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!

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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.

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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.

Desert Island Discs - the recorder edit

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.

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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.

Cracking the code

Knowledge is a funny old thing. Once you learn about a subject you forget there was a time when you lacked this knowledge. Equally, it’s all too easy to remain unaware of the things you don’t yet know!

Through my work with adult recorder players I encounter amateur musicians from all walks of life, many of whom are very knowledgeable about a myriad of subjects. Over the years they’ve picked up snippets of useful information about the music they play, but this knowledge is often peppered with holes. Whereas children have no fear of asking questions, adults will often hold back for fear of looking foolish, even if this might help fill some gaps in their understanding. The irony is, other people in the room will almost certainly also be thinking, “I wonder what X, Y or Z means” but will also be too afraid to ask the question!

A recent conversation with an adult pupil made me think about all the little pieces of information which are handy to know when tackling Renaissance music. I’m as guilty as any teacher of sometimes assuming a level of knowledge among those I work with, forgetting to mention details which seem obvious to me. Today’s blog post is my attempt to help you fill in some of these blanks in your knowledge. If even just one of the things I cover here brings you an ‘aha’ moment, it will have been worth it!

To illustrate the subject, my examples come from the Victoria Motet I recorded and shared a few weeks ago, but all of the topics here are applicable to other pieces of Renaissance music. When you’ve finished reading, why not dig out another piece from the period and see which of them you find there?

Let’s begin with the basics….

What is Renaissance music?

Fundamentally, it’s music composed between roughly 1400 and 1600. The transition between musical styles is never an overnight change, but a gradual shift. There were composers at either end of the Renaissance who were either still composing old fashioned music, which owed more to the medieval period, or forward thinkers, leaning towards the Baroque style before it became mainstream. If I mention the names Gabrieli, Palestrina, Lassus, Tallis and Byrd I’m sure you’ll all be nodding in recognition, having played music by at least one of them.

For the purposes of this blog post I’ll help you understand the notation in modern editions of Renaissance music. Learning to play from facsimiles of old manuscripts can be fascinating, as it reveals the sort of notation Renaissance composers would have been familiar with. If I were to cover that here too though we’d be looking at an article of epic proportions. Instead I’ll limit the scope to modern editions of the sort offered by publishing houses like London Pro Musica and many others.

An example of Byrd’s music in its original published notation

What’s in a name?

These days the voices in a piece of recorder music are generally labelled with instrument names – for instance tenor recorder, great bass recorder etc. This is because most music from the Baroque period onwards was composed with a specific instrumentation in mind. Previously this was a more flexible concept. For instance a Renaissance canzon could be played by a variety of different consorts - viols, recorders, cornetts and sackbuts or even a mixture of these. As a result composers tended to use a more general naming procedure. For instance, you might have a four voice piece with parts labelled Cantus, Altus, Tenor and Bassus. In recorder terms this would almost certainly fit a classic quartet set up of descant, treble, tenor and bass recorders.

So what if a Renaissance composer wanted to write a five part piece? Easy – you add a fifth part and call it Quintus! Likewise, a sixth voice will often be labelled Sextus. Logically you might assume these parts would be added at the bottom of the score, but that would be too simple. Instead, composers simply inserted the additional voices where they thought they fitted best. In this Victoria Motet the Quintus part is the second line in the score, but in Anthony Holborne’s dances it’s the third line. Ultimately it doesn’t really matter – the crucial thing is to ensure you have the right size of recorder playing each line.

Before we consider who plays what, let’s now take a look at the information which often appears at the beginning of a score, as that contains some useful clues.

Be a musical detective

Given that part names don’t necessarily tell you which instrument you should play, you sometimes need to play detective to figure things out. There are two important pieces of information to consider here – clefs and instrument ranges.

If you look at a modern recorder quartet score (SATB) you’ll notice the clefs in the descant and bass parts have a small 8 above them. This means these instruments sound an octave higher than the printed pitch of the music. Treble and tenor recorders play at the printed pitch, so what you see is what you hear. If you check the clefs in the Victoria, the top and bottom lines lack these little 8s but instead they appear beneath the clefs of the Altus and Tenor lines – indicating the music here sounds an octave lower than printed. Don’t fret about this, but bear it in mind once you’ve followed the next clue.

