A brief history of tempo

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We all wrestle with the concept of tempo from time to time. Does a given piece of music need to be fast or slow? Are we capturing the speed and character the composer had in mind when they wrote it? Where did the markings we see on our music come from and how should be interpret them?

What is tempo?

Fundamentally, tempo is the speed at which music is played. Every piece of music has an internal pulse holding it together – think of it like your own heartbeat. Sometimes a slow pulse is best (your resting heart rate while you’re sitting still, relaxing); at other times a quick pulse creates a sense of drive and excitement (just as your heart rate rises when you become more active).

So how do we know which speed of pulse is appropriate for any piece of music? Some composers are very explicit in their instructions, but often you need a little knowledge of musical history or be willing to do some detective work. Notation has changed a lot over the centuries, so an appropriate speed for the music of one period will be completely unsuited to repertoire from a different era.

Let’s take a look at how tempo has been notated through history and consider what this means for our own playing.

The Renaissance 

Introducing the Tactus

Without time signatures and barlines, the earliest forms of music used a different  type of pulse to that indicated by a modern conductor. The rhythmic focus in Renaissance music was called the tactus - a unit of time indicated by the raising and lowering of the hand (to help the musicians keep good ensemble) and music began with a mensuration sign. This indicated how the tactus would be split, be it into two or three subdivisions. This tactus may have generally been close to the resting heart rate (a speed of which all humans have an awareness) perhaps 60 - 70 beats per minute, but historic sources aren’t consistent on this subject. Each tactus indicated the main beat (often a semibreve) which would be divided into either two or three minims, depending on the mensuration sign.

This is why much renaissance music is written in minim beats. To our modern eyes it often looks slower than other music, but to Renaissance eyes the type of notation helped indicate the tempo. As music became more complex the number of note values expanded to include smaller notes (our crotchets and quavers) to allow for faster music, but the tactus fundamentally remained the same. If you’re interested in learning more about the tactus and how it was used this video explains it very well:

So where does this leave us when we have to select a tempo for Renaissance music? The historic sources we can refer to are conflicting, so it often comes down to common sense and our own musicality. Here are some tips to help you:

Context

Look at the music and observe the types of note values it contains. Is it mostly semibreves and minims? If so, a semibreve pulse may be appropriate. On the other hand, if the music breaks down into smaller note values (crotchets and quavers) perhaps a minim pulse would be better. 

Some music editors (particularly in older editions) try to be ‘helpful’ by halving the note values, turning minims into crotchets and so forth. For musicians who aren’t used to feeling a minim pulse this may be helpful, but the downside is the entire piece looks faster. Where once you had quavers you now have semiquavers. To inexperienced musicians that can look scarily fast, causing then to choose a pulse which is too slow to compensate. I know many musicians find counting in minim beats tricky, but it’s a skill you should persevere with learning because it opens up a vast array of music to you. Of course, if you ever choose to play from facsimiles of Renaissance publications reading minim (or even semibreve) beats is a must.

Below we have the same Byrd Fantasia in two different editions, The first uses Byrd’s own note values, while the second halves the note values to try and make it easier to read. Of course, this process also makes the music look quicker!

Vocal music

Do consider the text in the music you’re playing. Is it a cheery madrigal which demands a lively approach? Or perhaps it’s a melancholic love song where a slower tactus might be more appropriate? If you don’t speak the language used in the lyrics, set aside some time to Google the composer and title of the piece and find out what it’s all about. 

Dance music

Here we have more clues to work with - the type of dance. A Pavan is a stately dance (although not necessarily very slow), while the Galliard is livelier, requiring the dancers to hop and leap in the air. I’m planning a future blog post looking at the different dance styles, but in the meantime the internet can once again be your friend. Most dances have a page on Wikipedia where you can learn more about the style and typical dance steps. This knowledge should inform your choice of tempo.

Switching between duple and triple time

Renaissance music often shifts between two and three time, but how do you know what to do with the tactus when this happens? 

Look at many modern editions of Renaissance repertoire and you’ll often see a marking suggesting the length of the triple time bars should be equal to half a bar of the preceding time signature. This often creates a satisfying mathematical connection between the sections. If you refer back to treatises from the period you’ll find some recommend exactly this approach, while others advise making the whole bar length equal in both duple and triple time. One would hope there might be a clear notational way of showing which is correct in any given piece, but you’d be disappointed! This is one area where there was no notational consistency so my advice would be to try both and see which feels right to you. Sometimes the pragmatic approach is best…

Gabrieli Canzon Primi Toni, with an editorial suggestion regarding tempo relations at bar 44.

The Baroque

By the time we reach the Baroque period composers began adopting time signatures and bar lines consistently (there is inevitably an overlap with both being used around 1600), so the notation looks more familiar to our twenty first century eyes.

Use of language

Another new development was the use of language to indicate the tempo. Italian is the most common choice, but composers of other nationalities sometimes used their own language. It’s worth remembering that the Italian musical terms we’re familiar with today didn’t necessarily have the same meaning in the 17th and 18th centuries. For instance, in Romantic music Vivace is often interpreted as very fast, but for Baroque music it tends to imply a lively tempo - somewhere between quick and slow. 

The concept of a unifying pulse hadn’t entirely disappeared and the term Tempo ordinario (often used by Handel) may well relate to a human’s normal walking pace. Other words used to describe tempo are intended to direct us to a speed relative to this consistent tactus, be it faster or slower.

Italian is not the only way…

Italian may have been the most common language for tempo indications, but it wasn’t universal. Many French composers used their own language and some of their terms are more expressive than their Italian counterparts - for instance Doucement (sweetly) and Gracieusement (graciously - as in the example by Hotteterre below).

Henry Purcell used Italian words in many of his works, but sometimes he used straightforward English words like Brisk and Slow, leaving the musician to figure out just how fast or slow that should be. In many of his Fantasias you’ll also find the word Drag written in places where he wishes to slow the tempo.

The influence of a time signature

Another way Baroque composers indicated the speed of a piece was through their choice of time signature. Explore the recorder sonatas of Telemann, for instance, and you’ll see that slow music is more likely to have a time signature where the lower number is a 2 - indicating a slow minim pulse. In contrast, music with a time signature where the lower number is 8 is generally played quickly. He uses both in his Recorder Sonata in C in exactly this way.

Telemann Sonata in C, 3rd movement

Telemann Sonata in C, 4th movement

Dance music

Dance forms were just as popular as during the Renaissance, although the dance types inevitably evolved over time. Here again, a little knowledge about the dance types should inform your understanding of the appropriate tempo, but bear in mind the composer may not have actually expected anyone to actually dance to the music if it appears as part of a sonata or concerto.

I saw a practical example of this many years ago at a competitive music festival where one of the set pieces was a Sonata in A minor by Schickhardt. The second movement is marked Allemanda and most of the competitors chose to play it at a swift tempo. This gave the music a breathless feel and many of the youngsters struggled with the semiquaver passagework. To illustrate a more appropriate tempo the adjudicator, Evelyn Nallen, got everyone on their feet and had us all dancing an Allemande together. The dance steps fall on the quavers beats so when we related this back to the Sonata, the music suddenly felt much more poised and playable. I think everyone there that day learnt an important lesson! 

Schickhardt Sonata in A minor, 2nd movement

Harmonic tempo

In Baroque music one of the most important musical elements is the bassline. So much of the period’s music is led by the harmony, so if you only look at your own part you risk missing out on some crucial musical clues.  

Take this Telemann Recorder Sonata, for instance, whose Cantabile marking suggests a singing style more than a tempo. Many players, when reading just the solo line, will select a very slow tempo, feeling a quaver beat, to make the faster notes easier. Now check the bassline and what do you notice? The majority of the harmonic movement falls in crotchet beats. Feeling a quaver beat means each bass note is very slow and it becomes almost impossible to retain a sense of pulse and movement in the continuo line. Instead, choosing a slow crotchet pulse (perhaps 54 beats per minute) allows the bassline to flow more easily, while the faster moving recorder part can still sing without being manically busy. 

