Recorder tips from the real world

We like to think we’re all unique individuals, tackling life in our own special way. But anyone’s who’s worked as a teacher knows this is only partly true. Yes, everyone has a different character, but when faced with a class of pupils you quickly learn there are mistakes that everyone makes.

Photo by Dayne Topkin

I spend much of my working life coaching groups of adult musicians and, while each ensemble is unique, I find myself offering certain key pieces of advice to every one. Many of of you will be familiar with Walter Bergmann’s Golden Rules for Recorder Players - if you’ve been following the Score Lines blog for a while you’ll probably seen them in my first post, back in September 2021. While his advice is encased in pithy sayings I feel absolutely sure each one is founded upon an experience Walter Bergmann had while coaching amateur musicians.

Several people have suggested I share some of my own ‘Golden Rules’ here, so over the last few months I gradually jotted things down as they occurred to me. Now I can’t promise to be as witty as Dr Bergmann, but I can promise you’ll find yourself nodding in recognition at some of them as you glimpse your own bad habits.  No doubt others will occur to me as soon as I press ‘publish’, so this may yet become the first in an series of blogs, but for now I hope you may be able to use some of these brief pieces of advice to avoid some of the mistakes we all make from time to time. 

My collection of jotted thoughts fall roughly into two categories :

  1. Aspects of musical notation and how we interact with it

  2. Thoughts about playing style and ways to improve one’s performances.

With that in mind we’ll tackle them in that order.

Useful nuggets of notational advice….

Using language to help with rhythms

Some people find it very natural to translate rhythm on the page into sound, while others need a helping hand. It often pays to think of rhythms like multi-syllable words, rather than taking each note on its own, and words can help you remember the way these groups of notes work together. For some reason many of my phrases have a culinary feel. Quite what that says about me and my relationship to food is debatable, but it works for me! Here are some of my favourites, but don’t be afraid to come up with your own too.

Rests as silent notes

It’s easy to view rests in music as an absence of sound - a sort of musical black hole from which light, sound and matter cannot escape. I would argue a better approach is to consider them simply as silent notes. Play or sing through the following phrase and consider where the rests occur. RETYPESET MUSIC - PITCHES WRONG!!!

If you consider the rests as holes in the music, it’s tricky to know where to place the next note. But if you feel them as a silent notes - one which has shape and mass, but no sound - it’s easier to use them as a springboard for the notes that follow. Use this as your strategy when reading music, feeling silences as active rather than passive things and it’ll undoubtedly add rhythmic integrity to your playing.

Feel the dots!

Here I’m talking about the type of dots which appear next to a note rather than above or below them, making them longer rather than shorter.

When reading dotted notes, consider exactly how much extra length that dot adds to the note. Many times I’ve asked children how long a dotted crotchet is, only to hear the reply, “It’s one and a bit beats”. Ah, but how big is that bit?!  Knowing it’s precisely half a beat is important if you’re to place the following quaver with precision.

To place the following quaver accurately you need to feel the beats within the note. For instance this is how I would suggest counting the rhythm below. Actively counting the second and fourth beats creates a springboard for the following quavers. Do this and your dotted rhythms will be precise rather than nebulous!

Iron out the bumps 

If you’ve ever played under my baton you’ll probably know this is one of my pet hates… Assuming you’re following the advice I gave in the point above, you’re now actively feeling the beats within your dotted notes. That’s a good thing, but be careful not to audibly share your technique with the listener through your breath. Often I’ll hear a distinct bump on the dot of a dotted note, or the second note of a tie, rather than a seamless continuation of the pitch. This happens because you’re thinking hard about that inner beat, maybe nodding a little with your head, or feeling the pulse through your breathing muscles. This creates a lumpy sound which isn’t attractive and it’s an easy habit to get into. To find out if you do this, play a short passage with your eyes closed, or perhaps even record it and listen back dispassionately (the voice recording app in a smartphone can be handy for this) and you’ll hear it as others do. Once you’re alert to this bad habit it’s easier to avoid and your playing with sound much smoother.

The last will be forgotten first….

Playing in extreme key signatures is a rare occurrence in recorder music as our repertoire seldom ventures beyond a couple of sharps or flats. Of course, if you have a penchant for unusual key signatures, you’re welcome to explore L'Alphabet de la musique by Johann Christian Schickhardt which contains a sonata in all 24 keys! One thing I’ve noticed over the years is the way musicians, when faced with multiple flats or sharps, will almost always forget the last element of the key signature first. This rule seems to apply regardless of the key, so in E flat major the first flat to be omitted will be the A, and in E major it’ll be the D sharps that are forgotten first. I’ve no idea why this is, but I guess there’s something about the way our brains assimilate new information which must govern this. Whatever the reason, you now know to be wary of the last sharp or flat!

Short just means short

If I had a pound for the number of times I’ve had to remind recorder players about the true meaning of staccato I’d be remarkably wealthy! So often I hear recorder players beating the living daylights out of staccato notes, with a force worthy of Norman Bates in the film Psycho. But look up staccato in any Italian dictionary and you’ll find it simply means short or detached. Perhaps you want to make the conductor realise you’ve seen the staccato markings and are implementing them, but if you don’t want to offend our ears, please don’t make them heavily accented too! 

Short is a relative term

Following on from my last point, it’s worth noting that staccato doesn’t necessarily mean you should play the notes as short as possible. Instead, consider the context of your staccato notes. Quavers in an Allegro movement may indeed need to be very short, but staccato crotchets in an Andante may need to be more generous. If you like rules, perhaps aim to play notes about half the notated length as a starting point. But do listen to the result and see if it feels appropriate to the musical context. The mood and character of the music also has a bearing on the composer’s intentions and the acoustic of the room where you’re playing may come into play too. In the dry acoustic of a carpeted room staccato notes may need to be more generously proportioned, while a voluminous church acoustic might demand super-short notes because the echo will instantly lengthen the sound.

Just how long is a long note?

I often ask students how many pulses they need to feel while playing a minim, and about half of them plump for the wrong answer. Yes, a minim may be worth two beats, but where do those beats start and finish? Imagine your phrases ends with a minim, followed by a silence. That silence begins at the start of the third beat, which means the note before it should continue until the very end of the second beat. This means you must be aware of three beats when playing a two beat note if you’re not to short-change your listener. This principle applies to any long note which is followed by silence - unless, of course, your conductor tells you to do otherwise!

The arrows show how long each note sounds in relation to the beats of the bar:

Playing with style and panache

Just wiggle your fingers and blow!

If you’ve played under my baton at some point there’s a good chance you’ll have heard me utter this phrase. It may sound glib, but there’s a good reason for it. Once before I wrote about the human desire to play music perfectly, or else we’re somehow wasting our time. Now don’t get me wrong, striving for perfection is an admirable trait, but it can also tie you up in all sorts of knots. That determination to fit all the notes in can slow you down, bringing a stilted quality to the music. Sometimes you just have to throw caution to the wind, chuck your fingers onto the recorder and see what happens. It may not be pretty, but there’s a pleasure to be derived from playing with abandon and you might discover a level of fluency which surprises you. If nothing else it’ll reveal where you need to apply more focus in your next practice session.

Perfect your recorder player’s sulk

To create a warm, relaxed sound on the recorder you need to be relaxed too - any tension will soon be reflected in your tone. Before you start playing, take a deep breath and exhale with a deep sigh, allowing your face and throat muscles to go loose and floppy. Aim to retain this lack of tension as you play - allowing your face to adopt what my recorder teacher called a ‘recorder player’s sulk’. Smiling or frowning engages more muscles, creating a degree of tension in your face which can easily travel to your throat. For more tips on producing an open, relaxed tone why not take a look at the post I wrote about tone here?