The opening of the Victoria Motet, showing clefs, the pitch range of each part and the time signature

Now take a look at the two notes shown before the time signature – these show the lowest and highest pitches played by each voice. These give a big clue as to which instrument you’ll need to pick up. The Cantus line shows a range from the A below the stave, to the D a little over an octave higher. At first glance this range won’t fit on a descant or treble recorder, but don’t let that put you off! Now consider these notes an octave higher and you’ll find they fit perfectly on a treble recorder – low A to high D. If you do the same with the Quintus part you’ll find it also fits the range of a treble recorder. Looking now at the range of the Altus and Tenor parts, they fit the tenor recorder like a glove. The clef for these lines indicates the music should sound an octave lower than printed, but by using a tenor recorder you’ll negate the 8 symbol and, like the treble parts, you’ll be playing them an octave higher. Finally, the Bassus part fits the range of a bass recorder perfectly and the notes automatically sound an octave higher than notated.

When you pick a new piece of Renaissance music, take each voice, look at the range of notes and ask yourself which recorder best fits this range. Sometimes there may be a choice of two instruments which could work – for instance, descant or treble. In this situation you just need to decide whether the part would be more comfortable played low down on a descant or higher in the range of a treble – often there’s no absolute right answer here.

Before I move on, it’s worth noting that the lines best played on a treble recorder in Renaissance scores, like this one, will need to be played an octave higher than written. Sometimes the editor will be kind and provide separate parts which are written out at the correct playing pitch - as is the case with the Victoria. Not all editors are this helpful though, so it’s worth practising this skill ready for the occasion when you have to do it at sight in a rehearsal. I know many players find octave reading challenging, so it’s a technique I will return to in a future Score Lines blog post.

It begins like this….

The Latin word Incipit means ‘it begins’ and it also happens to be the name used for the information often shown at the start of a modern Renaissance edition. This gives a little glimpse of the notation the editor transcribed from the original source, be it the composer’s manuscript or a published edition from the period.

Take a look at the incipit from the Victoria and you’ll see the following pieces of information, from left to right:

The Incipit from our Victoria Motet

• The original part names. Sometimes an editor will modernise these – here they’ve been retained unchanged.

• The original clefs. Renaissance musicians must have been adept at playing from multiple C, G and F clefs. Today recorder players are most at home in treble and bass clefs, so editors will usually change these to suit our needs.

• The original key signature. In the case of the Victoria, the piece was composed in one flat and the editor has transposed the pitch of the piece a fourth lower. Renaissance music will often transfer easily to recorders, but in some cases the music fits the instruments better when transposed up or down to a different pitch.

• The composer’s time signature or mensuration sign – I’ll explain more about this momentarily.

• The first few notes or rests of each part.

These pieces of information won’t always impact the way you play the music, but it’s interesting to see how the composer started the piece and to have a glimpse of Renaissance notational styles.

What pulse should I feel?

In modern music the time signature gives us a very clear idea of the rhythmic patterns within. The top number of a time signature tells us the number of beats in each bar, while the lower one indicates the type of beats (4 for crotchets, 8 for quavers, etc). Sometimes the letter C is used instead of a pair of numbers and I’ll explain why in a moment. Of course, it wasn’t until the mid-16th century that composers began to use bar lines and it wasn’t until the mid-17th century that our modern concept of barlines and time signatures became the norm.

Prior to the use of time signatures, composers included a mensuration sign, which indicated the underlying rhythmic patterns of the music, leaving performers to read the notes and figure out the shapes for themselves without the assistance of barlines. Modern editors often lend us a helping hand by converting this to a time signature and adding barlines to the music. These are a great crutch for those getting started with Renaissance music, but barlines often influence the way we play the music as we apply our modern concept of the first beat of each bar being the strongest. Playing from unbarred music can be strangely freeing, allowing you to judge the rhythmic patterns for what they are, without the constraint of barlines.

Many musicians are unaware of the direct connection between the old mensuration signs and modern time signatures so let’s take a look at that now.