Telemann Sonata in C, 1st movement

This is just one example, but you’d be wise to consider all the musical elements before selecting your tempo. Harmonic tempo is a tool composers use in different ways to influence our understanding of the music. As we learnt when we explored the subject of hemiolas, these were often used as a means of speeding up the rate of harmonic change to flag up the ends of phrases. If you missed it, you’ll find that blog post here.

The Classical and Romantic

Beyond the Baroque, the recorder lost popularity and was largely ignored as a musical instrument until the early years of the 20th century. However, it’s worth taking a look at music of this period as it directly influences tempo markings in today’s repertoire.

Beethoven Symphony No.9

Perhaps the biggest development was the invention of the metronome by Johann Maelzel in 1815. This allowed composers complete clarity in their speed markings. One of the earliest adopters as Ludwig van Beethoven, whose first use of a metronome speed came in 1815 in his Cantata Calm Sea and Prosperous Voyage, Op.112. Beethoven’s fast tempi have inspired much debate over the years as to whether a disagreement between him and Maelzel resulted in the metronome’s inventor providing him with a faulty one. However, we also know from Beethoven’s own correspondence that he regularly had his metronome calibrated so it’s like he really did intend his fast speeds. 

If you’re intending to play a piece which has a metronome mark I would treat that as something to aim for, but don’t be disheartened if the indicated speed is beyond you at first. If you have to opt for a more cautious speed initially and work up to it that’s absolutely fine. A musical performance which gets close to the composer’s metronome speed is always preferable to a scrappy, panic stricken interpretation which adheres slavishly to the marked tempo! 

One trap I often see students falling into is when they look at the tempo markings which appear on many metronomes. For instance, yours might suggest that a marking of Allegro should be played somewhere between 120 and 168 beats per minute. Do remember the correct speed can vary enormously and the best pulse will depend on the type of rhythms and the notation. In my experience I’ve almost always found the markings on my metronome to be distinctly unhelpful and bearing no relation to the music I’m attempting to play, so I generally ignore them and follow my musical instincts instead! 

Expressive use of language

Of course a metronome mark is only one part of the equation when it comes to showing a composer’s musical intentions. Speed is one thing, but as Romantic music became ever more expressive it was often necessary to give further information. Composers often augment their tempo words with additional terms to add a greater sense of expression. One of my favourites is Brahm’s instruction in his second Clarinet Sonata which marks the first movement as Allegro amabile - lively and friendly!

Brahms Clarinet Sonata Op.120 No.2

Some composers take these additional markings to extremes. In his 9th Symphony Gustav Mahler marks the second movement as Im Tempo eines gemächlichen Ländlers, etwas täppisch und sehr derb. If your German is as minimal as mine and you’re wondering what on earth that means, he intended it to be played as a slowish folkdance (like a Ländler), with some awkwardness and much vulgarity! 

Tempo today

That brings us to music from the 20th and 21st centuries where, one could argue, we have the best of all worlds. With metronome marks and the ability to translate any language easily with modern technology, composers can typeset their music with ultimate clarity. 

Paired with all the other possible expression marks (dynamics, phrasing, articulation etc) it’s easy to wonder how much autonomy we actually have as performers when composers specify so much detail. Should we ever deviate from those markings in the process of creating our own performance? Don’t forget we still have control over many aspects of our music making, including how flexible we are with the tempo - those little nuances of rubato which are unique to each of us. And some composers are still remarkably flexible about their creations. One composer I’ve worked with many times is very practical with her music and is often open to tweaks which might lead to a more fluid performance. 

A composer’s prerogative to change their mind

Of course, composers can sometimes change their minds about what they’ve written. One example of this can be found in Rachmaninov’s Piano Concerto No.2. As well as being a composer, Rachmaninov was a superb performer and conductor and recorded this piece twice with Leopold Stokowski and the Philadelphia Orchestra in 1924 and 1929. In his own performances you’ll find subtle changes to the tempi, notably accelerandi, which aren’t notated in the score. He also chose to shape the second musical theme in a way which isn’t shown in the score.

You could argue these are spontaneous and unimportant changes, especially as there was no way for recordings to be edited at the time. However, Rachmaninov also worked on the piece with Willem Mengelberg and the Concertgebouw Orchestra over a decade earlier and the conductor’s impeccably annotated scores concur with these changes.

These recordings are a fascinating glimpse into the mind of Rachmaninov the composer and performer and at least show us that no piece of music can be a rigid and unchanging entity. If only we had the chance to time travel in the same way and find out how composer/performers of earlier periods interpreted their own music!

So where does this leave us when we have to make our own decisions about the music we play? Ultimately I think we have to be practical and pragmatic. Yes, we should observe any instructions left by the composer, and if there are none we must be willing to find out what was expected via historical sources and online resources. Sometimes though decisions have to be made which allow us to create a musical performance. 

There will be times when our own technical limitations stop us following a composer’s intentions to the letter. Does that mean we shouldn’t attempt to play that piece of music? I would argue absolutely not! The majority of musicians in the world are hobbyists, playing for their own enjoyment. Holding back from even trying a piece of music potentially deprives us of the opportunity to explore new music. Sometimes you need to have a go, even if that means playing the music slower or faster than the composer intended, knowing you’ll gain something from the experience, regardless of whether we’re ultimately capable of honing the notes to performance standard. Yes, do research the piece so you know what you should be doing, and then throw caution to the wind and enjoy the moment as a true amateur - someone who plays for the sheer love of music!

The Technique Zone - Exploring the extremes

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The recorder isn’t what you’d call an extreme instrument. Playing one doesn’t require huge reserves of stamina like a concert pianist or the astonishing coordination between hands and feet demanded from an organist. But the recorder has its own challenges - it’s an instrument which requires control and delicacy. Orchestral wind instruments have been developed and adapted over the centuries, adding keys and making tweaks to improve them. In contrast, the recorders we play most of the time are based heavily upon instruments crafted 250 years ago.

The nature of the recorder brings limitations – a smaller range than many other wind instruments, and weaknesses in the extremes of this range. Our low notes can only be played gently, while the upper reaches of the recorder are best played with a fuller tone. Good composers will write music which works with these limitations, making the most of them, but it’s still up to us to ensure we can play with confidence throughout the range.

This edition of the Score Lines blog is designed to help you learn to love your recorder’s low and high notes and I have tips and advice to get you playing these ranges with confidence and consistency.

Are there notes which fill you with dread?

Maybe you fret about playing low notes cleanly? Or perhaps your jaw clenches with nervousness as a top F appears on your musical horizon? We’ve all experienced moments when we’ve mentally crossed our fingers (doing so physically would be problematic), taken a deep breath and said a silent prayer to the recorder playing gods that a given note will speak cleanly. Go on, admit it, you’re quietly nodding in agreement, aren’t you?!

My aim today is to equip you with the tools to play the extremes of your recorder’s range without mental or physical tension, so you can play any note with confidence and consistency. I can’t promise instant results, but if you persevere you’ll get there…

A bad workman blames his tools…

There is a degree of truth in this old saying, but it’s worth giving your recorder a quick MOT, nevertheless. With a little care, all recorders will play low notes with ease, but high ones can be another matter. The majority of instruments are capable of playing the highest notes cleanly, but if you persistently have problems they may be exacerbated by your recorder.

The usual culprit is the thumbhole – take a quick look at yours now. Is it perfectly round, with clean edges? If so, you’re good to go. On the other hand, if it’s distinctly mis-shapen, with evidence of wear and tear on one side it may be time to give it some TLC. Worn thumbholes usually come about as a result of overenthusiastic thumb technique – digging your nail into the hole in an attempt to produce clean high notes. Of course, if you’re not the instrument’s first owner that may not be down to you!