Don’t forget to blow

When you consider all the things we have to think about while playing the recorder, there’s a lot of multitasking involved - reading notation, breathing, tone, fingering, articulation and more besides. As we become more proficient we learn to juggle these competing tasks, but every musician has limits. When I’m working with adult recorder groups I see this firsthand in two situations - when the music suddenly becomes much busier, or when the players are faced with lots of unusual accidentals. At these points both the quality and quantity of tone often suffer because the players’ brains are instantly distracted by the need to tongue more quickly or to interpret the notation swiftly. I’m afraid I don’t have a magical solution for this one, but self awareness is a powerful tool.

Next time you’re faced with an unexpected flurry of semiquavers ask yourself if your tone quality has suffered because you’ve forgotten about the need to support your breath momentarily. If your recorder is beginning to sound like a wheezy donkey you know what you need to do!

Play with positivity

If you lack confidence it’s tempting to play more quietly, believing you can hide among the massed ranks of players in your local recorder ensemble. In many walks of being a shrinking violet helps you blend into the crowd, but sadly this isn’t the case with recorder playing.

When instruments are manufactured they’re designed to be played at a specific pitch, so each note rings out at the right frequency. In contrast, when you under-blow some notes will sound flatter than others and many of the highest pitches simply won’t sing reliably. Added to that, your tone will be weedy and undernourished. The result? Your playing will stand out from the crowd much more than you intended, and probably not in a good way! It might sound counterintuitive, but use a firm, well supported breath pressure and you’ll find it much easier it blend in.

I often use the word gumption in relation to playing with positivity. What do you think of if someone is described as having gumption? In my mind it’s a person who has a positive, can-do attitude, who will go for it and make things happen. You won’t find them cowering timidly in the back row. Have this in mind as you play your recorder and I bet you’ll make a more confident sound straight away. 

Make your mistakes with style and panache!

Following on from my encouragement to play with gumption, you might be thinking, “But what if I make a mistake? Everyone will hear it!” Yes, that might be true, but we learn from our mistakes, so being able to hear you’ve gone wrong is no bad thing. Tentative recorder playing often leads to a mushy rhythm as you gingerly dip your toe into new musical waters. In my book mushy rhythms are never a good thing! It’s much better to play with positivity (gumption) because your tone and rhythm are both likely to be improved. You’ll also hear your errors more clearly and be in a good position to correct them. Now I’m not advocating making loud and proud mistakes in a concert situation - by that stage you should have practised the music enough to iron them out. But when rehearsing, own your mistakes and make them with style and panache!

Give yourself an improvement target

A strategy I’ve tried recently is to set ensembles a target when we’re rehearsing. For instance, I might ask the tenors to project their sound 56% more so a melody cuts through the texture, or perhaps I’ll instruct the contrabasses to play their staccato notes 48% shorter. The precise figure rarely matters (although a very specific number often elicits a chuckle from the musicians) but the simple act of providing a target usually puts us on the right musical path. Try this in relation to a specific task when you’re practising and you might find it does the trick. 

Tuning trumps dynamics 

The recorder may have a limited dynamic range compared to many other instruments, but it’s still entirely possible to play expressively. For really convincing dynamic contrasts alternative fingerings play an important role and I plan to write more about this in a future post. If you’re not yet comfortable using different fingerings for loud and soft effects it’s tempting to use breath pressure to create these contrasts. Yes, slowing the flow of your breath will make the notes quieter, but go too far and your intonation will also become flatter.

When faced with an extreme dynamic changes in a piece of music by all means experiment, but ultimately I would argue that intonation is more important than dynamics. It’s all very well playing an exquisitely soft passage, but if you leave your listener squirming uncomfortably in their seat because the music is painfully out of tune that positive effect is greatly diminished! In the long term make a point of getting to know some creative alternative fingerings so you can achieve dynamics and good intonation, but remember this will probably need to be a gradual process.

The holy grail of recorder playing - a true legato

One thing which will make you stand out from the crown as a recorder player is being able to sustain a genuinely legato melodic line, with a well supported tone throughout. If you can cultivate a rounded sound while playing with articulation which is super-smooth you’ll bring a new level of expression to your melodic lines.

The words I come back to time after time are singing and fluidity. Aim to sustain your breath and create a sense of connectivity between the notes, just as you would when singing a hymn tune, and you’ll be well on your way. Think of the breath you put into your recorder like a stream following a crease in the hillside and that’ll help you sustain right through a phrase.

I’ve written a whole blog about this topic, which you can find here.

Breathing is good!

Once again we come back to the thorny issue of multitasking. Breath is the lifeblood of our sound, yet when we get distracted by tricky rhythms and challenging fingering it’s so easy to forget this fundamental activity. Breathing is a vital thing to do, whether in every day life or playing the recorder, so don’t be afraid to stop, take a good lungful of air, and regroup - you body and recorder playing will thank you!

If you find it hard to make space to breathe while playing why not take a look at my blog in this topic? 

Get a head start with Baroque style

Most modern music is littered with instructions from the composer, showing you his or her creative intentions. In contrast, Baroque music can seem a bewilderingly blank canvas, with little in the way of expressive instruction. Tempting as it may be to just play the notes and rhythms, you’ll achieve a decent basic baroque style by using these simple guidelines.

In faster music (say Allegro or Vivace) look the notation and identify the smallest note values you have (perhaps semiquavers or quavers, depending on the time signature). These should generally be played quite smoothly. Now look for the second shortest note values - these can be more detached.

Bear in mind that this isn’t a rule, but merely a guideline which can be broken. If the second shortest notes are repeating pitches, or leaping around, playing them detached will almost certainly create the basics of a good Baroque style. But if you have stepwise (scale) passage you might choose to break this ‘rule’ and play them more smoothly. Be open to trying different things and  take every opportunity to listen to recordings of professionals playing Baroque music so you can learn from their example.

Be brave - sit in the front row!

Time and again I go to conduct an ensemble and I’m faced with a row of empty seats directly in front of me. Why does no one want to sit in the front row? Do they think I’m scary, or perhaps I’ll ask them to play a solo? Whatever the answer, I’m on a mission to persuade people that the best seat in the house is in the front row.

Ask any school teacher and they’ll tell you they always look to the back row for the troublemakers, but that’s not the reason why I recommend the front row. The recorder is a very directional instrument, so if you’re at the back of a large group (a massed playing session at a festival, for instance) you’ll hear very little of those sitting in the front row. However, those brave souls sitting right by the conductor get to luxuriate in a wash of sound from those sitting behind them. This creates a real sense of togetherness and gives them the confidence to play to the best of their abilities. Even better, if your ears aren’t as good as in your youth you’ll find it much easier to hear the conductor’s helpful advice. Go on, making it your new year’s resolution for 2024 to sit in the front row and find out for yourself that it’s the best seat in the house!

Eliminate the chiff

When we first learn the recorder we tend to start with a small instrument - perhaps a descant or treble. As we progress we expand our horizons, often trying larger recorders - perhaps the bass or even bigger. It’s easy to assume the techniques we used on the descant will work just as well on the low instruments but some of them need a little modification. I’m thinking specifically about tonguing. Using strong articulation on a descant recorder will often do little harm, but the same level of attack on a bass can create a very explosive sound - often known as chiffing. Think of the sibilant sound you hear when a steam train sets off. A nostalgic sound at a heritage railway, but in the context of a recorder orchestra it can wreck the mood and destroy any semblance of a legato musical line! 

Yes, there are places where this percussive effect may be desirable, but you do at least need to be able to turn it off at will. My advice is to make the gentleness of your tonguing inversely proportional to the size of recorder. On a contrabass you tongue should make the softest of contacts with the hard palate in your mouth, keeping further back from your top teeth, so it imperceptibly interrupts the airflow. Most importantly of all, listen critically to your playing and ask if your articulation sounds appropriate to the musical style. If the answer is no, you need to do something about that!

Make your intentions clear

My final thought is one that occurred to me while teaching online during the pandemic. Clarity is often lost via this medium, but I’ve since found the following a useful concept in person too.

