German Version of this article
Part I: The Composer's Language - the expressive aspects
Part II: Your Own Voice - developing technical aspects to serve the expressive aspectsWhat is in fact taught at a conservatory? A certain number of traditional rules, very limited in date and geographical provenance; after which any student wanting to enter the contemporary field must, as it were, jump with a miniature parachute, taking his life in his hands. How many are brave enough to make that jump? And how many feel strong enough?
Pierre Boulez - Orientations
Although I have made this jump, I make no claims of bravery or strength - sheer doggedness perhaps. Having made this jump I hope to help others who are stumped with some of the curiosities (interpretational and technical) presented by the contemporary repertoire, and to offer some basic practical guidelines. My personal experience – although extensive enough - has not been exhaustive; therefore I will focus on several specific composers and pieces. I hope that my adventures and attempts to present these works in public will serve as a basis for some general rules of preparation and, dare I say, be an inspiration as well.
At this introductory stage I will say a few words about my jump. Since 1997 I have been a full-time member of several contemporary music ensembles, and I regularly perform as a soloist of the "standard" modern repertoire and works that I have commissioned.
I suppose what first opened my eyes to the possibilities of interpretation of modern works was my participation in the Gaudeamus Interpreter’s Competition in 1995. My own performance was obviously lacking in convincing interpretation – I was duly tossed out after the first round; however, this gave me leisure to listen to the remaining participants in the second and final rounds. The interesting thing about this competition is that it is open to all instruments, singers and even ensembles; and because its age limit is 35, the level is generally quite high - one has a chance to hear many mature performances. I realized quickly that there was another dimension beyond my flutey technical problems - and in cold hard reality only few are particularly interested in flute playing and flute repertoire. All in all there are only a certain number of exceptionally good pieces written for the flute that non-flutists really want to hear. What counts is what you give musically and that fascinating interplay of what the composer has intended with your own creativity.
How do we "interpret" a piece of contemporary music? What can we express through our playing, how can we compel our public?
At the beginning stages, the most crucial part of your quest is to research and familiarize yourself with the composer's other works, and perhaps more interestingly, find out what music or sounds inspired the composer. Listen, listen, listen! This can provide incredibly valuable insight. Here are some specific suggestions:
Luciano Berio, Sequenza no. 1: listen to the Sequenza no. 3 for voice (even though the vocal Sequenza post-dates that of the flute). Listen to a recording of Cathy Berberian for whom the piece was written (recorded on the Wergo label), or Luisa Castellani (Deutsche Gramophon). If you ever have a chance to hear Ms. Castellani perform this piece live, jump at it; she does a stunning job from memory.
Edgar Varèse, Density 21.5: listen to the woodwind solos in the ensemble pieces: Intégrales, Hyperprism and Octandre. Poeme Electronique, his last finished work, I believe, shows how he realized his concept of blocks of sound electronically. This piece, architecturally inspired by LeCorbusier, seems to be a culmination of his ideals.
Toru Takemitsu, Voice or Itinérant : Listen to some traditional shakuhachi playing as well as music from Noh theater, although Takemitsu only later in his career composed with traditional Japanese elements and for Japanese instruments. In November Steps, a concerto for solo biwa and shakuhachi, you can hear how he combines these traditional instruments with modern orchestration. He was also a composer for films. Watching the films for which he wrote music can give you an idea of his ideas about timing and movement.
Kazuo Fukushima, Mei, Shun-San, Requiem - of course one can listen to traditional Japanese Noh-Kan music, but it is also interesting to know about the role of the voice of the flute in some oriental traditions. One that may help you (or possibly give you the creeps) is that the flute is the one sound that can connect the living world with the non-living.
Salvatore Sciarrino, Opera per flauto vol. 1 & 2 : Each piece in this two volume set exists in its own sound universe through the exploitation of a particular set of extended effects. For me it was useful to hear how he translates some of the same effects to other instruments such as the clarinet solo Let me die before I wake. His ensemble pieces Esplorazione del Bianco and Introduzione all'oscuro are good examples of how he creates a specific atmosphere using particular effects. 1
Finding a composer's sources of inspiration can be done by reading about their histories or reading their own writings . Writings and biographies of well-known composers should be easy to find through libraries or the internet. One can also try:
Information about lesser-known composers may be scant, or recordings of their works may not be available. In this case, don't despair, ask around - use your own resources, knowledge of different styles, and the knowledge of colleagues or friends. Ask the advice of other composers. If they are amenable, offer to play for them. Sometimes it has helped me to play for someone who is trained to listen to form.