Fortunately there’s a solution to this problem - thumb bushing. A good recorder technician will be able to add a small ring of hard wearing material (these days it’s plastic, although historically ivory was often used) to the edge of the thumbhole to restore the clean, round opening. I would recommend this if your recorder’s thumbhole is looking ragged – you may find it solves some of the challenges. Of course, I would also recommend you consider modifying your technique so the same thing doesn’t happen again!

While you’ve got your recorder handy, also take a look at the labium, the opening on the front of the headjoint, just beneath the windway. Is the edge of the labium clean and straight? A labium edge with dips or nicks will affect your sound, often adding a husky quality. Many years ago a pupil of mine had trouble with top notes so we sought advice about her recorder. On close inspection the repairer noted the labium had a distinct dip (created by years of jabbing a finger in there while blowing out excess condensation) and this had an adverse result. Sadly this particular recorder was beyond repair but it did at least explain the dodgy top notes.

Now you’ve (hopefully) given your recorder a clean bill of health let’s dive in and do some extreme recorder playing!

How hot is your breath?

Before we tackle our recorders’ extremes, let’s have a think about the breath you use to play these notes. This is relevant to both high and low notes so it’s a good starting point.

Hold your hand in front of your mouth and breath out gently, noticing the sensation you feel on the skin of your hand. Is the air warm or cool? If you’re exhaling gently the air will be warm. This is because it takes time to travel through your windway, picking up warmth from the blood vessels it passes over. This is the sort of breath you need to use for low notes.

Now blow out over your hand again, this time moving the air quickly. You may find it helpful to purse your lips to focus the stream of air and help it increase in speed. What do you notice now? The air is cooler, isn’t it? Because it’s moving more quickly it has less opportunity to pick up heat from your body and it’s still cool when it leaves your mouth. This is the type of air you should use for high notes.

Thinking about warm and cold air can be useful when you begin exploring the extremes of your recorder, because using the wrong type of airstream will make it harder to play these notes. If you want to relate these temperatures to the way you use your diaphragm, warm air requires just a gentle level of support, while cool air demands a firmer squeeze of the stomach muscles to acquire the extra speed. If you need a refresher on diaphragm breathing for recorder playing take a look here.

Logically, low notes shouldn’t be difficult. All you have to do is cover the holes and blow, right? Yes, that’s true, but there’s more to it than that! It’s important to consider the ingredients needed to create a lovely low note on the recorder. There are three required to bake this particular cake…

  1. Fingers – this is the obvious one – if you don’t cover the holes fully the note won’t play.

  2. Breath – you need gentle (warm) air for low notes

  3. Articulation – tongue strokes need to be gentle

Diagnosing fragile low notes

If your lowest notes often split or refuse to speak cleanly you need to do some detective work to understand why. Let’s look at the three ingredients I mentioned just now…

Go gently…

Not completely sealing the fingerholes is a common problem, especially if you’re playing a larger size of recorder. Take a moment to make sure your bottom joint (assuming it’s adjustable – some descants and sopraninos have fixed footjoints) is in exactly the right position for your hands. I often have to make tiny adjustments to the position of the footjoint with my tenor and bass recorders. Without doing so the bottom notes become unreliable because I fail to seal the holes entirely. There’s no reason why you shouldn’t make a small pencil mark on the back of the middle and bottom joints to help you line them up accurately and get the position right every time.

Now play the lowest note on your recorder and see what happens? Perhaps that small adjustment made a difference. If not, try again but blow more gently – remember, you need to use warm air. If that made a difference, maybe you’ve been blowing too strongly. The lowest notes on most recorders are weaker than the rest, so they need to be treated gently.

Still no luck? Let’s try taking the third ingredient away and see if that resolves the problem…

Think about how you would clean a pair of glasses – trust me, this is relevant! I wouldn’t mind betting you bring them to your lips and breathe gently over them, creating a mist on the lenses which you them wipe away with a cloth. Am I right? I call this ‘hurring’. Now try your lowest note again but begin it by ‘hurring’ into the windway. By doing this you’re taking away the articulation – the breath comes straight from your lungs without interruption from the tongue. What’s more, the flow of air is warm and gentle.

If this approach successfully helps you produce clean low notes, now try reintroducing the tongue, articulating using a gentle ‘doo’ articulation. If you tongue too forcefully the fragile low notes will crack – don’t try too hard! Try moving the tip of your tongue a fraction farther back in your mouth, increasing the distance between it and your teeth and softening the articulation a little. I wrote about gentle articulation in relation to playing smoothly in this blog – you may find it a helpful refresher.

Relaxation is crucial

Hopefully these techniques will now have you playing low notes more easily. There’s one other element which is key for all recorder playing and that’s relaxation. If you’re tense your body works against itself, using energy which could be better employed for other things. This is particularly important when it comes to your fingers. Aim to keep them relaxed at all times, using just enough pressure to seal the holes and no more. Remember, if you’re pressing too hard you won’t be able to feel the vibration of the air column beneath your fingers – use this to guide you. I covered this in a recent blog about finger technique so do take a look here.

Scaling the heights

Now let’s consider the recorder’s highest notes. The pitch may be different but the principles are remarkably similar. Once again there are three ingredients to ‘bake’ successful high notes…

  1. Thumb position – for high notes just one of your digits is critical – the thumb

  2. Breath – for successful high notes you need a fast (cool) air flow

  3. Articulation – this should be moderate – there’s no need for strong tonguing

Finding your thumb’s Goldilocks zone

The exact technique used to open the thumbhole to create upper register notes is a much debated topic among recorder teachers. Some teach their students to ‘pinch’, inserting the thumbnail into the hole to open it cleanly. Others prefer ‘rolling’, where you use the flesh of the thumb and a smaller movement. I won’t go into this in detail here (there’s plenty of material there for a blog post of its own), but if the technique you use works well then why change it?

The critical element to consider for high notes is how much you open the thumbhole. You’re searching for the Goldilocks zone - not too open, not too closed but just right! Look at most recorder fingering charts and you’ll see a half-filled circle to depict an upper register note. This may work for the first few notes, but once you reach two fingers with a pinched thumb you’re destined for failure with a half open thumbhole. Instead, open the hole just a fraction and your chances of success are much greater. Some recorders are more sensitive than others, so it’s often a case of getting to know your instrument(s) well and learning their foibles.

Of course, it’s all very well knowing your thumb isn’t in the right position but how do you know whether the hole is too open or too closed? Fortunately there’s an easy way to find out! It’s tricky to explain in text, so take a look at this short video clip where I explain the technique, complete with sound effects…

Don’t forget the breath and tongue

For many people getting the right thumb position while pinching can solve their problems, but it’s worth considering the other ingredients too.

In contrast with the lowest notes, high ones need fast, cool air to make them play. I find it’s best to consider the speed of your breath, rather than simply thinking, “I must blow hard!” Try to avoid bracing yourself for high notes. So often I hear players take a deep breath immediately before the high note which concerns them, before launching themselves at it with all their might. If the note comes out at all it’s likely to be overblown and tense.

Instead, your strategy is best compared to riding a bicycle up a steep hill. If you stop halfway up (the musical equivalent of breathing and bracing before a high note) it’s hard to get your momentum going again and the hill feels even steeper. You’re better off pedalling like fury at the bottom and the momentum you build up carries you up and over the summit. The musical equivalent is to breathe earlier and use your stomach muscles and diaphragm to get the air flowing swiftly before you really need it. This flow of breath carries you through and beyond the high note (providing you get your thumb position right) which will sing much more easily.

As for articulation, don’t tongue explosively. Use a moderate ‘doo’ articulation and trust that the breath and correct thumb position will do most of the heavy lifting. Providing your air stream is quick enough even the highest notes don’t require strong tonguing.