Many of us were brought up to be well mannered we’ll have an innate worry about being tasteless and over the top, Being polite is one thing, but sometimes you have to exaggerate ideas to get your point across. Think of actors on stage. Instead of speaking as we would in conversation, they amplify their gestures and tone to project to the whole theatre. Don’t be afraid to do the same with your recorder playing. Whether you’re using varied articulation, contrasting dynamics or changes of tempo, you need to make your intent clear. In a concert situation, only a proportion of your gestures will reach your audience who may be sitting a long distance away. 

My advice is to imagine your listener is sitting with a copy of the score in front of them, pencil in hand. If your performance has sufficient clarity of intent they should be able to listen to you and annotate the music to reflect what they’re hearing. You could even test yourself by recording your playing and listen back with a clean copy of the score in hand.  Could you honestly notate the details you hear? If the answer is no, you know what you need to do! 

~ ~ ~

No doubt I’ll come up with more ideas in the coming months, but that little collection should give you plenty of food for thought. Are there other topics you consider regularly when playing, or gems of knowledge you’ve picked up from other teachers? Why not share some of them in the comments below - it’ll be fascinating to learn from each other’s experiences.

Back to basics - the theory of time

Whatever job you do for a living, the chances are you had some training at the start. Surgeons start about anatomy long before they operate on a human, and lawyers are taught the intricacies of the law before they’re sent into court to defend someone’s freedom. Likewise, a professional musician spends many years at music college or university gaining a rounded understanding of music theory and the history of the repertoire we later play and teach.

I meet many able amateur musicians who are highly qualified in their own fields of work, but have come to music making by a more circuitous route. Maybe they learnt the basics at school and returned to music making several decades later. Or perhaps they decided to learn an instrument when they retired. One common factor I frequently see is a patchy knowledge of music theory, picked up piecemeal as they’ve learnt to play new repertoire.

I also see this from a personal perspective with my photography. I’ve learnt a handful of skills to help me tweak my photographs in Photoshop, but my knowledge is far from complete. Rather than learning this complex piece of software from the ground up, I’ve picked up pieces of information as and when I need them. The result - I can do certain things, but gaps in my knowledge leave me floundering when the task in hand moves beyond my limited understanding. Even worse - I often don’t know exactly where the gaps in my understanding are, which makes them even harder to fill!

With this in mind I recently asked my Score Lines subscribers about areas of music theory where they felt they had gaps. This is the start of a new series of blog posts to help you begin to plug the holes in your knowledge and gain greater enjoyment from the music you play. Among the responses to my plea were several asking about time signatures and how they interact - especially in Renaissance music.

This seems as good a place as any to begin. So let’s dig in!

Understanding time signatures

Let’s begin with the basics - what is a time signature?

Those numbers at the beginning of our music tell us how many beats there will be in each bar. They also explain what type of beats we’ll be counting in and whether they subdivide into twos or threes. Here’s how to decode them…

Let’s begin with perhaps the most familiar time signature - 4/4.

The top number

The top number of any time signature tells you how many beats there are in each bar - in this case four. It really is as simple as that. If the top number is 2 there are two beats in the bar, if it’s 10 there are ten of them. How you feel those beats can be a touch more complex, but we’ll come to that later.

The bottom number

Now for the bottom note of your time signature. This indicates the type of beat you’re dealing with, as you can see in this table:

Now you know these two pieces of information you can at least identify the number and type of beats.

Simple and compound time

Aside from the actual beats we have in each bar, another important element to understand is whether the music is in simple or compound time. These terms refer to whether the main beats in the bar (the pulse we feel when we tap our feet in time with the music) divides into two or into three. Let’s begin by listening to two pieces which illustrate the way these feel.

Simple time

When the pulse subdivides into pairs of notes, the music is said to be in simple time. For instance, in a piece built upon crotchet beats those notes each divide into two quavers. Listen to this recording of Elgar’s famous Pomp and Circumstance March No.1 and count along to the beat - one - two, one - two. When you subdivide the beats they break down into pairs of quavers - as you can see in the extract below. This means the music is in simple time.

Simple time comes in many different forms, but if the main beat is a quaver, crotchet or minim it naturally divides into two halves. Here are a few more examples of pieces in simple time:

Gabriel Faure - Pavane, Op.50: Four crotchet beats per bar, each of which divides into two quavers.

Handel - Hornpipe from Water Music Suite No. 1: The lower number of the time signature indicates a minim beat, and these subdivide into two crotchets.

Vivaldi - Autumn from the Four Seasons, 3rd movement: Here we’re dealing with a quaver beat and each of these divides into two semiquavers.

Finally we have Marg Hall’s Klezmer Fantasia. It may have an irregular number of beats in each bar, but each one of these splits into two quavers. We’ll come back to irregular time signatures like this again a little later…

Common time and other curiosities

While most time signatures are notated as numbers, sometimes the letter C is used. This is a historical throwback, connected to the mensuration symbols used in the 16th century and earlier, before music had bar lines. In short, C (often known as Common time) means the same as 4/4.

When the letter C is divided with a vertical line (often called Cut Common time) it usually means 2/2 time, although in early music it is occasionally also used to indicate 4/2 time. If you’re interested to learn more about this, do check out my post called Cracking the Code from 2021, where I talk in more depth about the vagaries of Renaissance notation, including the evolution from mensuration symbols to time signatures.

Occasionally you’ll also come across simplified time signatures in early Baroque music, where the composer just gives a single number. In such situations this number equates to the top number of a modern time signature. It’s up to you to look through the music and figure out which type of beats are involved. In the example shown here we’re dealing with crotchet beats so a modernised time signature would be 3/4.

Compound time

Not all music subdivides neatly into pairs of notes - sometimes the main beats divide into thirds - this is called compound time.

Let’s take a look at an example – Barwick Green, the theme music for the radio soap opera The Archers, by Arthur Wood. As you listen, note how the music has a ‘rumpty tumpty’ sort of feel, common in a lot of folk music.

If we consider the time signature of 6/8 and use the advice I gave earlier it’s easy to assume we have six quaver beats in the bar and each of these subdivides into two semiquavers.

Yes, this is true, but listen to the music again and tap along with it. Are you tapping the quaver beats? I bet you’re not! No, in this sort of music we feel a larger size of beat - in the case of 6/8 that’s two dotted crotchets in each bar. Each dotted crotchet breaks down into three quavers and that’s what makes 6/8 a compound time signature.

6/8 is probably the most familiar compound time signature, but there are others too. If you want a basic principle to work by, you should look out for time signatures where the top number is divisible by three, such as 9/8, 6/4 or even 15/8. This doesn’t apply if the top number is 3 though, as those are still simple time signatures.

Let’s do the same as before and check out some real world examples:

Bach - Fantasia and Fugue in C minor, BWV537: The time signature for this piece is 6/4, so each bar contains six crotchet beats. These are grouped into two dotted minim beats. In the first bar there are two dotted minims in the lowest voice and elsewhere the quavers are beamed together in groups of six, whose combined length is a dotted minim.

Corelli - Pastorale from Concerto Grosso, Op.6 No.9: Twelve quaver beats in each bar, but these are grouped into four dotted crotchet beats.

Putting your knowledge into practice

Knowing how to identify and translate a time signature is one thing, but that’s just the first step - now we have to put this into practice so we can actually count the music we’re playing.

Is there a difference between the pulse and beat?

This is a question I’m often asked, and the simple answer is that the pulse and beat are fundamentally the same thing. The term pulse is most commonly used to refer to the gentle throb a nurse feels for in our wrist to check how fast our heart is beating. The pulse in music has the same function, recurring at regular intervals through a piece. If you tap your foot in time with music it’s the pulse you’re tapping along with.

The term beat can often be used as a synonym for pulse in music, but it’s used in other ways too. For instance, a conductor beats the time signature with their hands or a baton, but again they’re visibly indicating the pulse or beat, just as you might by tapping your foot. You may well have heard conductors using both terms and that’s where confusion often occurs - I’m sure I’ve been guilty of doing exactly this at times!