The purpose of a mensuration sign was to help the performer understand whether the music was predominantly in two, three or four time. Music in three time was indicated by way of a circle, known as tempus perfectus - a reflection of the perfect Holy Trinity.

Music in four time was known as tempus imperfectus, and the simplest way of showing this was by way of an imperfect circle – one with a bit missing. Take a small chunk out of a circle and you’re left with a letter C – the symbol we still use today for common or four time! So how to show two time? Simple – cut your C in half with a vertical line and you have the symbol we use today for cut-common, or 2/2 time.

Our Victoria Motet has four minim beats in each bar, despite a time signature apparently indicating two….

Now let’s take another look at the Victoria. The time signature is what we, as modern musicians, would consider to be 2/2 time. Look closer though and you’ll find four minims in each bar - not what we expect. Renaissance music is generally notated in very white notation – mostly minims and semibreves with very few black notes, such as crotchets and quavers. Once you bear this in mind, it then becomes evident that the time signature simply indicates two beats rather than two minims – on this occasion it’s actually two semibreve beats per bar. Of course, if you choose to continue feeling a minim pulse while playing you’re entirely at liberty to do so!

Notes and rests

Before I close, it’s perhaps also worth mentioning a few of the less frequently seen note and rest values which appear in Renaissance music.

Most recorder players are familiar with minim and semibreve notes and rests but if your comfort zone is the Baroque or beyond may not have encountered breves. A breve is twice as long as a semibreve (which literally means half a breve) and in most modern editions is indicated with a squarish shaped note. The equivalent length rest fills the space between two of the stave lines – as you can see in the first bar of the lower part in this example.

Minim, semibreve and breve rest symbols

A much less common note value in modern music is the longa, which appears as a breve with a stem. In Renaissance notation this can last twice or three times as long as a breve, depending on the prevailing pulse and pattern of beats. In practice, more often than not a longa will appear at the end of a piece (as it does in the last bar of the Victoria below) so it simply becomes a long note – the Renaissance equivalent of a pause, if you like.

The longa appears as a breve with a tail

What else would you like to know?

While this is by no means an exhaustive guide to Renaissance music and its notation, I hope it has perhaps answered some of your questions. Hopefully you’ll now be able to tackle new pieces with more confidence, selecting the right instruments for each voice and knowing how to interpret the time signatures and note lengths.

As far as I’m concerned, there’s no such thing as a stupid question. Next time you’re uncertain about some aspect of the music in a rehearsal, be brave and ask your question – you can be sure there’ll be someone else in the room who’ll be really grateful you piped up because they’re wondering about the same thing! In the meantime, I’d love to try and help you straight away, so do leave a comment below with your queries and I’ll do my best to have an answer for you. Just remember, no one knows absolutely everything about music, so look upon anything you don’t know as an opportunity to learn!

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Looking for the latest in my Recorder Consort Music Downloads? Click here and you’ll find this week’s music and video - a quartet ‘minus one’ version of Alessandro Scarlatti’s Sonata in F for three treble recorders and continuo.

Welcome to the Score Lines blog!

It’s been a huge pleasure and privilege to see recorder players worldwide using my consort videos during the Covid-19 pandemic. I’ve made so many new friends and have been blown away by the warmth and generosity of the recorder community. As we gradually emerge into something closer resembling normality I will continue creating new videos, but I also want to broaden the resources I offer as the virtual consorts are needed less. As part of this process I have created this blog to share other material - that may be new editions of music, advice on technique, repertoire recommendations and general musical musings. It will take a while for this new project to get going so I’m going to start off with the words of another recorder player.

Walter Bergmann (1902-1988) was a German musician who worked in his home country as a lawyer. In 1930s Germany his efforts defending Jewish clients were frowned upon by the authorities and in 1939 he escaped to England with a suitcase of books, music and his flute, followed soon after by his wife Greta. His law qualifications weren’t valid here, so instead he decided to pursue a career in music. Through a job working for the publisher Schott, he met many influential musicians, including the composer Michael Tippett and the countertenor singer Alfred Deller. He worked with both men and was instrumental in the revival of early music.