The elusive fourth ingredient…

Assuming you’ve found the right combination of thumb position, breath and tonguing to play your high notes there’s one more ingredient which will help you – a combination of confidence and self belief! If you approach high notes with a glass half empty attitude, assuming it’ll all go horribly wrong, there’s a good chance it’ll become a self-fulfilling prophecy. Playing tentatively often results in underpowered, broken top notes.

Instead, go into those higher registers with a positive attitude and total conviction - you’re much more likely to find the right speed of breath and articulation. Your tone will be fuller, the high notes have a greater chance of sounding well and you’ll gain confidence from your success. If it does go wrong, at least you’ll have given it your best shot and, as I often tell my students, if you’re going to make a mistake, do it with style and panache!

If a high note does fail, try to analyse what you did wrong – was your thumb position wrong, or perhaps you didn’t use fast enough breath? Use this as a learning experience and don’t be afraid to make mistakes. You are human (a species not known for its perfection) and no one will ever come to physical harm from a split note!

Be persistent

My final piece of advice is to be persistent. Don’t get into a negative frame of mind and give up - that way you’ll never conquer your fears. Keep practising and those elusive notes at the extremes of our instruments will come to you. Here are a few quick tips which I offer to all my students, which are equally applicable whether you’re soaring through the upper register or plumbing the depths…

Relax! Tension is the enemy of all recorder players. Wiggle your shoulders to loosen the knots, take a deep breath and exhale with a big, soulful sigh. Allow your cheek and throat muscles to go soft and flabby so your breath can reach your recorder unimpeded. The only tension you need is in your diaphragm and stomach muscles!

Slow down and don’t try so hard. Human nature dictates that when we fail we tend to try harder and faster. This is almost always counterproductive, so instead stop, take a deep (relaxed) breath and begin again slowly.

Keep a recorder handy at all times. The best way to improve a skill is to practise it little and often. If that top F eludes you on the treble recorder, keep an instrument out at all times (a plastic one can be handy for this), preferably left in a room you use a lot. Every time you walk by, pick the recorder and play the note(s) which need practice for twenty or thirty seconds. Hopefully you’ll end up doing this multiple times every day and the frequent repetition will be so helpful. Sitting down for a long practice session can seem daunting, but these frequent small bursts are easy to fit in on your way to the kitchen or before you walk the dog. Trust me - little and often really does help!

These tips should give you the tools you need to improve your extreme notes on the recorder. Aside from the technical details, the most important things are confidence, a positive attitude and regular practice. Spend a few minutes every day making friends with your least favourite notes and they’ll become a strength rather than a weakness. Why not make a resolution to practise them for a few minutes every single day for a month and leave a comment below to share your progress? I’d love to hear how you’re getting on!

Sounding Pipes Edition 4

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During my long train journey back from Edinburgh last week I whiled away the hours listening to music - a handy way of blocking out the distractions of screaming babies and the couple bickering with each other across the aisle from me. Having four hours to explore music, both familiar and new, was such a luxury, rather than squeezing it in between work. It also allowed me to narrow down my choices for my fourth Sounding Pipes playlist, which I hope may inspire you to go exploring yourself.

As ever I’ve picked a mixed bag of music, with pieces from many different eras - some serious, some lighthearted - hopefully something for everyone!

Georg Philpp Telemann - Water Music - Hamburger Ebb' und Fluth

Telemann, Corelli & Bach Chamber Music - Emelie Roos (recorder), Anna Paradiso (harpsichord), Dan Laurin (recorder) and Höör Barock BIS2235

Mention Water Music and most people will think of Handel’s suites, composed for a Royal celebration on the River Thames. But did you know that Telemann composed a suite too, arguably even better than Handel’s?

Telemann composed Hamburger Ebb' und Fluth (Hamburg ebb and flood) in 1723 to celebrate the centenary of the Hamburg Admiralty. Hamburg was an important port, situated on the River Elbe, and to reflect this Telemann’s music depicts a series of mythological gods connected with water, including Neptune and Triton. We see these supernatural characters in a variety of activities - sleep, play, love and more. He uses the recorder in several movements but in this Sarabande we hear Thetis, the mother of Achilles, being lulled in sleep by two treble recorders.

I’ve been lucky enough to perform this beautiful music several times (although always playing baroque bassoon rather than recorder) and I enjoyed it so much that I’ve arranged a collection of the dances for recorder ensemble. A couple of these have featured in my consort music videos, but if these whet your appetite to try more the full collection is available here

If you enjoyed the Sarabande, the whole suite is available on YouTube as a playlist here.

Paul Hindemith - Trio from Plöner Musiktag

Fruit of a Different Vine - Alison Melville, Nathalie Michaud & Colin Savage (recorders) Atma Classique ACD22206

In the early days of the recorder’s twentieth century revival contemporary music for the instrument was pretty sparse. Carl Dolmetsch played a significant role in expanding the range of fresh solo repertoire by premiering new works in each of his Wigmore Hall recitals - for instance the Lennox Berkeley Sonatina I wrote about in my last Sounding Pipes playlist.

In Germany the recorder was also garnering interest, perhaps most notably with Peter Harlan, a guitarist and instrument maker. After attending a concert at the Haslemere Festival Harlan saw the potential of the instrument and purchased a set of the recorders Arnold Dolmetsch had recently begun making, with the intention of making his own when he returned home. Unfortunately he didn’t realise these instruments were pitched at A 415, so the bottom note of the treble sounded to his uninformed ears like an E at modern concert pitch. If he followed this logic he would have made a consort of recorders pitched in E and B (rather than the familiar F and C), but of course that meant any music ended up with key signatures containing lots of sharps - hardly ideal. Harlan’s compromise was to make recorders in D and A, which could at least play easily with string instruments.

It was this misunderstanding which led Paul Hindemith to compose a trio for a music day held at a school in Plön in 1932 for recorders in A and D. Hindemith performed it with two friends, but the score indicates it can be played by single or by multiple players per part. Of course, the requirement for recorders at an unusual pitch meant this piece was rarely played in Britain until the composer gave permission in 1952 for Walter Bergmann to create a new edition for recorders in F and C.

Hindemith’s music may not be to everyone’s taste and I have to confess I find much of his compositional output a little uncompromising. However, his Trio for recorders has a quirky charm and is a definite favourite of mine. It has three contrasting movements which conjure up different images in my mind. The first makes me think of a bustling street scene in 1930s New York, with parping horns and some blues musicians standing on a street corner (there’s definitely a hint of Gershwin in there). The second movement has a robotic feel, and one can only wonder if perhaps Hindemith had Fritz Lang’s 1927 futuristic film Metropolis in mind. The Trio culminates in Sostenuto movement which, at a tempo of crotchet = 40-50, seems to absorb all the excess energy of the preceding two. In comparison to the others it has a much cooler tone, maybe casting a spotlight on more perilous corners of the city where one perhaps shouldn’t venture after dark for fear of what might be lurking among the grimey alleyways.

If the Hindemith Trio is new to you the full work is available to listen to (along with the rest of Alison Melville’s album) here and the music (in the C and F recorders version) can be found under the ‘Arrangements and Transcriptions’ tab on IMSLP.

Oliver Davis - Earth from The Elements

Arcadia - The Hanke Brothers Signum Classics SIGCD590

Apple Music launched their new classical music app the day I set off for Edinburgh - the perfect opportunity for me to have a rummage around and see if a standalone classical app makes the task of finding specific pieces and recordings simpler (it does!). While music streaming services aren’t good for the musicians who appear on them (the royalties they pay are notoriously poor) they’re a great way to browse and find unfamiliar recordings. Apple Music Classical offers the option to browse by instrument, so naturally I took a look through the offerings for recorder.

Among the many familiar pieces of repertoire I found Oliver Davis’s The Elements, composed for the unlikely combination of piano, viola, recorder and tuba. My interest was piqued and I was amazed how well this eclectic mix of instruments works in the right hands. Oliver Davis has composed for film, television and ballet, as well as concert works and his music has a distinctly minimalist feel, with repetitive rhythmic and melodic patterns.