To capture the expressive and dramatic style of the composer, I often rely on a practice idea that I picked up from Robert Dick: Play a passage of the piece you are working on, then turn the music away from you and improvise a passage in the same style, using the same range, dynamic inflections, length of phrases, etc. Once you've put yourself through this creative process, go back to the written passage. I always find something fresh to consider - perhaps a new inflection, a different color progression, or maybe a new sense of rhythmic clarity.
When searching for expressive solutions, the world of the visual arts can sometimes provide interesting insights.
Here is one example of how visits to museums helped me to solve an expressive problem:
While working on the Berio Sequenza from memory I started to wonder, what does one actually do with the mind while performing? Some performers may have a photographic memory and are able to visualize the score during performance. Not having this ability, I needed something to focus on, to keep my visual area from being distracted by the audience. (Playing with your eyes closed is not a good option when trying to communicate).
I do see this as a problem of expression: from the point of stage choreography, playing solos from memory is a challenge for flutists. Pianists are in profile, violinists are also a bit angled so their f-holes are facing the audience. Even clarinetists can pretend to look down at their fingers. And unlike singers, we do not have total facial freedom, nor can we hide behind a mask of facial expression (the bottom half of our face being otherwise engaged). We also do not have the words to carry the expression. Since we face the audience directly, we need a special courage and a strong method of focus. Of course, you can focus on the "exit" sign at the back of the hall, but still, what are you doing with your mind? I don't want to be thinking of the "exit" sign!
One tells children to "think up a story" as an aid to performance. However, that hardly seemed appropriate for a work such as the Sequenza, and could prove even more distracting than the audience. What helped in the end was to allow abstract images to form on their own, inspired and dependent on the sounds I produced during performance. This allowed me to concentrate on the actual sounds I was producing and not be distracted by any preconceived, representational, artificially imposed images or thoughts.
These images that I formed were inspired by visits to the Stedelijk and Van Gogh museums in Amsterdam. I was also able to think of a color scheme and progression that helped me through the opening of Franco Donatoni's Midi, which can otherwise seem like a salad of endless noodles.
In yoga, the focus of your eyes is called drishti. Sometimes it is straight ahead, sometimes the tip of your nose, sometimes your belly button (not recommended for flutists!). Do whatever it takes to develop your own drishti - and be relaxed in the focus of your eyes, this will help you to concentrate.
This is why I often think of silence in as colorfully characteristic terms as possible:
Another interesting interpretation of silence is to see it as YOUR turn now to listen to the audience. I recently read about this and can't remember to whom this idea should be credited!
The type of silence you create will be determined not only by how you move, or how still you are, but how you breathe during the silence. It is interesting to see how Heinz Hollinger composed silences in his solo flute piece (t'aire) with specific durations and written directions such as "hold breath as long as possible", "inhale slowly", and "inhale imperceptibly".
This kind of choreography plays an important role in interpretation, and not only during the silent parts! Allow me to make a negative example: Peter Lloyd likes to tell of a student of his who played the Berio Sequenza beautifully. However, the constant languid, swaying movements of the student distracted him, especially since such movements are appropriate only momentarily (if at all) in the Sequenza. This is an important lesson. While you are busy giving an audience a well-thought-out interpretation, make sure your body does not betray you by telling a conflicting story!
Lots of notes, lots of black ink. You'd think Jackson Pollock had some influence on these guys, but take a closer look. Once one has recovered from the usual dizziness, you can break down the areas of difficulty, for example:
If you want to find out mathematically where you should clap in relation to the beat - I do the following: say you have polyrhythm "a:b" where "a" is the number of beats you are clapping against "b" which is the number of metronome beats. Divide "b" number of beats in to units of "a", then clap every "b" of these units.
Let's look at an example: three against four, or 3:4. Divide 4 ("b") into units of 3 ("a"). You now have 4 beats of triplets.
Graphically, you can describe the metronome beats as " / " , and the subdivisions as " . " This is what it would look like:
/ . . / . . / . . / . .
Now clap every 4 ("b") of these units (triplet, in this case). Graphically, if you represent the clap by " + " this is what you will play:
+ . . / + . / . + / . .
2. Now internalize the rhythm further by playing single repeated notes or a short scale pattern in the polyrhythm. For example if you have 4:5, you can take Taffanel-Gaubert Ex. 1 or 2, playing those 4 note patterns against 5 beats.
3. Now play the polyrhythm as written.
If the polyrhythms are not organically conceived (that is, related to a sense of pulse), how can a performer approach them? One approach is to see each individual measure as an "area of activity". This is helpful in the works Brian Ferneyhough, who describes the measure as a "domain of a certain energy quotient".
