be freed of the need to beat time and to be able to offer gestures which show my musical intent.

When I first started conducting it was a relief if I could keep a regular beat, starting and stopping people successfully. Changes of tempo were scary because I had to know in advance how I would communicate them clearly. I often made mistakes. To anyone among my readers who saw some of my early, error strewn, efforts, I can only offer my apologies! Over time I gained confidence and was able to add other gestures to my repertoire, sharing more information. I now understand that if the musicians I’m directing don’t do my bidding it’s almost certainly because of a flaw in my communication skills, rather than in their playing. It’s a sobering thought and one that means I’m perpetually on a mission to improve.


How did I learn to conduct?

If you’ve ever felt even the slightest inclination to try conducting yourself you may be interested to hear the route I’ve taken to this point. I never expected to find myself here, and I like to think I’m proof that you don’t need to be a Simon Rattle to be a useful conductor. The path I’ve followed is open to anyone - if you fancy having a go you can start with baby steps and learn as you go. Amateur recorder groups often find themselves in need of a conductor and they’re mostly very understanding towards those who are brave enough to get up and have a go.

My earliest experience of conducting was through the ear tests which were part of my music grade exams at school. The requirements have changed a lot over the last three decades, but in my time one of the tests required the candidate to conduct along with a piece of music played by the examiner. This revealed whether you could determine the time signature of the music and certainly wasn’t designed to reveal future directors of the Berlin Philharmonic! Here I learnt how to beat 2, 3 and 4 time and it helped me better understand what the conductor of our school band was doing too.

During my music college years I had choral conducting lessons with a lovely chap called Stephen Jackson, who was director of the BBC Symphony Chorus for many years. I learnt a lot in theory but found the prospect of conducting my peers utterly terrifying. Stephen once told me I looked ‘scared witless’ as I attempted to direct part of Brahms’ German Requiem! In my last year as a student I was trusted to conduct an arrangement of my own with the recorder ensemble from the college’s junior department. This was a less scary prospect and with some encouraging advice from the ensemble’s tutor I began to enjoy the experience.

From there I gradually began working with groups on courses and conducting is now a major part of my working life. If you’d told me this would happen back in those choral conducting classes I’d have roared with laughter!

Learning is all about watching and stealing!

Aside from those terrifying conducting classes at college, I freely admit most of my conducting education has come from watching other conductors in action. At concerts I’m perpetually observing the gestures they use, noting which ones have the desired effect and which don’t. My conducting technique has shamelessly been stolen from conductors of recorder groups, orchestras, brass bands and choirs!

Even watching bad conductors can be educational. I find myself noting things that don’t work, or places where the musicians are playing well in spite of the conductor. A few years ago I recall watching a brass band competing in a contest in Yeovil. They gave a creditable performance, in spite of their director who conducted the entire piece at a forte dynamic. The band ignored this, playing quietly when required despite his misleading gestures.

Learn the language of conducting

Now you know a little more about my route into the world of conducting, let’s take a look at some of the things I do to help the musicians I coach. Remember, while there are some universal gestures, others are unique to individuals. The information I share with you here is my take on conducting. Next time you’re in a rehearsal take some time to observe what your conductor does. You may pick up some useful tips which are helpful for your playing and any conducting aspirations you may have!

To use a baton or go freehand

This is a very individual one. Orchestral conductors tend to use batons, while choral directors more often employ more flexible hand gestures. I tried a baton in my earlier years but always felt I had more flexibility and control without. The important thing is clarity and it’s entirely possible to be unclear with either method!

Right or left handed

Occasionally you’ll encounter a conductor who uses their left hand to impart the beat rather than the right. In fact, many years ago I conducted left handed for a while because of tendinitis in my right shoulder and I’m not sure anyone even noticed! Does it matter? Not at all. Most people aren’t distracted by a left handed beat, but do remember that the beating patterns will be a mirror image of those made by a right handed conductor.

Deciphering the patterns

One topic on which conductors tend to agree is beating patterns. In the following video I explain the most common patterns. I also cover some tips about the quality of the beats I give.

If you struggle to spend time watching the niceties of the various patterns while playing, there are two crucial landmarks to look out for - upbeats and downbeats. The first beat of any bar will go downwards, while the final beat (whether there are 2, 4 or 7 of them) will always go upwards. If you ensure you’re always on the first beat of your bar as the conductor’s hand descends you’ll immediately stand a better chance of being on the the right beat elsewhere in the bar!

Follow my leader

As Sir Thomas Beecham once facetiously said, “There are two golden rules for an orchestra: start together and finish together. The public doesn't give a damn what goes on in between.” OK, this is a gross oversimplification, but the way we start and finish music does matter.

As I show in the next clip, there are different ways to begin a piece of music. With less experienced groups I may conduct a whole bar to set them up with the tempo, while for more advanced musicians a single upbeat might be sufficient. As you’ll see, the quality of these introductory beats is very important to ensure a clean start.