The movement I’ve chosen to share with you is Earth, which Davis describes this way:

“I wanted to create a grounded feel so anchored the music with long pedal notes in the tuba and used a repeated rhythmic pattern in the viola to propel the music towards its climactic ending.”

I love the way he uses this unique combination of sounds to create contrasts and I think I can honestly say I’ve never heard a tuba played with such delicacy, and certainly never with a recorder before! As with many of my other suggestions, the whole album this movement comes from is available here for you to explore further.

Peter Philips - Pavan Passamezzo

Amsterdam Loeki Stardust Quartet and Sour Cream

The Passamezzo Antico chord progression

We’re stepping back some 400 years for my next suggestion to one of my favourite pieces of Renaissance consort music. Using the Passamezzo Antico ground bass, Peter Philips weaves his magic, creating an endless tapestry of musical lines. This eight bar chord progression has been used as the basis for music by composers for centuries.

Some choose to use a tool like this as a ground bass, with an endlessly repeating pattern in the lowest instrument while the higher parts weave their magic above. But Philips takes a different approach, using the chords as the skeleton of his music and allowing all the voices a chance to take an equal role in the melodic movement.

I wanted to find a recorder consort performance of Pavan Passamezzo to share with you and it was a bonus to discover this coming together of two recorder supergroups - the Amsterdam Loeki Stardust Quartet and Frans Bruggen’s Sour Cream. The fact that they’re performing it on a low consort of Renaissance recorders is just the icing on the cake as they create a wonderfully lush timbre.

J.S.Bach - Cantata 39, Brich dem hungrigen dein Brot

Bach’s manuscript of Cantata 39 - click to see enlarged.

Bach Cantatas Vol.16 - Ton Koopman with the Amsterdam Baroque Orchestra and Choir. Challenge Classics CC72216

My next recording is one spontaneously suggested to me by Apple Music as I was travelling several months ago. Bach wrote Cantata 39 for performance in June 1726, when he was working at St Thomas’s Church in Leipzig. It’s a sacred work, with a text which implores us to be grateful for God's gifts and to share them with the needy. The slow opening section shows Bach’s mastery of orchestral writing in the way he combines the instrumental tones (two recorders, oboes, strings and choir) and I recommend you listen to it with the sound turned up to really savour Bach’s magical shifts of harmony. This is followed by a livelier section, during which I’m sure I spotted a little snippet in the recorder parts, borrowed from his own Brandenburg Concerto No.4!

A sneaky bonus… Cantata 82 - Ich habe genug

While listening to this selection from Ton Koopman’s Bach Cantata series I rediscovered another gem which I just had to include. The opening aria of Cantata 82, Ich habe genug, doesn’t include any recorders, but the music is absolutely heavenly - a simply exquisite combination of melodic lines for oboe and bass voice. The video below begins with this particular aria, but there’s nothing to stop you listening to the rest as well if the fancy takes you!

Glenn Miller - Moonlight Serenade

Flanders Recorder Quartet

I always try to include something light to complement the serious music in my Sounding Pipes playlists and this time it’s a spot of big band jazz, played by the Flanders Recorder Quartet. Although it’s perhaps best known as an instrumental piece, several different sets of lyrics were connected with the tune during Miller’s lifetime. Miller never recorded a vocal version, but it did make it onto Frank Sinatra’s 1966 album, Moonlight Sinatra. Had Miller survived World War II one can’t help but wonder whether he would have approved of Sinatra’s take on what had become Miller’s own signature tune.

The Flanders Recorder Quartet bring their own laid back approach to this timeless classic, performed at one of their last concerts together in Taiwan in November 2018. The communication between Bart, Paul, Tom and Joris is such a joy to see and I can’t help but smile at the cheeky interaction between Tom and Joris one minute and fifty five seconds in!

Scott Schultz’s Thirty Second Concerts

Browse through all of Scott’s videos here.

If you need a short twice-weekly pick me up, my last suggestion surely can’t fail to make you smile!

Scott Schultz was once a professional french horn player and during the pandemic he was looking for a way to keep himself occupied. The result was his twice weekly ‘30 Second Concerts’ which feature recorders, percussion instruments and a healthy sense of humour. Scott has three rules for the creation of these videos:

  1. All technology used must have no cost associated with their use (hence the 30 second limit)

  2. All instruments used must be acoustic only and preferably designed to be used by children

  3. All arrangements are created by Scott from available no-cost resources

I’ve subscribed to Scott’s YouTube channel for a few months now and his humorous approach to the music never fails to make me smile. He always dresses up for the occasion and no musical genre is off-limits. At the time of writing he’s released just over 400 videos, so it’s all but impossible to pick just one. I can’t imagine how much time he must put into creating these musical moments (the costumes alone must take some time to dream up!) but they brighten my day when they pop up in my YouTube subscriptions feed on Tuesdays and Thursdays.

Have I succeeded in my mission to broaden your musical repertoire? I so enjoy creating these playlists as it helps me discover unfamiliar music and new recordings of pieces I know well. If there’s an area of music you’d like me to include more of in future playlists do leave a comment below - I find it inspiring to receive recommendations too!

The technique zone - Finger training

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Hotteterre’s iconic image of a recorder player’s hands from his treatise, Principes de la flute traversiere, de la Flute a Bec, et du Haut-bois, Op.1

When you consider the myriad of things we concentrate on while playing the recorder it’s a miracle we make music at all, isn’t it? You’ve got breathing, tone production, articulation and fingering to consider and that’s without even making any decisions about the finer musical details.

Multitasking is a skill all humans struggle with - our brains just aren’t designed for focusing on multiple tasks at once. The way we overcome this in music is to practise certain skills to the point where they become instinctive and habitual. Once this happens, that habitual element of playing can continue while our brain focuses more heavily on other things. I see the challenges of multitasking all the time in the musicians I work with. A pupil can be playing with a gorgeous, rounded tone, but when faced with a sudden flurry of fast notes, or a passage in a tricky key, their tone suddenly suffers because they’re now busy thinking about their fingers.

This short video clearly explains the phenomenon of how we manage (or fail to manage!) multitasking.

To develop good technique to the point where it becomes habitual it’s important to separate out the various elements, focusing on just one skill for a period. In previous posts I’ve talked about breathing, tone production and legato playing, so today we’re going to focus on moving our fingers well.

Be a tortoise rather than a hare

My aim today is to get you thinking about the quality of your finger movements rather than the speed of them. You remember the old adage, “Don’t run before you can walk” - that applies to recorder playing too!

None of the techniques and exercises I’m going to share here need to be done at speed immediately - that can come later. Instead, take your time, focusing on efficiency rather than whizziness. In a further blog post we’ll discuss how to acquire speedy fingers - to do that as well today would almost certainly require too much multitasking!

If you practise the techniques below and turn them into good habits you’ll be in a much stronger place to develop speed in the future.

How do you hold your recorder?

I often see people doing battle with their recorders, holding them in curious ways - this inevitably has a detrimental effect on finger efficiency. Let’s go back to basics for a moment - I explain exactly where to begin in this short video:

Comfort with larger recorders

A welcome innovation over the last twenty to thirty years has been an increase in the number of knick recorders available. These are larger instruments (tenor downwards) which incorporate a bend in the headjoint, often some additional keywork. Such modifications are so helpful as they bring the body of the recorder closer to the player, reducing the stretch required for the fingers and arms. Straight tenor recorders often provide the greatest challenge for those with smaller hands. I know many players who now enjoy playing the tenor recorder because a knick and some extra keys have brought the fingerholes into comfortable reach for them.