How do I know which beat to feel/count?

Knowing which type of beat to feel when playing a piece of music is dependent on several things:

  1. The style and character of the music

  2. The tempo (speed) the composer has specified

  3. Your own level of technical proficiency.

Let’s look at three different scenarios…

Simple time signatures

When faced with a piece of music in 4/4 time, the logical approach is to count four crotchet beats in each bar - after all, that’s exactly what the time signature means. Take this extract from Handel’s Water Music, for instance. The C at the start means 4/4 time and, when played at the traditional Andante sort of speed, it makes perfect sense to feel four crotchet beats in each bar - as you can see from the beat numbers I’ve added in red.

Now let’s look at a snippet from Francesco Mancini’s Recorder Sonata No.10. Here you can see we have the same time signature but the tempo indication (Largo) is slower than in the Handel. It’s entirely possible to feel a crotchet beat in this music, but the speed will probably be around 50. For many people this will feel very slow and there’s always a temptation to rush. One alternative is to subdivide the beat in your head, counting one-and-two-and etc. as I’ve shown in the music below:

A second option is to feel a quaver beat, resulting in eight quaver beats per bar, as shown below. The metronome mark of these quaver beats would be 100 to achieve the same performance speed. This may make it easier to read the rhythms and analyse the length of the notes, but there’s a risk the music can become a bit too ‘beaty’ because you’re feeling eight pulses in each bar rather than four. It’s a matter of personal preference. If you begin counting eight quaver beats you may find you can gradually slip back into feeling the slower crotchet beat as you get to know the music better.

Minim beats

This is a thorny issue for many recorder players and a topic of conversation in many rehearsals. Look through a pile of music from the eighteenth century or later and you’ll see that most music in common time is written in crotchet beats. We spend a lot of our musical lives counting in crotchet beats and these are the notes we’re first introduced to when we begin to read music.

But this hasn’t always been the case. If you delve back into music from the 16th century and earlier you’ll find much of it is written in minim beats, or sometimes even semibreve beats. To our modern eyes this notation looks slower because there’s an absence of the smaller note values. During the first decades of the early music revival in the 20th century, music editors often sought to make this music easier to read for modern musicians by creating editions where they halved the note values. Since then the needle has swung back towards a preference for authenticity in notation, allowing us to see the composer’s original intentions. As a result most modern editions of early music now retain the original time signature.

As with the Mancini example above, you could subdivide the minim beats into crotchets. In this extract from Byrd’s Fantasia I à 4 I’ve marked up the first two bars with numbers showing the minim beats. From bar five I’ve changed that to crotchet beats and you can see how much busier it looks. If you’re trying to think about two beats for each minim that’s an awful lot of mental activity in every bar. Once again the music will be in danger of feeling too ‘beaty’ and there’s a good chance you’ll slow down too.

I know a lot of musicians find it difficult counting in minim beats, but I would argue this is largely down to a lack of familiarity. We find comfort in things we know well and unfamiliar skills will always seem harder. But if we work at it, these skills become more familiar and less scary!

One solution I sometimes hear suggested is to ‘translate’ the longer note values back into something more familiar. For instance, a minim in 4/2 would be a a crotchet beat in 4/4. It’s similar to the way we mentally convert between currencies when shopping in a foreign country. But in music we need to do it in a split second while also reading the pitch of the notes, plus accidentals, articulations and dynamics!

A better solution is to take a moment before you sight read a piece to think about the relative speeds of the different note values. Spend a few seconds looking at the minims and tapping them at your chosen tempo. Then half the speed of your tapping while looking at the semibreves. Finally, double your minim speed to tap the crotchets. Over time you’ll be able to work these out more quickly, and after a while you’ll wonder why you ever found counting in minim beats so hard!

Compound time

Having dealt with simple time, the principles are very similar for compound time. The type of note value you choose to feel while playing will depend on the character and mood of the music. Let’s look at the examples I used earlier.

With Barwick Green (The Archers theme tune) you would naturally feel two dotted crotchet beats in each bar because the tempo is Allegro. To try and feel six quavers in a bar would quickly have you tied in knots!

That said, if the music is very fast your choice of speed may be dictated by your own technical limitations. For instance, if you decided to play Barwick Green and found the quavers were too fast to play at full speed, it might be better to begin at a slower tempo, counting six quaver beats in each bar. As your fluency improves you can gradually increase the speed and eventually you’ll reach a point where you can adjust back to a dotted crotchet pulse instead of quavers.

In contrast, the Bach Passacaglia is usually played at quite a slow tempo, perhaps crotchet = 72, so you would naturally count six crotchet beats in each bar, as I’ve marked below. At this tempo the dotted minim beat would be 24, which is far slower than any mere mortal can sensibly maintain!

With both simple and compound time signatures, your choice of beat will be influenced by the tempo of the music and the character you’re trying to bring to the music. The trick is to figure out what the possibilities are and make your decision according to which feels right and/or which is easier. As you get to know the music better you may decide you prefer to feel fewer beats per bar - you’re absolutely allowed to change your mind!

Irregular time signatures

I promised to come back to unusual time signatures, such as 5/4 or 7/8. These irregular time signatures can often feel uncomfortable, purely because of their irregularity.

As humans we have two of most things - eyes, ears, legs, hands etc. and because of this we like music which has a predictable left-right-left-right sort of feel to it. Music in triple (three) time doesn’t fit this description, but it does still have a regular lilting feel (think of a waltz) which comes quite naturally.

However, a time signature like 5/4 has an instant imbalance to it. A bar with five beats cannot divide neatly into two equal halves - instead you have either 3+2 or 2+3 beats. Most composers tend to set up a regular pattern in such time signatures, only deviating from it periodically. Take this short extract from Mars from Holst’s Planets, for instance. You can clearly see the bars are broken into three beats and two beats - I’ve marked the dotted minims (three beats) with triangles and the minims with square brackets. This is very consistent in every bar.

When counting a piece like this in 5/4 you have two choices. The first is to count a consistent five crotchet beats in every bar, while the alternative is feel two unequal beats per bar - in this case a dotted minim followed by a minim. This choice will almost certainly be influenced by the speed of the music. If your metronome marks is crotchet = 100 you’re probably best off counting in crotchet beats. On the other hand, if you crotchet beat is 160 it may be easier to feel a lopsided two in a bar. What you absolutely mustn’t do is add an extra beat to turn the music into a nice, balanced 6 beats per bar!

When you have to make a decision like this it’s often best it look at the full score rather than just your own part. Seeing all the voices together can make it clearer how the music break subdivides - as you can see in the extract from Marg Hall’s Klezmer Fantasia which I’ve marked up below:

If you’re playing a piece like this in a conducted group your conductor will probably explain how the music breaks down, so do pay close attention to what they’re saying!

Time changes in Renaissance music

I’ll complete this exploration of everything related to time signatures with a look at the thorny issue of time changes in Renaissance repertoire - a topic I’m often asked about.

It’s not unusual for music from the 16th century to switch from duple (2) time to triple (3) time in the middle of a piece - and sometimes back again. Of course this happens in later music too, but Renaissance repertoire is a special case because there is usually a mathematical relationship between the two time signatures. The exact nature of this relationship is not always clear and then you have the practical matter of transitioning from one to the other to consider.

During the 16th century there were two relationships between the time signatures. At the time they had different names…

Sesquialtera

This is where a whole bar of the duple time signature is the same duration (i.e. occupies the same length of time) as the new triple time. In Victoria’s O Magnum Mysterium shown below, I’ve marked the time change in red. Treating this as a Sesquialtera, the 3/2 bars would be the same length as the preceding duple time bars (each of which is a breve long), making the new minim beat very slow.

Tripla

This is the term used when the length of the new triple time signature is the same length as half of the preceding duple time. Looking back at the Victoria example above, I think this approach works much better. The new triple time bars are then the same length as the semibreve beat (half a bar) in the duple time. As a result, the minims in the triple time section are faster than in the preceding bars.