Once I’ve got an ensemble going, another important part of my job is to ensure the various parts come in at the right time. No matter how good you are at counting bars rest, it’s reassuring to see a gesture from the conductor to confirm you’re coming back in at the right time. This won’t always be an extravagant gesture - sometimes even a moment of eye contact is enough. The important thing is for me to inspire confidence in my players, so I always try my hardest to be there in their hour of greatest need. That said, as a player, don’t always rely on your conductor to bring you in - your key entry may coincide with a moment when your conductor is fighting a fire elsewhere, managing another part which has gone off the rails!

Sometimes less is more

Over the years I’ve come to appreciate how powerful a conductor’s gestures can be. Perhaps an accent will be absent because I didn’t show it in my beat. Or maybe I’ll give an extraneous gesture which results in notes played where they shouldn’t be.

The example I always give to groups when explaining this idea is the following clip from a Christmas episode of Mr Bean. Rowan Atkinson may not be a professional conductor, but the responses of the brass quartet to Mr Bean’s movements are so well observed - and so funny too!

The following is an example from a piece I conducted just last week. The accompanying voices play chords, but irregularly on just one or two beats per bar. Initially I gave every beat equally and this resulted in notes being played in the rests. When I changed my approach, making more meaningful gestures (sometimes reinforced by the left hand) on just the beats where chords are written the result was more successful.

Below you’ll see the section I’m playing above, taken from Steve Marshall’s Variations on A Chantar. You can see the irregular accompaniment, with chords occurring in a different place in each bar.

Variations on A Chantar by Steve Marshall

Conveying meaning in music

As well as showing the beat in my conducting, I’ll try to convey other information about the music, such as dynamics, articulation and phrasing, through my gestures, as I show in the following clip.

Preparation is key

If you read my blog post four weeks ago you’ll already know I’m a big fan of annotating music with a pencil. That’s especially true when I’m conducting, particularly if I’m to help others play to the best of their abilities. Score preparation is a personal thing, but for those of you who may find yourself one day conducting an ensemble it may be helpful to have a glimpse into my methods.

There are no hard and fast rules for marking up scores and my markings will depend entirely on the type of music and its level of complexity. But here are some of the things I frequently mark into my own music:

  • To start with I’ll circle things which need my immediate attention, such as speed changes and I’ll figure out how I’m going to handle pauses. Sometimes (as in the example below) I may note a particular rhythm or melody which will help remind me of the tempo I’m aiming for.

  • I’ll often write large numbers in above the score to flag up where the time signature changes. A conductor who’s beating the wrong number of beats per bar is as much use as a chocolate teapot!

  • Labelling entries with instrument names so I can give helpful leads. If several parts come in simultaneously I’ll often group them with a square bracket.

  • I’ll look out for accidentals I think players might miss. I’ve become good at predicting these over the years - after a while you gain a sixth sense about which ones will be forgotten. Of course, marking these in my score doesn’t make the musicians more likely to play them, but it does remind me to listen out for them!

  • Writing in larger bar numbers. This is an age related thing - larger numbers mean I can refer to sections quickly in rehearsal without perpetually whipping my glasses on and off!

  • Notes about articulation, dynamics, phrasing, interesting harmonies and more. Often there creative decisions I need to make, to put my own stamp on the way the music is played, introducing light and shade.

  • In a fugal piece I will often mark each entry of the theme so I can see its journey through the score.

Below you’ll see a page from Steve Marshall’s The Dream-Country, which I’m currently rehearsing with one of my orchestras. You’ll see a lot of the items mentioned above and I’ll almost certainly add more notes as we build up our interpretation of the music for performance.

Building trust between conductor and musicians

When I stand in front of an ensemble, especially in concert, I’m very aware of my responsibility to assuage any nerves, helping the musicians play to the best of their abilities. At a basic level this means I need to be utterly consistent, maintaining the beat clearly and giving leads where the players have come to expect them. Naturally, I am only human and I do make mistakes occasionally, but I try to keep them to a minimum.

For me a big part of building trust is being in eye contact as much as possible. As a player, feeling the conductor actively involved in the performance and seeing the whites of their eyes is comforting - you feel you’re in this together and the support is mutual. When people are nervous, a little eye contact and a smile go a long way!

Of course eye contact works both ways. It’s a great myth that conductors are powerful - we have as much power as you give us! I can express my musical ideas clearly through my gestures, but if the players don’t watch, my efforts will be worthless. When the interaction becomes genuinely equal the results can be truly awe inspiring.