If a measure is seen as an "area of activity", it is important to know the level of activity represented. As long as one is given a starting tempo, it is possible to reckon the length of any measure (or even an individual note) through simple mathematical calculations.
This way, if the rhythm cannot be felt as a pulse, one can at least memorize the speed in which it is supposed to happen. Surprisingly, it's sometimes much slower than one thinks!
Ferneyhough's Superscriptio for solo piccolo is a good example. The basic given tempo is an eighth-note at 56. This means a whole note in 4/4 equals 7, because there are 8 eighth notes in a 4/4 bar, and 8 divided by 56 = 7.
From this number 7 you can deduce all the "odd" time signatures that are not based on divisions of the eighth note. An eighth note quintuplet (or a "1/10" bar) will equal 70 because there are 10 quintuplets in a 4/4 bar (7 x 10 = 70). To find the length of a 3/10 bar you would divide 70 by 3. If you have a 5/10 bar you would divide 70 by 5. An eighth note triplet (or a "1/12" bar) will equal 84 because there are 12 triplets in a 4/4 bar (7 x 12 = 84). To find the length of a 3/12 bar, that bar you would divide 84 by 3, and to find the length of a 5/12 bar you would divide 84 by 5.
Aside from making a click-track, here is one approach I use to practice these kinds of rhythms in sequence: memorize the speed of each bar by practicing related bars together. Keeping Superscriptio as an example, you can practice all the bars based on "1/12" while keeping the metronome at tempo 84. (Yes, you will be jumping from measure to measure, or page to page.) Then do the same for all the "1/10" bars, then "1/8" etc. You are not trying to achieve musical continuity yet, this is just an exercise to help relate all the bars with this tempo, and to keep them consistent. When you finally put the piece together, your "internal conductor" will hopefully have a kinesthetic memory of the pulse of each measure and make the tempo changes accordingly.
II.A.1.b. extreme density of notes and expressive markings
In music of extreme complexity, one is not only faced with the complexities of rhythm and tonality, but with the overall density of expressive markings, and the speed in which these gestures are to be performed. This is particularly so in the works of Ferneyhough, so will continue to use him as an example.
He and other composers of this school have created an interesting artistic situation: Each interpreter of a complex work, faced with impossibilities, will work out his/her individual solution, creating an interpretation that can only be unique. It is one way of keeping the music alive. Ferneyhough elucidates:
Therefore, in many works of extreme complexity, the tension created by the hapless performer attempting the impossible is itself an expressive element. Ferneyhough writes in the remarks to Cassandra's Dream Song:
II.A.1.c. microtonality
There are several standard ways in which microtones are used (which may be interconnected):
Once the interpretive questions have been addressed, there comes the time to actually play them. There are several fingering charts available such as Matts Möller's : http://www.sforzando.se/flutech/06.htm . They are good resources - think of them as starting points. My personal advice is to know as many fingerings as possible for a particular note. Be flexible in the choice of fingering because there are several factors to consider when making your choice:
Sometimes the solution can be simpler than you think. Turning the flute in or out to "de-tune" a note can work just as well as a really complicated fingering. For example: on a standard flute there is no stable fingering for F 3/4 sharp - if you need a loud, stable tone just play F# and lip up. If you need a quiet clear tone, finger G and lip down.
A note on different flute models: I play on a quarter-tone Kingma System (produced by Osten-Brannen) - this is a really great system, and I can recommend it for anyone who wants to play a lot of contemporary music. These flutes are also suitable for all repertoire. However - every flute has the capacity to play microtonally (as we all know - sometimes inadvertently!). Please don't be discouraged from playing the modern repertoire if you have a standard flute, even if you only have a student model with closed holes. There is still repertoire that can be played on student models such as the flute solos by Karlheinz Stockhausen. See my repertoire list for more suggestions.
II.A.1.d. the 4th octave
Practice with care, but do practice.
Some tips:
Without replicating too much of what has already been written on this subject, I will provide a list of the benefits of studying extended techniques, along with their practical applications and playing tips.
When you need to hit a stable multiphonic in an ensemble situation, it is often advisable to aim for the top note and don't let it waver, otherwise it will sound like a mistake. (For example, the multiphonics in Xenakis' Jalons.) Of course, make the sound as rich as you can by including as much of the lower tone(s) as possible.
At this point I would like to re-emphasize the focus on a musical approach to extended techniques. This helped me to make the transition from the fooling-around-in-the-practice-room stage to actually being able to perform these techniques confidently in public. A concrete musical approach is especially needed since now in some circles these effects are no longer very "special" or unusual; they can even sound cliché.