How do I tell a Sesquialtera from a Tripla?

Wouldn’t it be wonderful if there was a clear way of knowing which piece requires which approach? Absolutely it would, but sadly notation during the Renaissance was far from consistent!

Sometimes editors of modern editions will give an indication as to how they think the music should be played, showing a sort of musical equation above the score. For instance, at the change in the Victoria shown above you might see something like this:

With such a lack of clarity in the original sources the most practical approach is to try both the Sesquialtera and Tripla and see which works best. Usually one will work better than the other. In my experience the Tripla tends to occur more frequently but this is far from a fixed rule.

Practical tips for time changes

One of the questions I’m asked most often about Renaissance music is how to negotiate these sorts of time signature changes when playing. It’s all very well if you have a conductor to lead you through this minefield but I know many smaller, self-led groups struggle to figure this out. To explain the process we’ll use the Victoria O Magnum Mysterium again. Below you’ll see a short extract from the full score, which I’ve annotated, but if you’d like to refer to the whole score you can download it here.

In order to decide whether you’re going to treat the time change as a Sesquialtera (whole bar = whole bar) or a Tripla (half a bar = a whole bar of the triple time) you need to figure out the relationships between them. To explain the options you’ll see I’ve added some metronome marks. If you want to hear these speeds for yourself you can use your own metronome, or just click on the words where they’re highlighted in the text below and you’ll hear the tempi courtesy of YouTube.

Let’s begin with the Sesquialtera option…

I would normally play this piece at around minim = 120 and that means a semibreve (half a bar) = 60 and a whole bar is breve = 30. It’s very difficult to really feel 30 beats per minute as it’s so slow - that’s where a metronome can be very useful.

Looking ahead to the time change, making it a Sesquialtera means the new triple time bars (which are a dotted semibreve long) are the same length as the breve in 4/2. Now you know this, you just need to multiply the breve’s metronome mark (30) by three to find out your minim beat, which is 90. As I mentioned earlier, that means the new minim beat is still pretty slow and I find this relationship quite hard to feel instinctively.

Sesquialtera - a whole bar of the new 3/2 time signature is the same length as a whole bar of the preceding 4/2.

If the Sesquialtera doesn’t feel natural, let’s see if the Tripla works better…

Here the opening speed remains the same, but the new 3/2 bars are the same length as half a bar of the 4/2. Therefore the semibreve = 60 of the 4/2 becomes a dotted semibreve = 60 in the new 3/2. To find out the new minim beat multiply by three, which makes them minim = 180. Yes, this is a fast beat, but it makes for a livelier effect and I think it creates a more natural relationship between the two time signatures.

Tripla - a whole bar of the new 3/2 time signature is the same length as half a bar of the preceding 4/2.

The process I’ve described above is what I do when I’m preparing to work on a piece of Renaissance music like this with an ensemble. I work out the relative speeds for both Sesquialtera and Tripla and decide which seems more natural. If I’m honest, I probably opt for the Tripla more often, but it’s good to explore both.

Putting the time change into practice

Having decided which option you’re going to use, the next task is to put your decision into practice. With time and experience you may find you’ll begin to make these transitions instinctively, but I have some tips to help you get to that point. Again, I’m using the Victoria as a practical example - you can download the complete score here if you haven’t already done so.

  1. Break the piece down into sections. Having decided on your opening speed, begin by practising all sections which share the same time signature. In the case of the Victoria this means rehearsing from the beginning up to bar 52 and from bar 67 to the end. After a few repetitions the music will begin to feel familiar and you’ll develop some ‘muscle memory’ for this speed.

  2. Practise the 3/2 section separately. Now use your metronome to remind yourself of the new speed at the 3/2 and play this section. Try playing it with a minim beat or the slower one-in-a-bar dotted semibreve beat and see which feels better for you. Repeat the section several times so the speed becomes really settled in your mind. Do check back with your metronome to ensure you’re maintaining the new tempo.

  3. Now practise the transitions. This is where you combine the two time signatures. By now you should be comfortable playing the different sections, so try moving from one to the other and the muscle memory you’ve built up will carry you across the joins.

You can use this process for any piece of music with abrupt tempo changes like this, whether it’s from the Renaissance or any other period of music.

~ ~ ~

Has this completed some of the gaps in your knowledge? Or maybe you still have questions? Answering one question often reveals other areas you’d like to know more about, so please do leave a comment below with your thoughts. My aim is always to broaden your musical knowledge and the most efficient way I can do that is by responding to your needs - I’d love to hear your ideas and requests!

An instrument of many different characters

For many people the first image to come to mind when the recorder is mentioned will be the descant they encountered during their school years - quite possibly a plastic one, played very badly. But those of us in the know understand our favourite instrument has many more facets. Even so, many recorder players are really only familiar with mass produced Baroque style instruments, whether they’re made from plastic or wood.

Throughout history, the music composed for the recorder has changed, and the instrument has evolved in parallel to suit new fashions and styles. This is the first of a series of blog posts about the recorder’s different characteristics, exploring the way the instrument’s design has changed over the last six centuries. Today I’m going to talk about Renaissance and Baroque recorders. Since the recorder’s revival in the early twentieth century there have been many more developments, but I’ll talk about those in a subsequent post.

There’s absolutely nothing wrong with using Baroque style recorders to explore our varied repertoire, but maybe this will open your eyes to the way a historically appropriate design of recorder can influence the way music from different periods is performed.

The Medieval period

The oldest surviving recorders date back to the fourteenth century. The best known is perhaps the Dordecht recorder, found in the Netherlands in 1940. These ancient instruments are a simple design, made from a single piece of wood, but they share the recognisable features of our modern recorders - a windway created by the insertion of a fipple (the block) into the mouthpiece and a thumb hole to allow for a greater range of notes than a simple whistle. Sadly many of the surviving recorders are in poor condition as their wooden construction made them prone to damage or decay after they were discarded.

Renaissance recorders

By the time we reach the Renaissance period, we not only have a much larger array of surviving original instruments to study, but plenty of imagery too. This illustration, taken from Michael Praetorius’ treatise Syntagma Musicum (1614-20), clearly shows a sizeable family of recorders, from tiny to large.

The Renaissance look

Renaissance recorders look very different to the Baroque ones we often play today. The smaller instruments, from the tenor upwards, were usually made from a single piece of wood, while the larger recorders were creates in two pieces. Their outline tends to be very simple, with few decorative features - a straight body with a flared bell.

Another detail you may notice from the image above is the appearance of two holes for finger seven (clearest on the 6th recorder from the left). This allows the instrument to be played with the left or the right at the top and the unused hole would have been filled with wax. Larger recorders needed keys to make the lowest notes playable and these were made with a characteristic butterfly shape for the same reason. It’s normal to play with the left hand uppermost today, but if you study paintings from this era you’ll see they feature both left and right handed recorder players fairly equally.

A consort of recorders by Adrian Brown, based on an image from Sebastian Virdung's treatise Musica getutscht. The recording below was performed on a consort like this.

The elegant butterfly keys were only necessary for the larger sizes of recorder - certainly on basses and on some tenors too. The lower part of the key was often covered with a fontanelle made of perforated metal or wood. This protected the vulnerable mechanism, but added a decorative element too. The holes in the fontenelle also allow air to escape - without these it would have a negative effect on the tuning.

You might think that having instruments made from a single piece of wood would create difficulties with tuning – after all, you can’t adjust the pitch of a single piece recorder by pulling out the headjoint. Recorders of this period were almost always made in consorts at one pitch, so this was less of a problem than we would consider it today.

Most Renaissance bass (or basset as Praetorius calls them) recorders were direct blow models, although you need longer arms to play these compared to modern knick basses. Larger bass instruments existed too, the longest of which is listed in the inventory of Queen Mary of Hungary. It’s described as being a ‘baras’ in length - that’s about two and a half metres! For these largest recorders a crook or bocal is needed to carry the player’s breath to the windway, as you can see in the Praetorius image earlier. The video below features the Royal Wind Music performing on a consort of low recorders and you can see at close quarters the additions needed to make the biggest ones playable!