Knick instruments have one drawback though - the bend in the headjoint changes the angle of the recorder’s centre joint. As I explained in my video, a straight recorder sits upon your right thumb in an almost horizontal position. This allows gravity to help pin the recorder against your thumb, adding stability. With a knick instrument, the centre joint takes an almost vertical position, so gravity then becomes a negative force, trying to pull your recorder to the ground! There are several possible solutions here, the simplest of which is to use a thumb rest. Tucking your thumb beneath a thumb rest gives the recorder a point of balance and the force of gravity holds it there. But with heavy recorders, or for those with arthritic thumbs, this can of be painful so there are other solutions you can try.

Attaching a sling or neck strap to the back of your recorder allows you to hang the weight of the instrument from your neck or shoulders, perhaps in combination with a thumbrest. If this isn’t comfortable, a third option is available for the bass recorder - to rest the bottom of the instrument somewhere. I often do this by crossing my ankles, resting the bottom of the recorder between my calves. If this isn’t comfortable you can also buy adjustable spikes which allow you to rest the instrument on the floor. I often use the latter solution with my bass and I love the way it takes all the strain away from my fingers.

Ultimately, if your body is comfortable while playing, this frees up your fingers to move efficiently, making your playing more fluent. It’s definitely worth spending some time finding the right solution for you.

The human hand - a flawed design

Evolution is an amazing thing, slowly making adjustments and improvements to the design of our bodies over many, many generations. However, from a musician’s perspective, there are still a few things which could be improved. One of these is the design of our hands.

It’s a common misconception that our fingers are controlled by muscles within our hands. In reality, the movement of our fingers is created by the muscles in our forearms. These muscles connect to tendons, which run through our wrists and hands into our fingers. As the forearm muscles flex they pull on the tendons, creating the finger movements needed to play the recorder.

It’s within these tendons you find a small flaw. A single tendon runs through each finger and into your wrist. However, the tendons from your third and fourth fingers fuse together in the centre of your hand before continuing as one single tendon into your wrist. The fact that these two fingers share a tendon means they work better as a team than they do individually. This is why your third and fourth fingers don’t work as independently as the others. This is particularly critical when we play forked fingerings, such as E flat on the treble recorder or B flat on the descant. These notes require the third and fourth fingers to work independently of each other – something they don’t do easily.

I’d love to think that if enough of us continue playing musical instruments of any type, eventually evolution will sort this design flaw out. Hopefully in a couple of million years time recorder players won’t face the same difficulties as we do with forked fingerings!

Keep reading and I have some exercises later which will help you make these weaker fingers work more efficiently.

Good vibrations

Do you have a recorder close by? If so, pick it up now and play a few notes. Focus on the sensations you feel through your fingers.

Do you feel gentle vibrations through the pads of your fingers? Or is your sole sensation that of the wood or plastic beneath your fingertips? This exercise will help you understand whether you’re covering the holes in the right way. Use the minimum amount of pressure and you can feel the vibration of the air column beneath your fingers. If you can’t feel this vibration you’re pressing your fingers down with too much force, and working harder than you need to. Being aware of this will help you to better understand whether you are working your fingers efficiently.

Remember too that you should always cover the holes with the pads of your finger, not the tips. This gives you maximum sensitivity and the best chance of sealing them effectively.

Active versus passive

An efficient finger technique is vital if you ever wish to play at speed. You should aim to use just enough effort to open and close the finger holes. Use too light a touch can result in air leaks, while pressing too hard with your fingers expends more energy than necessary.

A useful way to achieve the perfect balance of finger pressure is to think in terms of active and passive movements. Bringing your fingers down to cover the holes uses gravity as an assistant and is a passive movement. In contrast, when lifting fingers up, you’re working against gravity so this movement has to be an active one. Play a few notes on your recorder, perhaps a short scale, and really focus on these two types of movement. Harnessing, the power of gravity will help you cover the finger holes with ease, while the greatest amount of energy is always used when lifting the fingers.

Don’t work too hard!

When it comes to finger movements I always tell my pupils to be as lazy as they can get away with. Of course, I don’t mean taking a slapdash, “that’ll do“ sort of attitude. Instead, think in terms of expending the minimum energy necessary to get the most efficient result.

Are you a recorder player whose fingers are a model of efficiency and neatness? Or maybe you’re someone whose digits flap like flags in the wind?! It’s simple common sense that if you keep your fingers close to the recorder they’ll travel more quickly than if you lift them high. However, common sense doesn’t necessarily have a huge amount to do with what we actually do with our fingers!

If you’re  a finger flapper, spend some time playing a simple piece of music, where you have the spare mental capacity to be able to focus on your finger movements, without being distracted by other elements of technique. Playing in front of a mirror can be really helpful here, because it’s often easier to see which fingers are moving too much when viewed from the perspective of an another person.

Another mental image I suggest to my students is to imagine a mini electric fence placed horizontally two or three centimetres above your fingers. If you’re familiar with Star Trek, I’m thinking of a miniaturised version of the electronic force fields they use to close off parts of the Starship Enterprise. With this imaginary force field in place, think what would happen if you lifted your fingers too high and they came into contact with it. A quick zap of electricity would certainly focus the mind, deterring you from lifting your fingers further than they need to travel - not that I’m suggesting you should actually electrify your recorder!

If you’d like to see efficient fingering in action I recommend watching this video of a young Frans Bruggen performing the Vivaldi Concerto in C, RV441. He looks so utterly relaxed and his fingers lift just enough to clear the holes, but no more. For those of who don’t speak Dutch, the music begins at around two minutes.

Snappy mover

If you’re playing a slow piece of music, do you think your fingers should move quickly or slowly?

I often pose this question to students and you’d be surprised how many people get the answer wrong. Your fingers do, of course, need to move quickly and snappily, regardless of the tempo of the music. When you’re playing a slow, singing line the notes change at a leisurely pace and the spaces between the notes are minimised to create that legato effect. Move your fingers too slowly and the transitions become blurred and glissando-like. I often compare this to the voices of The Clangers in the 1970s TV cartoon! To avoid this always move your fingers quickly and efficiently to create a singing melody with crisp transitions between notes.

Putting everything into practice

Having considered basic principles, it’s now time to put this into practice.

As I mentioned earlier, trying to do too many things at once will almost certainly end in failure. Your best bet is to choose something simple, allowing you to focus entirely on your finger movements. Perhaps the simplest exercise is a five note scale like the ones shown below - one for the fingers on the left hand, one for the right.

Begin very slowly, but make sure every single finger movement is quick, neat and as minimalist as possible. Remember, the further, your fingers move away from the recorder, the longer they take to come back down again. The time saved by making small movements is important whether you’re playing a slow melody or virtuosic concerto. Even better, play these passages with every note slurred. Slurring leaves nowhere for your fingers to hide – every little inconsistencies in their movement will be audible. Slurring also exposes unevenness in tone and rhythm so don’t forget to listen out for those too!

As you begin to improve the quality of your finger movements, gradually increase the speed of these short exercises. As the tempo builds, take care not to slip back into bad habits, with fingers flapping wildly.

Training badly behaved fingers

When we looked at the anatomy of our hands earlier, I mentioned how the connected finger tendons make forked fingerings harder to play neatly. This is because such notes require movement of two or more fingers together, frequently including one of your weaker fingers. The ultimate challenge comes when a note change requires you to move fingers up and down simultaneously, using digits on both hands.

The exercise below demands all these things between notes 2, 3 and 4. Try playing it now (ideally slurred) and listen to the neatness (or not!) of your finger movements.

Now play the same exercise while standing in front of a mirror. Really study the way your fingers are moving.

If you hear blips between notes this is because one or more fingers are moving out of sync with the others. Watching this process in a mirror (seeing them from the perspective of your recorder teacher, for instance) makes it much easier to spot which finger is slower than the others. If you find it hard to spot the badly behaved finger, concentrate on any which are moving upwards. Remember, lifting a finger requires you to work against gravity, requiring fractionally more effort. You’ll almost certainly find misbehaving digit is a lifted finger, moving just a fraction slower than the others.