Some years ago I conducted a recorder orchestra piece in a concert at the end of a week’s course. We’d rehearsed thoroughly so I felt confident we’d give a good performance. Things started well and we successfully negotiated the tricky corners - a combination of concentration and interaction to get everyone through their exposed and awkwardly timed entries. Then we came to the big solo moment for one of the players, which had been rock solid all week. Imagine my terror as the soloist came in half a bar early! I had a split second decision to make - bring the orchestra back in at their allotted time and hope the soloist would realise, or to just jump two beats and hope the entire orchestra would realise we’d lost half a bar. I plumped for the latter option and to my immense relief they came with me - one of those occasions when they watched like hawks and understood my gestures correctly. From there we sailed through to the end and enjoyed a huge adrenaline rush of relief as the audience applauded! The orchestra could have assumed I’d make a mistake and stuck to their guns, but the trust we’d built paid off and we lived to tell the tale.

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So there are some of my thoughts on the weird and wonderful world of conducting - hopefully you’ll have found at least one helpful nugget of information within. When you consider the concept, it’s a strange job. We stand in front of a group of musicians, waft our arms around, apparently in control of proceedings, then take all the applause when the performance is over. I hope my words help you understand it’s not all about the glory. I never take for granted the trust musicians place in me and any rehearsal or performance is the ultimate example of teamwork. Without you I wouldn’t have a job and it’s an honour to forge that sense of trust every time I conduct.

If you’ve ever had so much as a passing thought about trying this yourself please don’t hesitate to try, even if it’s just a case of gathering four friends to play some simple tunes while you beat time. Seeing the music from both sides of the fence can be simultaneously terrifying and immensely rewarding and even if you never try it a second time you’ll learn a lot. If you have experience of conducting why not share some of your tips in the comments below, or you could tell us about your finest and/or scariest moments in rehearsal or performance. Or if you prefer to remain safely ensconced in the orchestra, why not share some of the tips you’ve picked up from conductors you’ve worked with - there’s always something new to learn.

In search of perfection

Would you say you’re a perfectionist? It’s one of those terms we use as both a desired quality and a flaw. But is it something we should desire in music making?

Think about your favourite piece of recorded music, whether it’s a CD or streamed music. Is it perfect, or are you aware of flaws? I wouldn’t mind betting it’s as close to perfect as you could wish. Now consider how that recording was made. If it was created in the last fifty years, the chances the artist made a first take then re-recorded short sections which could be spliced in to cover any errors. Such practices are completely normal these days, allowing us to enjoy a ‘perfect’ performance every time we listen. But is this always a good thing?

The pianist Austrian Artur Schnabel (1882-1951) is best known today for his interpretations of Beethoven and Schubert. Indeed, the noted music critic Harold Schonberg described him as, “The man who invented Beethoven”. Maybe that’s a touch hyperbolic, but his interpretations of Beethoven were justly admired, and he was the first person to record a complete cycle of his piano sonatas. As a teenager, when I loved to tussle with the odd Beethoven piano sonata myself, I had an LP recording of Schnabel playing Sonata No.17 and I loved the spontaneity of his performance. Was it the perfect recording? Absolutely not but that mattered not a jot to me!

Schnabel recorded his Beethoven cycle between 1932 and 1935 – a time when performers were limited to four minutes of recording time (the length of a 78rpm disc) and no possibility of editing. Imagine the pressure he must have felt to play every note as perfectly as possible. Schnabel famously hated the recording process, but thank goodness he persevered. If you listen to his interpretations today they contain some flaws, but his vitality and musicality still shines through. While researching this blog post I listened again to Schnabel’s performance of Beethoven’s Sonata No.17 (a piece I learnt myself), comparing it with recordings by more recent pianists of note. Interestingly, I still enjoy the Schnabel recording, warts and all and I love the skittish nature of the opening movement. Have a listen for yourself if you’d like to.

So what does this have to do with our recorder playing I hear you ask? I would argue that the recorded music we listen to has a big influence on our attitude to our own playing, whether you’re a professional or an amateur. My audience here on the Score Lines blog encompasses a wide range of musicians - those who are just starting out, players who’ve been at it a while and can get around a piece of music with a good degree of fluency and musicality and some who perform with confidence and polish. Wherever you fall on that sliding scale, I’m willing to bet you’ve berated yourself for mistakes many times. Am I right? Of course I am!

It’s human nature to compare yourself to others, in music and all areas of life. When we listen to what we consider a ‘perfect’ performance we will often compare our own playing unfavourably – “Why don’t I sound like that?” or “What’s the point in me trying if I can’t even get all the notes right?” Is this a healthy reaction? In some ways, yes it is, if it drives us to practise more and improve our playing. But if it just makes you feel downbeat and disheartened I would argue not.

Let me tell you a story, which shows the influence a performance can have on others.

When I first taught at the Recorder Summer School the course would include a professional concert, towards the end of the week. One year we had to move it to the start of the week to accommodate the diary of our performers and it provoked an interesting reaction among our students. Many of them loved the change. They told us that when the concert was at the end of the week, they compared their own playing unfavourably with what they heard and it made them realise how little they’d improved during the course. In contrast, a concert at the start of the week inspired them to work harder to improve their playing. We now have the concert at the start of the course every year – all because of a chance diary clash years ago!