Not just recorders in C and F

Today’s recorders tend to use mostly C and F fingerings, but Renaissance recorders weren’t so consistent. Consorts of instruments were often pitched a 5th part - for instance a basset in F, a tenor in C, a treble in G and perhaps even a descant in D. These letters always refer to the lowest note of the recorder. To our modern brains playing recorders in G and D might require greater mental gymnastics than we’re used to, but I’m sure Renaissance musicians were entirely comfortable reading at any pitch, playing from a greater variety of clefs than we expect today too.

Renaissance tone begins inside the recorder

While Renaissance recorders look simpler on the outside, the shape of the internal bore is also very different. Inevitably this varies between the historical instruments which survive today, but they all have certain similarities. The bore tends to be mostly cylindrical, but with a noticeable flare at the bottom end. It’s this internal shape that influences the characteristics of the recorder’s tone and response.

Recorders from the Renaissance, often have a slightly smaller range than Baroque models - sometimes as little as an octave and six notes. Most music echoed the range of the human voice though, so this wasn’t a great restriction for composers. The lowest notes tend to be much richer and stronger, often demanding greater reserves of breath to fill out the tone. Because of this strength of tone more incisive articulation is also possible, making it easier to bring out the complexities of counterpoint and melodic shapes we so often see in Renaissance music. You can hear this clearly in Sirena’s performance of La Lusignola by Tarquinio Merula.

Fingerings and pitch

Most mass produced modern recorders are played with a pretty standard set of fingerings. The different bore shape of Renaissance recorders requires some variations on these fingerings. For instance, the ninth note from the bottom (middle D on a tenor recorder, or G on a treble) would have been played by covering none of the finger holes rather than using finger 2 as we would today. Handmade professional consorts of Renaissance recorders, such as those by Adrian Brown or Tom Prescott, retain these authentic fingerings. However, many of the more affordable consorts by makers such as Moeck and Mollenhauer, have been tweaked to allow the use of the more familiar modern fingerings.

Some time ago I shared a blog about the history of pitch, where we discovered that the standardisation of musical pitch is really quite a recent concept. During the Renaissance period music was generally performed at a higher pitch than we would expect today, and as a result some modern copies of old instruments are made at A=466. This is a pitch of convenience which has become internationally recognised, but it wouldn’t have been the case then. Instruments would have been crafted to match the pitch of instruments which can’t easily be adjusted, such as church organs, and pitch would probably have varied from village to village. The solution was to make recorders in matching consorts so you could make music together - undoubtedly why King Henry VIII’s inventory lists no fewer than 76 recorders!

Before you buy…

If you’re thinking about purchasing some Renaissance style instruments it’s important to consider how you’ll use them first.

Many professional ensembles commission a matching set of consort instruments from their preferred recorder maker. This creates a well matched sound and makes the tuning easier. Such instruments are often pitched at A=466 - around a semitone higher than modern concert pitch. If you only play the recorders together this is fine, but it’s probably more practical to stick with A440 if you want to have the flexibility to play with others.

The Renaissance instruments offered by the mainstream recorder brands are a good place to start if you want to dip your toes into this sound world at a more modest price point. I use Mollenhauer’s Kynseker instruments, but there are similarly priced Renaissance instruments available from Moeck and Peter Kobliczek, and it’s worth keeping a lookout for instruments for sale secondhand.

The Ganassi recorder - reality or myth?

In his 1535 treatise Opera intitulata Fontegara Sylvestro Ganassi reveals his discovery of a further octave of notes above those normally played on the recorder. He shares fingering charts for these additional high notes, noting adjustments which need to be made to one’s breath and articulation to achieve them.

The title page of Ganassi’s Opera intitulata Fontegara, featuring a consort of recorder players.

One thing Ganassi doesn’t include is a detailed description of the type of recorder required to play these notes. In the 1970s unsuccessful efforts were made to locate an original recorder capable of playing with his fingerings. In the absence of such an instrument, several contemporary makers, such as Fred Morgan, Alec Loretto and Bob Marvin, created their own designs to fill this gap. Externally they were modelled on pictures from La Fontegara, but much experimentation was needed to find the appropriate bore shape and level of flare at the bell to work with Ganassi’s fingerings. Ultimately the ‘Ganassi’ recorder is a modern creation, but still much loved by players today. I have a Von Huene Ganassi descant myself and love its rich tone, full low notes and the ease with which it plays the higher notes.

Baroque recorders - a change of purpose

The concept of the recorder as a consort instrument became less pervasive as time passed. There’s a small handful of pieces composed specifically for recorder consort (the Schmelzer Sonata à 7 is probably the most familiar) but in general the instrument took on a new musical role. As composers began to include the recorder in chamber music with other instruments and as the solo line in concertos a new sound and style was needed.

Whereas the Renaissance consort used the different sizes of recorder equally, during the Baroque the treble became the most popular size of instrument. The other recorders didn’t entirely fall out of use, but it was the treble that Bach, Telemann and Handel chose to use in their solo sonatas, cantatas, chamber music and concertos in combination with many other instruments. For instance, Bach’s Brandenburg Concerto No.2 has four soloists, playing recorder, oboe, violin and trumpet.

Baroque elegance

At first glance the biggest change to the Baroque recorder is its external shape. Gone is the one piece design. Almost all recorders from this period (aside from some sopraninos and descants) are made from three pieces - the headjoint, body and footjoint. Creating breaks in the instrument adds points of weakness, so makers compensated by making the wood thicker here. These bulbous points added strength, but also created an opportunity for decoration - a stylistic feature we also see in Baroque architecture and fashion. Some makers took this to extremes, using complex wood turning and ivory rings.

The iconic image from Hotteterre’s 1707 treatise on playing the recorder, flute and oboe. The recorder’s decoration is as ornate as the player’s cuffs!

Another change to the Baroque recorder is the shape of the mouthpiece - often elegantly carved to look more like a beak. This has no effect on the tone, but was no doubt more in keeping with Baroque style and elegance. This feature also brought us the French name for the instrument - flute á bec.

At the other end of the recorder, another innovation was introduced by Peter Bressan - the addition of double holes for the lowest two notes. We take such luxuries for granted today, but this simple innovation makes the lowest semitones stronger and  clearer - something that would become more important as music became more chromatic.

Many recorders have survived from the 18th century and can be seen in museums around the world. Fortunately contemporary makers have been allowed to examine these instruments and take measurements, resulting in modern copies for us to play today. Look at any recorder maker’s website and you’ll find recorders based on those by Peter Bressan, Jean-Jacques Rippert, Jacob Denner, Thomas Stanesby and others.

Inside the Baroque recorder

The Baroque recorder doesn’t just look different on the outside - the interior also changed to meet the demands of the new music. The headjoint remains almost cylindrical, but a taper is introduced through the body of the instrument, becoming most extreme at the footjoint. This taper has two purposes. From a practical point of view it allows for more comfortable placing of the fingerholes, but more importantly it greatly affects the sound of the instrument. Gone are the fruity low notes - the lowest tones are now much gentler. By way of compensation, the high notes are much stronger and easier to play - perfect for the florid passagework of Bach and his contemporaries. The Baroque recorder has a larger range too - at least two octaves and a note, but some composers (particularly Telemann) went further still, expecting players to reach the giddy heights of top C on the treble from time to time!

Mimicking the human voice

While recorders in C and F were the most common, a handful of other variations exist too. One of these is the Voice Flute - a recorder which sits between the treble and tenor, whose lowest note is D. The voice flute probably originated in the court of King Louis XIV of France, in Lully’s orchestra. It allowed recorder players to play music originally intended for the flute at the correct pitch. Of course its range, from the D above middle C also mimics that of the female human voice and this is likely to be the origin of its name.