Having located the recalcitrant digit, next time, really focus on that particular finger, trying to make it work just a little bit harder than the others. Over time you’ll probably noticed a pattern. Third fingers are the most common offenders, simply because they’re weaker as a result of the shared tendon. There’s nothing you can do to change the way your hand is built, but by concentrating on the way your fingers move, you can gradually encourage them to move more efficiently.

Once you can do this neatly while playing slowly, then begin to increase the speed, bit by bit, always ensuring your finger movements are neat and precise before moving the tempo up another notch.

Do you have your own tips for dealing with lazy fingers?

I’m sure there will be things I’ve mentioned today which chime with you. We’ve all wrestled with difficult passages and berated our fingers for creating all sorts of blips and imperfections. If you can recognise these bad habits while practising, you’re in a good position to gradually improve upon them. Maybe you have your own exercises and techniques for improving finger control? If you do, why not leave a comment below and share some of them with us – there’s always room to learn from each other.

The tips and exercises I’ve shared today are ones that work for me, but we all tackle things in our own unique way. I’d love to hear some of your tips and tricks!

A host of Holborne

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Anthony Holborne (c.1545-1602) is a shadowy figure as far as music history is concerned, yet he’s almost certainly a composer whose music you’ve encountered from time to time. This is largely down to a collection of music we’re going to explore together today.

Our knowledge of Holborne’s life is a patchwork of ‘perhaps’ and ‘maybes’. The University of Cambridge alumni database shows an Anthony Holborne enrolled at Christ’s College in 1562 and speculates that it may well be our composer. Three years later, a man of the same name was admitted to the Inner Temple Court, but again the details are sketchy. However, we do know he had a (probably younger) brother, William, as Anthony included several of his sibling’s madrigals in his first publication - the Cittharn Schoole in 1597. We also know that on 14th June 1584 Anthony married Elisabeth Marten at St Margaret’s Church, Westminster - now the parish church of the House of Commons. A posthumous publication describes him as a ‘Gentleman usher’ to Queen Elizabeth I, but once again, it’s not clear quite what the job entailed - he certainly doesn’t appear in any records relating to musical life at the Chapel Royal.

During his latter years he worked in the service of Sir Robert Cecil, 1st Earl of Salisbury, and also enjoyed the patronage of Mary Sidney, Countess of Pembroke. We’ll encounter her again later, as we explore Holborne’s music. He was evidently well respected by his peers and the first song from John Dowland’s Second Booke, I saw my lady weepe, is dedicated to Holborne.

Pavans, Galliards, Almains and other short Aeirs, both grave and light, in five parts, for Viols, Violins, or other Musicall Winde Instruments

This is the collection for which Anthony Holborne is best known today. Published in 1599, it contains no fewer than 65 dances and is the the largest published collection of English music to survive from this period.

It’s not clear when Holborne composed these dances, but it’s likely to have happened over a period of several years. Some of the music appears in his Cittharn Schoole, published two years earlier, and several dances also exist in lute tablature. Which version came first is something we can only guess at.

The collection is dedicated to Sir Richard Champernowne (c.1558-1622), who was Member of Parliament for West Looe in Cornwall. Judging by the dedication found in the part books, Holborne was evidently appreciative of his patronage, opening with the following words:

“In a continued observation of your virtuous constancy in the love of Music, I have long and with great increase of reason honoured you most gentle Sir: for, even but part of my poor labours speaking in their kindly voice, from the experience of many years can feelingly witness and sing with what graceful favours they have been nourished at your hands. With this regard, I have distinctively bundled them up into a catalogue volume, accompanied with a more liberal and enlarged choice than hath at any time as yet come to your refined ears: and withal, have now made bold to present them as things not altogether unnecessary to do you pleasing service, but also to live and dwell with you under the protection of your good allowance, and the testimony of my ever-bounden thankfulness.”

Three different types of dance

Holborne’s 1599 collection contains three different types of dance - pavans, galliards and almains. Rather than simply naming the movements by dance type, he gives over half of them more creative names, although it’s clear enough which is which from their time signature. The pavans and galliards tend to appear in pairs, while the almains are grouped together towards the end of the volume, along with some other independent pieces in three-time which may be corantos.

Some of the dances are fairly straightforward examples, suitable for dancing, while others enjoy much more complex rhythms. The galliards can be particularly unpredictable, with never-ending shifts between duple and triple time, sometimes without even any consistency between individual parts. Ask anyone who’s wrestled with the complexities of The Fairie-round and they’ll almost certainly have come adrift at one time or another when rehearsing or performing this music!

Which instruments to choose?

Title page of this collection describes them for ‘viols, violins or other musical wind instruments’, which offers up a huge range of possibilities. Publishers of this period often suggested multiple instruments on title pages as an easy way to make the music appeal to a greater range of buyers. You may wish to play these dances with a recorder consort, but there’s no reason why you shouldn’t also join together with friends who play the viol to create a ‘broken’ consort, mixing different instrument families.

While researching this subject I’ve discovered a myriad of recordings. There are performances which stick to one type of instrument, as well as those who mix wind and strings. Some combine bowed string instruments (viols and/or violins) with plucked instruments such as the lute or theorbo. But I’ve also encountered performances on recorders, sackbuts and cornetts, modern brass quintet and even tuba ensemble! If you really want to explore the rhythmic possibilities of this music there’s no reason why you couldn’t add a little percussion too, as you’ll hear in one of two of the recordings below. One thing’s for sure - you can play Holborne’s dances with a recorder consort with a clear conscience!

When it comes to selecting your recorders, the usual instrumentation for these dances is SATTB. However, if you’re short of tenor players, the Quintus line (the middle line of the score) will often fit the treble recorder too, albeit lying rather low in its range. The majority of the Bassus part fits perfectly on a bass recorder, and when the odd note disappears off the bottom of the instrument you can easily hop up to the octave above.

Holborne’s score writing

Partbooks published during Holborne’s life throw up one or two curiosities which are worth noting. The most significant is the way the Altus and Quintus parts of the first eight dances are inverted. As the higher voice, the Altus is the second line for the remainder of the collection, while Quintus occupies line three. All three modern editions I’ve mentioned below rectify this error so the Altus part book is always the second highest and the Quintus the line below. Quite why this quirk exists is unknown. Was it an intentional decision by Holborne, or an error by the typesetter? I doubt we’ll ever know!

Another oddity which always tickles me is Holborne’s selective use of a key signature in No.7 - a Pavan. Curiously, the B flat is only applied to the Quintus and Bassus lines in the 1599 partbooks. Looking through the Pavan, B flats only appear in these parts, so maybe this was the typesetter’s way of conserving time and ink? Once again, we have to fill in the blanks for ourselves in this story as there’s no recorded reason for this particular quirk!

Choosing an edition to play from

There are plenty of editions to be found of individual dances but I’m going to concentrate here on complete editions. There are two complete printed editions I think are worth seeking out, one more recent than the other.

Bernard Thomas’s London Pro Musica edition, LPM AH1

For a long while this was the go-to edition for Holborne, published by Bernard Thomas in 1980. I invested in this hefty box set when I was at music college and we often used it in consort rehearsals. Bernard added time signatures and bar lines, but interestingly chose to keep many of the Galliards in 6/2 rather than writing them in a more familiar 3/2 time signature. This makes hemiolas easier to spot as one voice often has three semibreves together, avoiding the need for tied notes across barlines - as you can see in the example below. It’s a clear edition with lots of detailed background notes.

Using a 6/2 time signature (in No.38 - Galliard) helps make it clearer where the hemiolas occur, as you can see from the three semibreves in the cantus and bassus parts.

Peacock Press Edition, edited by George Simmons and Virginia VanPoole, 2011. Peacock Press PEMS014

A more recent addition to the available modern editions is this one from Peacock Press. You can buy it as a box set, but if you need extra parts in different clefs they’re available individually too. Like the previous edition, this is beautifully clear and well laid out and this is the version I use most often.