Should we be perfectionists?

There are some careers where anything less than perfection can be disastrous – a surgeon for instance – the difference between perfect and imperfect can be a matter of life and death. Are surgeons perfectionists? Almost certainly. Do all surgeons achieve perfection in their work every day of their lives? Almost certainly not!

Will anyone die if we play a wrong note or mistune that F sharp? Definitely not. But should we aim for perfection? Yes and no. As humans we’re incapable of utter perfection in anything – it’s a simple fact of life that we make mistakes. What’s more important is whether those mistakes spoil the end result and whether we learn from them.

I spent many years teaching the recorder in schools and was always amazed at the courage of the children I taught. They’d fearlessly jump up in front of a large audience and play the music they’d been diligently practising. Mistakes happened but by and large they just got on with it and didn’t fret about them. Children know from recent experience that they’ll make mistakes, but such errors will rarely cause them any long term pain or distress. Think how many times you fell off your bicycle in childhood, picking up grazes and bruises. That wasn’t going to stop you grabbing your bike and jumping back on it. You never fretted about what might happen if you met a pothole or your chain fell off. Childhood is the time when we try new things without fretting about what we cannot control.

As we grow up we begin to worry more. By the time we reach adulthood we’re doing jobs where people count on us to get things right and it seems a much bigger deal if we make a mistake. This often carries over into our lives away from work, affecting the things we do for fun.

Through my work with adult recorder players I encounter lots of people who are at the top of their game in whatever they do for a living. They know their job well and are in control, knowing they have the skills to cope with any glitches that may occur. They also clearly understand the risks of being less than perfect, whether that’s driving a bus, teaching a class of children or removing someone’s appendix.

Now put the same person into a rehearsal or concert and you’d think they’d have the same coping strategies, wouldn’t you? Maybe not. Remember that many amateur musicians come to music in later life, or perhaps return to it several decades after first learning in school. Experience of life makes their adult brains much more aware of the wrong notes and somehow those mistakes seem a bigger deal when you’re 42 than when you’re 9!

Is a musical mistake really a life and death threat? Far from it, but by adulthood we’re used to succeeding and the fear of looking foolish is larger in our minds. This fear puts many off even trying to perform and can deter some from even going along to play in an ensemble until they feel they’re ‘good enough’ and I think this is a real shame.

Yes, you should strive for perfection in your musical activities, but always remember that you’ll never achieve perfection. Try as hard as you can at whatever you do, but don’t let mistakes get blown out of proportion in your mind.

I’ve often heard a quote along the lines of ‘Amateur practise until they get something right, while professionals practise until they can’t get it wrong.’ I’ve tried and failed to find the original source for this quote, but it still contains a lot of truth. As a working professional, I certainly feel the pressure to get things perfect, but I know from experience that an audience won’t enjoy a concert less if it contains the occasional flaw.

I recently watched a televised concert from the London Palladium by the singer Adele in which she performed songs from her new album. She got a short way into one of them and stopped, apologising to the audience, saying how nervous she was. Did they hate her for this? Far from it, they loved this honesty and gave her a huge round of applause! Seeing Adele’s nerves get the better of her just made them love her even more and that in turn gave her the confidence to turn in a fabulous performance when she restarted.

 

Combatting the fear of imperfection

Put your credit card away!

Photographers suffer from all the same worries as musicians – we compare our photos to those of others and fret that we’re not good enough. A common mistake is to think a better camera or a new lens will turn you a better photographer and many people become afflicted with GAS (gear acquisition syndrome) in the search for the camera which will make their photos look like those of Ansel Adams. Does it work? Very rarely – and I speak from experience!

I sometimes see the same affliction in recorder players. They think if they just upgrade their pearwood treble to a rosewood one or buy an instrument made by a big name recorder maker that’ll make all the difference and they’ll magically sound like Frans Bruggen. I’ve heard beautiful performances played on cheap plastic instruments and awful ones coming from handmade recorders costing thousands of pounds. The truth is if you want to get closer to perfection with your playing you’re better off spending that cash on some lessons from a good recorder teacher, or simply practise in a more considered way to upgrade your mental and physical skills.

A recorder is a tool - buying a more expensive one won’t necessarily make you a more perfect player!

Make a mess and have fun!

When I was at music college my teacher used to criticise me for being ‘too neat and tidy’. It struck me as an odd accusation at the time, but looking back I can see my obsession for perfection almost certainly made my performances less exciting and rather clinical. Now I worry less about the possibility of small imperfections, placing a greater focus on taking risks to create a more exciting performance.

When you’re practising don’t be afraid to make a mess of things. First steps on any new piece of music will often be untidy and littered with mistakes but it’s all part of the learning experience. We learn from mistakes – after all, it’s the experience of falling over in the snow that teaches us to tread carefully when it’s icy if we wish to avoid injury. Wrong notes won’t inflict physical pain on anyone, but do try to remember where your mistakes were you can correct them and do it better next time.