It was commonplace during the Baroque to transpose flute music a minor third higher to place it within reach of the treble recorder. But this makes the music sound brighter and loses some of the mellower tonal qualities of the transverse flute. The voice flute, with its lower pitch, retains some of this character, while also being as agile as the treble recorder. Several original voice flutes survive today and modern copies based upon instruments by Bressan, Rippert and Stanesby are available for those who wish to explore this lovely sound world.

Other curiosities

Smaller recorders became less common during the Baroque period, but a handful of wonderful works exist for the higher instruments. Vivaldi composed three concertos for the ‘flautino’ or sopranino, although his scores also indicate that the music can be played a fourth lower on the descant.

The descant recorder and its close relatives also largely fell out of fashion at this time, although a handful of composers persisted with it in England. The names of such recorders often described their relationship to the treble recorder. Therefore the descant was a fifth flute because it’s pitched a fifth above the treble. It’s this recorder for which Giuseppe Sammartini, an Italian oboist working in London, composed his delightful concerto.

Alongside the descant there are two other variants. The fourth flute was pitched in B flat, a fourth above the treble and sounds rather mellower than the modern descant. It’s something of an anomaly, but two lovely suites by Dieupart survive for this instrument.

A more common small recorder (at least in England) was the sixth flute, sounding a sixth above the treble, and an octave above the voice flute. Three composers, William Babell, Robert Woodcock and John Baston, chose this as their instrument of choice for their charming concertos. These were almost certainly composed to be played between the acts of operas in London and the high pitch would no doubt have commanded the audience’s attention.

Should you invest in different types of recorder?

The decision of buy different types of recorders is a very personal one. If your playing comes as part of a massed ensemble, such as an SRP branch, a Baroque style recorder may suit your needs just fine.

On the other hand, if you play lots of Renaissance music, especially in smaller consorts, using historically appropriate instruments may help you get closer to the sound world of the period. Renaissance recorders require a different style of playing, from breath control to articulation, and can help you understand the music better. During my first year at music college our department invested in a double consort of Mollenhauer Kynseker recorders. We immediately noticed the difference. Suddenly we could use the appropriate articulation to bring out the cross rhythms and it was much easier to create sweetly tuned chords. Even when recording my consort videos now, I always use my Kynseker recorders for Renaissance repertoire and I hope perhaps you can hear some of these differences in the tone, style and articulation.

Ultimately your choice may come down to budget - after all, none of us have bottomless pockets. If this is the case and you have no plans to buy more recorders, I would still encourage you to at least try them when you have an opportunity - perhaps at an early music festival or during a recorder course where there’s an in house recorder shop. Trying a Renaissance recorder or voice flute for even a few minutes will give you a glimpse into these different sound worlds and a greater understanding of how the instruments we play can change the way we play the music written for them.

Everyday Recorder Keep Fit

How often do you practise your recorder? Don’t worry, I’m not making a judgement about your playing or commitment to the instrument, but I am interested. For some people recorder playing is a skill they diligently practise every day, while for others it may be a fun activity they only do in the company of others. Of course, there’s a sliding scale of possibilities between these two options!

Bending the laws of physics

For many of us, simply finding the time to practise is the biggest problem - modern life makes so many demands on our time that it’s easy to neglect our music making.

I don’t know about you, but I often find myself wishing I could bend the laws of physics, creating the occasional 36 hour long day or 8 day week. Now I think about it, perhaps that isn’t such a great idea… Parkinson’s Law (coined by author Cyril Northcote Parkinson in 1955) dictates that work always expands to fill the time available. No doubt, if I had a 36 hour day at my disposal the boring stuff would still squeeze out the time for music making!

Of course, practice doesn’t need to occupy many hours every day – you can make gains in a short time if you know how. When I studied at music college I habitually practised for three or four hours each day. But when I emerged into the world of work I swiftly realised this was no longer practical. To compensate I taught myself to practise more efficiently, learning to achieve in 30 minutes what would once have taken an hour or more.

If you’re busy, don’t neglect the basics…

Inevitably we tend to focus on actually playing music - that’s the fun part of playing the recorder. But by neglecting the basics of technique you may compromise the quality of your music making too.

Below you’ll find a three step programme to help you hone your technique - think of it as a daily keep fit workout for your recorder playing. None of these exercises will take more than a few minutes, but if you do them regularly you will notice differences in your playing.

I’ve broken them down into three easy steps, each of which will take five minutes of your time. Now, you’re supposed to spend two minutes, morning and evening cleaning your teeth and I bet you spend those four minutes brushing without giving it a second thought. Just one of these steps takes only a minute longer. If you’re still thinking, “But I haven’t got the time”, just think of it as one of those non-negotiable tasks we all carry out every day without fail.

First things first…

Always have a recorder out and ready to play!

The simple task of assembling your instrument can create inertia, so why not keep an instrument out together and ready to play at all times? An inexpensive plastic recorder won’t take up a lot of space on your table. If it’s there, staring you in the face every time you walk past, you’re much more likely to pick it up and play!

If you have five spare minutes a day…

Let’s begin by thinking about your breathing and tone:

Step one… Spend a minute breathing deeply, really filling your lungs with air. Keep your stomach relaxed so it can expand as you breathe in. Initially, exhale freely, enjoying the benefits of all that oxygen. As I often tell the recorder players I meet, breathing is an excellent thing to do, whether playing the recorder or in every day life!

Next, try hissing as you exhale, gently squeezing your stomach muscles to control the speed of the air. Varying the strength of movement in your stomach muscles, you’ll hear the sound of your hissing change as the breath moves faster and slower.

Step two… Use the rest of your five minutes to play a simple scale slowly. And I mean really slowly – perhaps four steady beats on each note. Breathe as often as you need to - every couple of notes if need be. On every single note really listen critically to your sound.

Do you enjoy your tone? If not, try using faster or slower air (using your stomach muscles, as in step one above) until you can make a full, rich sound on every note.

If you have ten spare minutes a day…

The next step is to make your fingers neater. Practise all the items above, plus the following:

Step one… Break your chosen scale down into groups of five notes and play these groups up and down, slurring every note. Begin slowly, playing the notes as whole beats at a speed of crotchet=72. Really focus on the quality of your finger changes – make small, quick movements. Playing in front of a mirror is handy to check you’re not lifting your fingers too far from the instrument.

Step two… When you need to move several fingers together, use a mirror to check they’re moving at exactly the same time. You may need to be more proactive with the fingers you lift as these don’t have gravity to help them!

If you have fifteen minutes a day…

You’re making progress on your tone and fingers now, so let’s build up some speed too. Practise all the exercises above, plus these:

Step one… Using the same five note scale patterns you practised in the last step, gradually increase their speed. Continue slurring all the notes. Really listen to the notes (close your eyes – it’ll make you listen more carefully!) and ask yourself if they’re completely smooth and even. If your fingers begin to rush away, use a metronome to help you control the speed.

Step two… Now put your five note patterns back together into a complete scale and repeat the process. This’ll demand more concentration and will help you take stock of your progress.

Don’t forget to keep listening to your tone - aim to maintain the beautiful sound you honed in step one at the same time!

Make yourself a promise…

My challenge to you is to practise these exercises every day for a whole month. Now much as I would love to be able to check in with you all on your progress, that would require me to have days which last at least 96 hours! Instead, make a promise to yourself that you’ll stick with it.

If you can make these simple exercises part of your every day routine, you will see results in a month’s time. If you don’t believe me, why not record your first session? The voice memo app on any smartphone is all you need, or a cassette recorder for those who prefer more retro technology! After a month, record yourself again and listen back to both for comparison.

I’d love to hear how you get on with this. Why not share your experiences in the comments below? Or perhaps you already have your own daily recorder ‘keep fit’ routine - if you do I’d love to hear more!