These two printed editions aren’t cheap, but there’s a pleasure to be had playing from a well thought out and clear bound copy. Come to think of it, I’m pretty sure my set of the Bernard Thomas edition cost me about £30 when I bought it thirty years ago, so the current £40 price tag of either edition makes them look like inflation beaters in today’s financial climate!

Free editions:

If you’re still getting to know Holborne’s music and haven’t decided whether to splash out on a printed edition yet there are also some free download editions you can try.

New unbarred edition: I recently discovered this newish edition, edited by Ben Maloney as part of his degree at the University of York in 2019. Ben went back to the set of partbooks held at Christ Church, Oxford, which have some interesting annotations from the original publisher, to start from scratch. He’s chosen to retain Holborne’s mensuration signs (the predecessor to modern time signatures) and has left the music unbarred. This results in clearer rhythmic patterns, removing the need for ties across barlines. If you’re someone who really finds barlines helpful, Ben has added small dashes to show the start of each ‘bar’ - a handy halfway house to going fully unbarred. You’ll find the score for Ben’s edition here and the parts here.

IMSLP: If you’ve never tried any of Holborne’s music a good place to begin is IMSLP, where both Ulrich Alpers and Daniel Van Gilst have generously made all the dances available in score format. These are a good way to explore and see which ones you like - you can find them here.

Holborne’s 1599 Edition: If you want to go right back to source material, scans of the 1599 partbooks are even available. Reading from original notation isn’t for everyone, but if you enjoy the challenge, or perhaps you’re just curious, I’ve collected the five part books together in one PDF file here.

My Holborne highlights

To complete my look at Holborne’s dances I’ve spent lots of time listening to the many recordings on YouTube. I’ve picked out a selection of my favourite Holborne dances for you to explore, along with a wide variety of different recordings. These include performances on recorders, but you’ll discover some less predictable instrumentation along the way too.

The Marie-golde - No.8

I’m going to begin my selection with one of Holborne’s simplest galliards, The Marie-Golde. He takes a very chordal approach with this one, avoiding too many complex syncopations, and you can imagine this being danced to. Among the more traditional performances I found this very sonorous recording by the Chromos Tuba Quartet - a combination of instruments even Holborne wouldn’t have expected when he gave such a generously broad range of options on the front cover!

Infernum - No.21

This beautiful Pavan is a fascinating mix of styles. The first two sections feature plenty of counterpoint between the parts, while the final section returns to a more chordal approach, with all five voices moving in parallel. I’ve chosen two contrasting performances, the first of which features Hesperion XXI directed by Jordi Savall. In keeping with the rather dour title, he goes for sombre viols and lute, with the addition of bass drum at key moments.

In contrast, Capella de la Torre go for a largely wind based consort featuring shawms and sackbuts, with lute and drums. The result is fabulously sonorous and I can’t wait to explore more from this ensmeble.

My Selfe - No.36

Here we have another Galliard and, one presumes, a self portrait of the composer. This is another number where you feel you could actually dance along. The tone of The English Cornett and Sackbut Ensemble is gentler than modern brass, but you’d still be able to hear them clearly over the sound of dancing shoes on a wooden floor.

The Image of Melancholy - No.27

If ever you need something mellow and harmonious to relax to after a busy day I can’t recommend this Pavan enough. The music begins with a steady, contemplative feel, gradually becoming more conversational as the piece draws on.

With this performance by Consort Brouillamini you get four Holborne dances for the price of one, recorded at a concert in 2019. Played on wide bore Renaissance recorders, their tone is glorious and it’s great to see this wonderful music being played before an audience.

I also discovered another performance on recorders, this time by The Royal Wind Music, directed by Paul Leenhouts. This uses a broader palette of tones, with each line doubled at the octave.

The Night Watch - No.55

Now we come to an almain, a somewhat livelier dance than the preceding pavan. This is one of Holborne’s best known dances and is sure to get your feet tapping. The Academy of Ancient Music take a relatively leisurely approach, so perhaps the watchman in question was reaching the end of his night on duty…

Wanton - No.61

Holborne doesn’t specify the type of dance here, but it’s generally assumed the triple time movements towards the end of the collection are Corantos. I love the perpetually shifting rhythmic patterns and it can be tricky to grasp where the beat is moving to next.

Bjarte Eike’s recording with the Barokksolistene takes a relaxed approach which I really enjoy.

In contrast Les Sacquboutiers chose a livelier tempo, playing cornetts and sackbuts, with some delicate percussion to emphasise the perpetually shifting meter.

The Funerals - No.31

This beautiful Pavan was inspired by a heartbreaking story, which just makes it even more moving. Holborne’s patron, the Countess of Pembroke, tragically lost her father, mother and brother in the same year, 1586, and he wrote this as a lament for their loss. The opening is section is gorgeously sonorous, with a very static bass line. Gradually the music encompasses more movement and in the final section the Bassus line takes centre stage. Les Voix Baroques and Matthew White create a heart rending sense of melancholy with a broken consort. They use a combination of instruments I would never have considered but it’s so effective and beautifully played.

Muy Linda - No.34) Galliard

Whoever Linda was, she evidently had a sense of humour if Holborne’s music is anything to go by! The music bops along, switching endlessly between simple and compound time and Holborne really has some fun in the final section. Here the Cantus, Quintus, Tenor and Bassus lines play quite happily together in 3/2, while the Altus part stubbornly sticks with a 6/4 meter. I’ve had some fun working on this with several groups recently and there’s always a degree of mirth as we wrestle with Holborne’s cross-rhythms!

The first of my chosen recordings features Les Sacqboutiers once again, with their wonderfully delicate sackbut and cornett combination, accompanied by a sparkling tambourine.

In contrast L'Achéron go for a string based approach, combining viols, cittern, bandora and ottavino, creating masses of energy but occupying a totally different tonal world.

The Fruit of Love - No.58

The Fruit of Love is another Almain, and a good place to begin if you’re new to Holborne. I featured the B-Five Recorder Consort in one of my Sounding Pipes playlists a while ago and was delighted to find more of their mellow recorder tones here.

We’ve met L'Achéron already, but here we have another video, featuring The Fruit of Love, in the trailer for their album of Holborne, as well as an introduction by their director, François Joubert-Caillet, explaining more about their approach to this music. You also get a second helping of Muy Linda at the end!

The Fairie-Round - No.63

I couldn’t complete my list of Holborne hits without including The Fairie-Round - a truly interstellar piece! As well as being littered with brain jingling cross-rhythms, this is one of the pieces NASA chose to include on the golden records they sent into space on the Voyager 1 and 2 probes in 1977. These discs were designed as a representation of human culture and achievement, should the probes ever be intercepted by extra-terrestrial life. They’re currently heading out of our panetary system, beyond Pluto, but given the vastness of space it may be some time before any aliens get to hear David Munrow’s take on this particular dance!

If that performance wasn’t energetic enough for you, do take a listen to this interpretation by Consort Brouillamini from their album The Woods so Wild. It’s played at a lower pitch than the Early Music Consort of London, but that doesn’t stop it sparkling like the sun!

Heigh Ho Holiday - No.65

My final selection just had to be Holborne’s final dance, Heigh Ho Holiday, which is full of joy. The Royal Wind Music bring buckets of energy to their performance. They begin with a sparkling four foot consort, before adding the deepest tones of the recorder world without diminishing the sense of drive by one iota.

Which is your favourite Holborne?

Perhaps you’re already a Holborne convert, playing them regularly with a consort. Or maybe you’ve made some new discoveries today and are raring to give them a try? Either way, I’d love to hear which of his dances you love the most. I’m sure you’ll agree there’s something in the collection to be enjoyed whatever mood you’re in, be it melancholic or bursting with energy. Please do drop a comment below to share your favourites and I’d love to know if anyone has played all of them!