Use your practice time to correct mistakes and seek perfection, but don’t forget to take risks. Throw in an ambitious piece of ornamentation and don’t fret that it might go horribly wrong. Some of what you try will succeed and you’ll learn how far you can take things in performance. Try playing something really fast to find your limits. If you stumble you’ll learn something and your pet cat, asleep nearby, won’t care how many times you throw caution to the wind to try something new! Some of your experiments will fail but others will be successes you can celebrate.

While running Zoom workshops on recorder technique during the Covid-19 lockdowns I realised there were some benefits to this way of working. One of my workshop’s exercises requires my students to blow a note really loudly and quietly, making a frankly awful noise, to ascertain the acceptable limits of their tone. In face-to-face workshops this tends to be somewhat tentative as people are worried about making a fool of themselves. On Zoom, with microphones muted, players were able to give it everything they had without worrying what anyone else thought and many told me they found that freeing.

Don’t wait until you’re ‘good enough’

If you’re fairly new to music making and are still at the stage of playing on your own at home, be brave and find a group to play with. Don’t wait until you’re ‘good enough’ - you’re just trying to insulate yourself from failure. If you find a group who are at a similar level to yourself you’ll be able to commiserate and celebrate your failures and successes together. If you find you’re weaker than your fellow musicians, they’ll help you lift your game, carrying you along on their wave of confidence. Recorder players invariably are welcoming and keen to see you succeed – they’ve all been there themselves, stumbling along as they took their own first steps. It doesn’t matter if you don’t play every note at first – you’ll learn coping strategies and in a few weeks you’ll wonder why you were ever scared about going along.

My partner, Kevin, started a brass band for young players on a Saturday morning. As soon as a child could play five notes on their instrument they were welcome in the band – there was no need to wait until they’d passed any music exams. At times the sound was dreadful, but the kids quickly improved, developing their musical and technical skills. Most importantly they had enormous fun! They didn’t care that their first rendition of Jingle Bells in the Christmas concert sounded a bit dodgy – the applause from the audience spurred them on to improve, even if they weren’t always perfect. Years later I watched some of those earliest band members perform to a packed audience at Birmingham Symphony Hall and their sense of enthusiasm and achievement was infectious. They didn’t wait until they were ‘good enough’  - they just jumped in and had a go!

Be a true amateur

The definition of an amateur is someone who does something for the love of it. Can you say, hand on heart, that you play every note with real love? Or do you get hung up on getting the notes right, sometimes losing sight of the real joy of music making – playing with passion and enjoyment?

“To play a wrong note is insignificant; to play without passion is inexcusable.”

Ludwig van Beethoven

Yes, do try to get the notes right, but don’t forget to consider the story you are trying to convey through your music. What mood are you trying to conjure up? Are you playing that slow melody with true feeling, or are you just content with getting the notes on all the right beats? Share your love of the music in your playing and anyone who hears you will feel it, regardless of the occasional wrong note.

Be a realist

I think musicians often feel they should be stretching themselves all the time. The classic example of this is the student who passes a grade exam and moves straight on to the next one. Most adult players have no desire to take exams, but I sometimes still see the same mentality, as they throw themselves into ever more challenging repertoire without taking time to consolidate.

We all love a challenge, but perpetually being at the bleeding edge of your technique can be demoralising. You’re always at your limit, endlessly trying to get around the notes with no spare mental capacity to think about the bigger picture. Sometimes, give yourself a break – pick an easier piece where you can comfortably manage the technical challenges. This frees you up to explore the different ways you could phrase the music, experiment with different tempi or try some more creative ornamentation.

How to deal with imperfections in performance

It’s very easy in performance to become totally focused on our imperfections – we assume the audience will hear every glitch and think less of us. In reality, many of them will slip by unnoticed. Even when an audience does hear a mistake you can be sure it won’t wreck the concert for them.

I’ve made what felt like apocalyptic errors in concerts over the years, but perhaps the most extreme was an unaccompanied piece by Anton Heberle. Midway through I had a memory lapse in a passage of arpeggio patterns. Unsure of where to restart, I explored one arpeggio, trying to give it an intentionally improvisatory air, hopeful it might lead me back to safety. No, that wasn’t the one. I tried another – still not right. Then inspiration struck – it was B flat major I was searching for! I was finally back on the right path and the music flowed easily from there to the double barline. At the end the audience applauded enthusiastically, I took my bow and retreated to the wings with a huge sigh of relief. Chatting to my Dad afterwards, we discussed the Heberle, a piece he’d heard me play many times before, and he admitted he hadn’t even noticed my faux pas. Because I’d made my explorations in a confident and musical way, he assumed it was an intentional part of the music and was utterly convinced it had been right.

The moral of the story? Always play with conviction and confidence and the audience will believe in you. Take risks and share your passion with the audience and they’ll love you even if you are imperfect.

“Practise like it means everything in world to you. Perform like you don’t give a damn.”