Bergmann started teaching a recorder class at Morley College in London and his interest in amateur recorder playing led to the post-war reformation of the Society of Recorder Players in 1946 and the foundation of the Recorder Summer School in 1948 - both of which still thrive to this day. His activities in the recorder world introduced him to generations of players and those who met him speak of his musicianship and dry sense of humour.

When directing amateur groups he came up with many witticisms and in 1957 a collection of them was published in the Recorder News (predecessor to the Recorder Magazine). Many years ago I was gifted a large pile of these magazines by Edgar Hunt and derived great amusement from his sayings. Many are clearly ironic observations of activities he witnessed while working with amateur recorder players, but a good number have a lot of musical sense in them. Most recorder players will have come across a few of Walter Bergmann’s Golden Rules for Ensemble Playing but I dare say some will be unfamiliar. Naturally, I find myself quoting them to groups I work with and over the years I have come up with new ones of my own - no doubt content for another blog post one day soon! For my inaugural post though, I couldn’t resist sharing the list from that 1957 publication with you, for your amusement and education.

1.      Play the same piece

2.      Stop at every repeat sign and enter into a lengthy palaver whether to repeat or not.

3.      The most essential part in an ensemble is the other one.

4.      If you play the wrong note give one of your partners a dirty look.

5.      Keep your fingering chart handy; you can always catch up with the others.

6.      Tune carefully before playing, then you can safely play out of tune the whole evening.

7.      Take your time turning over: see No.5 above.

8.      An ornament should be an embellishment and not an embarrassment.

9.      Your conductor has been paid for. You waste your money if you don’t look at him.

10.  Aim for the highest n.p.s. (notes per second).

11.  A right note at the wrong time is a wrong note. The opposite is of course also true.

12.  Spare the breath and spoil the tune.

13.  If all the others are wrong and you alone are right, follow the wrong.

14.  All forte and piano marks, slurs, dots above, below and behind a note etc. are not to be observed. They are only decoration for the eye made by frustrated engravers.

15.  If a passage is difficult, slow down; if it is easy, speed up. In the long run it all evens out.

16.  If you have lost your place in the music irretrievably stop everyone and say, “I think that you need to tune again”.

17.  Blessed are they who have no perfect pitch, for theirs is the kingdom of music.

18.  Have the answer ready: “I always play in tune because I play a Bressan (Coolsma, Aulos, Dolmetsch, von Huene, Koch, Koenig, Schott, etc.) recorder”.

19.  When, thanks to you, the ensemble has had to stop, explain lengthily why you made the mistake. Everyone will be most interested.

20.  Do not follow the conductor (be together with him).

21.  Like the trill on the upper note, vibrato always (?) starts on the upper frequency.

22.  Use historical evidence as some people read the Bible. They pick out what suits them and omit what does not conform with their preconceived ideas.

23.  An authentic interpretation is achieved when not a note of the original remains.

24.  Be careful in selecting an edition. In a good edition a forte stands at the beginning of a fast movement and a piano at the beginning of a slow one. Breath marks stand over rests, but are omitted where they could be helpful. Prefaces are essential. They make the performance of the piece complete unnecessary and sometimes even undesirable.

25.  Shakespeare’s advice to recorder players:

·       A rest is silence (Hamlet).

·       My foot my tutor (Prospero).

·       My kingdom for a semiquaver (Richard III)

26.  Thou shalt not play the little bit left over at the end

I’m sure we can all associate with some of these ‘golden rules’, no doubt recalling some of our own bad habits. As a teacher I find his advice on ornaments and use of breath (numbers 8 and 12) to be very true, but as a conductor I often wish more people would remember number 20 when they’re playing behind my beat!

I’d love to know which ones resonate most with you. Are there any you find yourself quoting from time to time? Maybe you have your own ‘golden rules’, or perhaps you’ve encountered gems from conductors you’ve worked with? Please feel free to share your thoughts in the comments section below.

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Looking for the latest in my Recorder Consort Music Downloads? Click here and you’ll find this week’s offerings - a version of the tune Browning by Elway Bevin (c.1554-1638) and three new Bach Chorales, along with all my earlier offerings!