Sounding Pipes, Edition 5

When do you listen to music? Do you make time to sit down and give it your full attention, or are you a multitasker, enjoying music as an accompaniment while you do other things? I have a to confess I’m not very good at the latter approach - I tend to get distracted by the music, perpetually analysing what I’m hearing. But I do have one time each day when I can explore, and that’s when I’m at the gym or out for a brisk walk around our village.

This week I wandered the country lanes near home, listening to an eclectic mix of repertoire and I’m pleased to be able to share some of my discoveries with you in the latest of my Sounding Pipes playlist. I’ve dug out a varied selection of music, exploring the recorder’s rich repertoire. Some of the pieces are works you may have played yourself, but I hope you’ll discover some new repertoire here too.

Francesco Mancini - Sonata No.7 in C major

Francesco Mancini: Six Recorder Sonatas - performed by IJ SPACE, featuring Yi-Chang Liang (recorder), Machiko Suto (harpsichord), Asako Ueda (archlute) and Chia-Hua Chiang (baroque ‘cello). Claves CD1907

Mention the name Mancini to most people and they’ll probably think of Henry Mancini (composer of the Baby Elephant Walk and the Pink Panther theme) but his 18th century namesake is someone whose music every recorder player should explore. He was active as a teacher and composer in Naples, writing 29 operas plus a mixture of other vocal and instrumental work. His twelve recorder sonatas are beautiful works, composed so sympathetically for the instrument.

There are several recordings available of Mancini’s recorder sonatas, but this one captured my imagination with its fluidity and beautiful musical textures. Adding an archlute or theorbo to the continuo team is a stroke of genius and seems to make the music sparkle. Yi-Chang Liang is a beautiful player, adding his own exquisite ornamentation to enhance the melodic lines. I’d not come across him before, but he’s also a member of the Royal Wind Music and is evidently someone to watch.

If you don’t already know the Mancini recorder sonatas (and even if you do, for that matter!) I recommend exploring the whole of Yi-Chang Liang’s album as I’m sure you’ll find lots to inspire you. You can find a playlist containing all the tracks here.

Dick Koomans - The Jogger

Amsterdam Loeki Stardust Quartet - Pictured Air. Channel CCS8996

It’s almost thirty years since Dick Koomans composed The Jogger for the Amsterdam Loeki Stardust Quartet, and in that time it’s become a classic of the recorder quartet repertoire. I remember hearing them perform it in a recital at the Wigmore Hall as a teenager and I was blown away by the sheer energy of the music. This performance is quirky combination of live performance and pop video. We see Bertho Driver, one of the quartet members, frantically running through the streets, pulling a large case (presumably full of recorders) behind him as he dashes for the tram. You can sense his heart pounding through the music, ending with a flourish of Bach and a moment of total collapse.


Johann Heinrich Schmelzer - Sonata à 7

The Royal Wind Music - Alla dolce ombra’ Lindoro MPC0712

The Schmelzer Sonata is a rarity in the recorder consort repertoire - a piece originally composed specifically for recorder consort from the Baroque era. The instrument was a popular choice for solo and chamber music, but for some reason few composers of this period chose to write consort music. Of course, there’s lots of Baroque repertoire we can play if we don’t mind borrowing from other instruments, but there’s a satisfaction to be had from performing music composed with our instrument in mind.

This Sonata is always a popular choice with ensembles, although I’ve heard many a consort come to grief in the central section, with its unpredictable fugal entries. This performance, by The Royal Wind Music, is particularly lovely - played at both four foot and eight foot pitch, in a warm, resonant acoustic. If you’ve never played the Schmelzer yourself and this whets your appetite, I made a consort video of it back in August 2020 which you can find here, along with the music. You’re very welcome to round up six friends to join you, or just play along with me!

Michael Nyman - If from The Diary of Anne Frank

Echoing Voices - Andrea Ritter (recorders) & Daniel Koschitski (piano). ARS Produktion ARS38098

The diary written by Anne Frank during her time spent in hiding from Nazi persecution between 1942 and 1944 has inspired a vast number of films and documentaries, but until this week I hadn’t come across the animated film made in Japan in 1995. The music for it was composed by Michael Nyman, including this song, If, which has been recorded in countless different ways, both instrumental and vocal.

In this particular recording we hear Andrea Ritter playing the vocal line on the bass recorder, accompanied at the piano by Daniel Koschitzki, who you may also have come across as a recorder player in the Amsterdam Loeki Stardust Quartet. I defy you not to be moved by this heartbreakingly beautiful melody.


J.S. Bach Organ Sonata No.6 in G major, BWV530

Piracy: Baroque Music Stolen for the Recorder - Genevieve Lacey (recorders) & Linda Kent (harpsichord & chamber organ) ABC Classics 28948171293

Borrowing music from other instruments is something we do all the time to supplement the recorder’s repertoire and this particular piece is one I’ve played myself. Bach composed six organ sonatas in the late 1720s. Some of the movements are reworkings of earlier music (often taken from his many cantatas), but No.6 is the one work in the collection where he started completely afresh. In its original form, Bach writes three melodic lines - one for the organist’s right hand, the second for the left and the lowest voice for the pedals - and they’re all equally important. From that perspective they are ripe for transcription and this Sonata works particularly well when the right hand line is played on the recorder, leaving the keyboard player just two voices to cope with - quite enough for most mere mortals!

In this beautiful recording the Australian recorder player Genevieve Lacey pairs a tenor recorder with a Baroque chamber organ (played by Linda Kent) and this subtle pairing means it’s tricky at times to know where the voice of the recorder ends and the organ begins - they’re just perfectly matched.


J.S. Bach - Orchestral Suite No.3 - Ouverture

Orchestral Suites Nos.1-4: Ton Koopman & Amsterdam Baroque Orchestra Deutsche HM G010003033955W

While my Sounding Pipes playlists are always predominantly going to feature the recorder, sometimes I like to include other mediums, especially if there’s a connection to the other resources I share with you. My consort for this week was the Rondeau from Bach’s 2nd Orchestral Suite and in my accompanying Hints & Tips video I suggest you get into the habit of listening to good recordings of music to gain a better insight into the type of articulation and phrasing used for Baroque music. I couldn’t resist sharing such a recording here and I plumped for the Ouverture from Bach’s 3rd Orchestral Suite - my favourite of the four. This is one of Bach’s most extravagant pieces of orchestral music, featuring oboes, bassoon, trumpets and timpani alongside the strings, but the performance practices used are just the same as in the smaller scale music we play on the recorder.

While reading about the Suites I was interested to learn that Bach probably added the wind instruments later to enhance his string writing. When deciding which recording to share here I found I was too attached to the richer orchestral sound, but if you’re intrigued to hear Bach’s pared down original you can find it here, directed by Lars Ulrich Mortensen.

If you enjoyed playing the Rondeau I shared over on my Consorts page, you can listen to the original version for flute and strings here and, just for good measure, all four Orchestral Suites can be found here! You can never have too much Bach….

The Fool on the Hill

Tali Rubinstein - recorders

It’s become something of a tradition for me to share a more lighthearted piece in each of my Sounding Pipes playlists and this fun video by Tali Rubinstein immediately caught my attention when it was suggested to me by the YouTube algorithm. Long time readers will know I’m a fan of The Beatles, and Paul McCartney plays the recorder in their original version of this song. If you want a quirky fact to share with friends (who knows, it might come in handy in a pub quiz one day too…), he was taught to play the recorder by Margaret Asher, mother of actor Jane Asher, when he lodged with the family in the early 1960s. To this day he often uses the instrument in his solo albums.

Tali Rubinstein’s recording of The Fool on the Hill has clear echoes of The Beatles’ original, but she adds her own virtuosic flair, even sneaking in a snippet of Here Comes the Sun along the way. Whether this is your favourite sort of music or not, I defy you not to be smiling by the time you reach the end!

So there you have edition five of Sounding Pipes - hopefully you found some inspiration and entertainment along the way. If you’ve discovered some recorder shaped gems through your own musical explorations do share them in the comments below so we can all share the enjoyment!