Jascha Heifetz, violinist.

Most importantly, if you do make a mistake, don’t let it put you off what comes next. It’s far too easy to play a wrong note and then spend several bars mentally kicking yourself for making a stupid error. During those ensuing bars you’re even more likely to make further mistakes, purely because you’re busy berating yourself rather than concentrating on the music.

Before a concert with the youth orchestra I played with as a teenager, our conductor gave us a pep talk, telling us, ”I absolve you of your mistakes.” It seemed an odd thing to say at the time but, looking back, I realise he was telling us to immediately put our errors behind us. You are human – you will be imperfect – that much is a given. Remember though, you cannot turn back time to un-make mistakes so to let them distract you, resulting in more errors is unforgiveable. After the performance is over, look back and analyse what you did wrong. Use the experience to improve your playing in the future, but don’t give it a second thought in the heat of the moment.

Performing to a packed audience in Chichester Cathedral with the Parnassian Ensemble


Embrace your humanity

There is an aesthetic embraced by the Japanese called Wabi-sabi – the concept of beauty through imperfection. These imperfections can be flaws introduced in production of an item, or simply marks accrued through years of wear and tear. As a photographer I appreciate the appeal of this aesthetic through the way I react to the buildings I photograph. I often visit old churches and find so much joy in photographing details around these ancient buildings which have over time developed a patina. These imperfections tell us others have been there before us and we can imagine the stories they could tell us.

An enchanting pew end from a Suffolk church. The marks left by centuries of being caressed by churchgoers just make me love this carving even more.

In music we all bring our own wabi-sabi aesthetic to the music we play. We are all unique individuals, bringing our own life experiences and personal strengths and weakness to our musical interpretation. At no point in our lives can we ever consider ourselves to be complete and perfect – the finished article. Over time we bring new life experiences to bear on the way we play music, and our interpretations should be part of an everchanging process. I look back to performances I gave in my younger days and know I would do them very differently now. These changes in interpretation and technique are part of my own musical wabi-sabi. No performance will every be utterly perfect, but I am perpetually on a road towards a mythical perfection I hope I might one day achieve.

I enjoyed a fascinating conversation recently with someone who’d been to the finals of the National Brass Band Championships which ties in with the wabi-sabi concept. In brass band contests all the bands play the same test piece to an adjudicator who is hidden behind a screen, so they can judge without bias. There is a big emphasis at these competitions on playing the music perfectly – avoiding errors as much as is humanly possible.

In this particular contest, there were two performances which stood out to the person I was chatting with. One followed the composer’s score to the letter, getting as close to technical perfection as possible – it turned out to be winning performance. But the second was much more dynamic, taking risks, stretching the musical possibilities and, yes, including occasional wrong notes. What really interested me though was when the person I was chatting to said if they were paying money to attend a concert, it was this second performance they’d rather see. The imperfections didn’t matter one jot – the passion and musicality were worth infinitely more.

~ ~ ~ 

So is perfectionism a good trait for musicians? I would argue one should always strive to play perfectly, practising thoughtfully and efficiently to eliminate our mistakes. However, when it comes to playing with others and in concert, you should be less focused on perfection and aim instead to communicate your love of the music to others. If that means you’re a little less than perfect, you’re just showing your humanity and it doesn’t make you any less of a musician.

What’s your attitude to perfection? Do you beaver away until you have every note polished until it shines, or are you a more spontaneous risk taker? I’d love to hear your thoughts on the subject, whether you just play for fun with friends or you’re a seasoned performer. Please do leave a comment below.

Golden rules for recorder players

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.  

Decisions, decisions…

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

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

Handel’s manuscript of his Recorder Sonata in F major

How should we make these decisions?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Select your tempo

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

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

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

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

The implications of time signatures

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

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

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

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

Turning notes into musical sentences

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

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

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

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

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

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

Adding light and shade through articulation

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

To slur or not to slur?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Taking the terror out of trills

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

What is the purpose of a trill in Baroque music?

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

A strategy for Baroque trills

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

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

Where next?

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

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

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

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

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

 

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

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


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

The importance of awareness

Think of yourself as a musician for a moment – would you say you’re a meerkat or a lion?

What do you mean, you’re neither?!

OK, this might not be a musical classification you’ve come across before, but let me explain what I mean…

Take a moment to compare these two animal species. If you imagine a meerkat I’m willing to bet you’ll picture them perched on a branch or rock, standing tall, alertly looking out for anything that might be a danger to the family group, ready to sound an alarm call at a moment’s notice.

In contrast, a lion sits at the top of the food chain. They have few natural predators so they spend a lot of their lives relaxing, snoozing on the savanna, as the world around them goes on. Yes, they’ll leap into action when necessary, to hunt down their next meal, but in general they have no need to be alert at all times.

Now think again about the time you spend playing and listening to music. Are you a meerkat; always alert, ready for anything the music could throw at you? Or are you a lion – chilled out and not paying too much attention to what’s going on?

Of course, there’s space for both approaches in music, and neither attitude suits every musician or situation. But I’d like to encourage you to find your inner meerkat more often and notice how that helps your own music making.

Let’s take a look at three areas where I think this is particularly important…

Awareness of oneself

Self awareness in music making is something I’ve focused on much more over the last year or two, largely as a result of teaching my students on Zoom during the pandemic. In a face to face lesson you can show pupils the errors of their ways more easily, often by playing a few bars with them. When playing together it’s much easier to hear when you’re rushing, or if you’re ignoring the composer’s articulation markings. Over Zoom, playing together in real time is all but impossible so as a teacher you have to rely on a student using their own self awareness to recognise the errors as you explain them. Let’s take a look at some of the areas where we all might need to increase our self awareness…

It’s not uncommon if you choose to study music seriously at music college or university to be taken back to basics during your first year. With the best will in the world, we all inadvertently develop bad habits over time. If you’re seeking to become a professional musician it pays to have a really good foundation to one’s technique and sometimes the best way to acquire this is to spend time going back to the fundamentals. For instance, when I began taking lessons with my recorder teacher at Trinity College of Music we spent a whole term working on my tone production and articulation. That meant three months mostly spent on breathing exercises, long notes, slow scales and exercises by Hans Ulrich Staeps. Maybe not the most inspiring mix, but it gave me a solid base on which to build the rest of my technique and musicianship, for which I’m really grateful.

Now I realise most of my readers won’t want to become professionals, but musicians of any level can benefit from being more aware of their playing technique. For instance, do you sit well when you play? Or do you slouch nonchalantly in your seat? Something as simple as posture can have a huge impact on your tone and general wellbeing. Many years ago, I spent time working on posture with the students in my summer school class. At the end of the week one of them came and told me that she always got backache when playing the recorder for long periods. Using the techniques I’d shared, her backache had gone away and she felt rejuvenated. Knowing my words had made such an impact on her musical and physical wellbeing made me so happy!

Now think of the other physical aspects of technique you might not pay enough attention to. Do you breath in a relaxed, open way? Are you using your diaphragm and core muscles to support your air column to produce a beautiful, rounded tone? Are your throat and face muscles free of tension, or are they tense, leading to a constricted sound?

What about your fingers? Are you a master of economy, minimising their movement, or do you flap them around with abandon? If you’re not sure, try playing in front of a mirror and look at your technique as an outsider would. This can be a very revealing experience!

OK, so I’ve got you thinking about your external technique – now turn your attention to the goings on inside your body.

Grab a recorder right now to play this simple melody and really listen.

Are you blowing right through the phrase, or do you puff in short bursts, creating a choppy line? Does your tonguing cut the melody up into small chunks. Or are you able to articulate really gently, so your tongue strokes interrupt the flow of breath as little as possible, creating a beautiful, connected melodic line? If you find it hard to answer these questions, try recording yourself. You’ll notice different things listening to your playing as a detached third party, rather than hearing the sound filtered through your own head. If you have a smartphone, try using the voice recording app for this and you can keep these short clips to compare your progress.

Just with that one aspect of awareness I’ve given you lots to think about. I would warn against trying to improve all aspects of your playing at once. If you try to develop your posture, breathing, tone production, fingering and tonguing all at once you’ll drive yourself to distraction! Instead, pick one aspect of your playing to focus on and then move on when you feel you’ve made progress.

Awareness of other musicians

I imagine you probably play with other musicians, perhaps regularly, maybe occasionally.

When making music with others, how aware are you of them? Do you listen carefully to the way they are playing and how you blend in? Or maybe you go into what I call ‘bingo mode’ – eyes down, totally focused on your own actions?

When we first begin making music with other people it’s easy to be overwhelmed. Depending on the difficulty of the music, you may be completely focused on just getting the notes and rhythms right, with no spare mental capacity to listen to others. That’s entirely understandable, but it’s important to develop a wider awareness while playing as soon as you can.

Initially, try to listen in a general way without getting distracted by the finer details. Ask yourself if what you’re playing fits with everything else that’s going on. In a lot of music, especially renaissance and baroque repertoire, you’ll be able to tell easily if you’re completely out of sync with others. I once encountered a student on a course who was a nimble player, but lacked awareness of others as she played. While she could get around the notes, if she got out of sync with others she steadfastly remained at odds with the rest of the ensemble until her error was pointed out. While she could play pretty much anything I threw at her, she was quite a destructive influence in an ensemble.

To avoid being a destructive ensemble player there are some steps you can take to improve your awareness. At its simplest, ask yourself if your pitch and rhythm matches that of people who are sharing the same part as you. Beyond that, listen to your intonation. Are your notes blending with others at the same pitch? Maybe you need to use a more positive airflow to avoid being flat, or perhaps you’re blowing too enthusiastically and are a little sharp. If you’re not sure which way to adjust, try one and then the other and see which is better.

Now you’re more comfortable adjusting your pitch and breath to blend with others, how is your articulation? Are your slurs hurrying a little? Fingers often take on a life of their own without the tongue to keep them in check. Where you have staccato and accent markings, listen to whether everyone in the ensemble is interpreting these in the same way. Of course, it may be that you are right and others are wrong, but everyone needs to be willing to compromise for the greater good sometimes! Maybe you’re rehearsing a fugue and other voices play the main theme before you do? In that case, observe the way they shape the melody line and try to emulate that, so the musical style is consistent.

As you gain technical fluency and experience you’ll find you’re better able to listen in detail to the musicians around you, analysing whether you are united in your musical approach. There will be times, especially when sight reading a new, challenging piece, when your external awareness slips, but aim to regain that awareness as soon as possible.

Awareness of the music you listen to

Through chatting to students and fellow professionals I’ve come to realise we all listen in different ways. Non-musicians will often listen to music just for sheer pleasure, letting it wash over them while not focusing on details. Teenagers frequently have an intimate knowledge of the lyrics in their favourite pop songs, but may not give a second thought to the type of harmony the composer has used.

In contrast I find myself perpetually analysing music I listen to. Sometimes it’ll be the harmony which catches my ear - on other occasions I’ll be distracted by the rhythms. You may consider this to be an affliction which takes away the simple pleasure of enjoying to music, but I’m just as capable of listening mindlessly and letting the sound wash over me!

As an example, if you’ve ever seen the film Dunkirk, did you notice the way composer Hans Zimmer sneaked Edward Elgar’s Nimrod into the soundtrack from time to time? It jumped out at me immediately but I wonder how many of my fellow cinemagoers simply enjoyed the lush orchestral score at face value? The following clip is a good example of this:

Of course, listening to music can be a wonderful tool to help improve your own playing. On a course several years ago I discussed baroque style with my students, noting the way the composer’s manuscript is just a starting point. We listened to a recording of the Scarlatti we were studying and I encouraged everyone to focus on the articulation, noting where the performers made the notes detached and where they were played smoothly. The looks of wonderment on my students’ faces made me realise that listening in this way was not habitual for them – they were used to listening much more passively.

Contemporary composers are generally quite prescriptive in their notation, spelling out exactly how they would like you to play the music. For instance, this extract by Steve Marshall, from his Sleazy Blues, clearly indicates which notes should be staccato or accented. Of course, you can still apply your own personal interpretation to the music, but Steve’s notation helps you understand where to begin.

Now compare this extract from Handel’s Sonata in F for two recorders and continuo – you can download the complete score by clicking here if you’d like to see the whole piece. Handel gives little information beyond the notes – no performance indications aside from the tempo and a couple of trills. Indeed, the original manuscript would have included even less – just a bassline with a little figured bass for the harpsichordist to work from. With early music, it’s up to the performer to make creative decisions about phrasing, articulation, dynamics, ornamentation and more.

So how do we make appropriate choices? A lot of the techniques professional performers use today have been gleaned from treatises of the period – such as On Playing the Flute, which I mentioned in my last blog post.

Of course, you can learn a lot by listening to by the performances of others. For example, take a moment to listen to the following recording of the Handel by The Parnassian Ensemble (including yours truly). Focus on the way we chose to shape the music, making some notes legato, while others are staccato. As you begin to listening more critically, you may notice the way we create dynamic contrasts and the effect the density of the harpsichord chords has in terms of highlighting important moments in the music.

I plan to talk more about the decisions you need to consider when thinking about articulation in a future blog post. But for now just listening critically will help you come up with creative ideas.

Next time you listen to any music, take a moment to listen with greater awareness. Ask yourself what you notice about the music. Is it in a major or minor key? How does the music make you feel – is it sonorous and calming, or energetic and uplifting. Listening in greater detail, note what creative choices the performers have made about the articulation they use or the dynamic shapes they make.

Naturally, there are times when you just need to let the music wash over you, but try and get into the habit of listening in a more critical way on a regular basis. You can then begin to experiment with some of these techniques in the music you play. You’ll soon find it helps bring your performances to life.

~ ~ ~

So have you decided if you’re a meerkat or a lion yet? I freely admit I’m more of a meerkat, but that’s largely as a result of my musical training. For example, I recently discovered the TV series Travel Man and became obsessed with analysing the time signature of the closing credits (16/8 if you know the series and are intrigued). I’m willing to bet most fans of the show simply enjoy the rousing tune!

I’d love to hear what conclusions you come to about your own awareness, both physically and musically. Have you had any of those eureka moments, with flashes of recognition or inspiration? Maybe you realised an errant finger was slowing you down in a fast passage, or perhaps listening to others in an ensemble helped you to become a better musician. Or maybe, like me, you smiled at the unexpected recognition something interesting hidden away in a piece of music. Please do comment below and share your thoughts.