Sax player Jack Wright, who writes from the perspective of a free improviser, puts it well in an interview with John Berndt:
Often whistle tones are used to create unstable, stratospheric/atmospheric noises, or singing and playing can be used to create a distorted intensity. Salvatore Sciarrino's Opera per Flauto vols. 1 and 2 is a wonderful example of the expressive use of extraordinary sounds: each piece has its own sound world created by a palette of effects. It is also an example where the movement and interlacing of one technique with another acquires a formal significance (esp. vol. 1, no. 7 Fra i testi dedicati alle nubi).
What the composer intended is for you to find out and to apply your imagination.
If you are working on passages of extreme intensity, don't necessarily practice them intensely at first (for example, line A of Ferneyhough's Cassandra's Dream Song). Work out what is difficult in your own comfortable dynamic. You are solving problems at this point - and building the foundation of your future performances, not only the one looming ahead. Practicing always at maximum intensity will quickly fatigue you - add the intensity when you have worked out the rhythm, fingerings, articulations, etc.
Generally I find that students who are interested in tackling the repertoire of extreme complexity are highly intelligent and driven - getting them motivated is not the problem, but rather the opposite. Highly intelligent people are sometimes the least intelligent when it comes to a physical activity.
I do believe in following your dreams, and the sky is the limit - to heck with limitations. Know however that the path can be long and winding, you may not reach it today, this week or by the time of your next concert/audition. And the path can be fraught with setbacks if you are not careful about your daily existence and physical well-being. Know when to call it a day. Know to stop and take a break before you get frustrated with a certain passage. You will be able to practice/play longer than if you go to the end of your rope. And if you are getting cramped, stiff or in pain - take a minute to stretch - just one minute can sometimes make the difference between an injury that lasts years and continued healthy practice (after all, you need the those years to learn all those notes!). This is what I mean by knowing your short-term limitations.
Learn to cultivate patience. You may have worked on a passage yesterday and nailed it, only to approach it today with no success. Don't flog it. It's there and will come back. Turn your attention to another passage. Cultivating patience will in the long run help to cultivate your endurance.
Some days before I am scheduled to give a solo program I find time to play through my program (no audience allowed first time through - they will be invited for later "try-outs"). Usually at the end I am struggling like mad - unable to believe my endurance is so low. I wonder to myself "If I feel like this now in a low-stress situation, how on earth will I ever get through the concert??." Funnily enough, as often as this happens, I never actually experience these feelings during the actual performance. Perhaps it is because I have gone through the process of a run-through and know what to expect - but I truly suspect that having an audience makes all the difference. Adrenaline, positive energy, applause, that all carries you through and helps to boost your endurance. So if you can make it through your program without an audience, think how easy it will be with!
It is possible to create an interesting, stylistically diverse and original program for solo flute with music that has been composed only within the last 60 years - especially if you include works for the various flutes (piccolo, alto, or bass), chamber music, or electronics.
Few organizers are interested in programs of solo flute music as such; however, they may be interested in you and your program ideas. If you are interested in playing in a certain festival or giving a concert in a certain city, research the local composers, see if there are any of their works that spark your interest. Find out if there is a "Theme" to the festival. Find out if there is a composer-in-residence. Co-ordinate these facts with ideas from your own repertoire or research repertoire lists such as:
2. practice tips.
When working on an entire program of contemporary music I compile a list of certain difficulties that each piece presents (example: Luciano Berio Sequenza - rapid double tonguing, Franco Donatoni Midi - trills, Paulo Perezzani L'Ombra dell'Angelo - high harmonics, Brian Ferneyhough Carceri d'Invenzione - fourth octave passages). This gives me a list of problems to address each day from which to make daily exercises. This is important because when you are working on music of such intensity, it is not always possible or a good idea to play through your entire program everyday. So I would make a schedule of which pieces (usually never more than two) to study in detail each day. This way you can give your full attention to the piece(s) assigned to that day and your daily exercise list will insure that you keep up with progress in areas of difficulty found in the other works. This removed the guilt felt about spending time to do detailed work on one piece at the expense of others on a particular day.
For maximum efficiency make exercises that combine as many of the techniques as possible. Robert Dick calls this "Pyramid Practice". The idea is to work on at least two things at the same time, such as singing and playing scales; or singing while playing in the high register (good for developing pianissimo). Clever combinations help to economize your practice and warm-up time. For example I have one that combines trills, harmonics and circular breathing that I find good for general warmup: start on B-natural in the staff and trill a half-step to C. Blow up and down the harmonic series. Then trill B-flat to B-natural, again blowing up and down the harmonic series. Keep descending by half-steps using half-step trill. When I have played down to C#-D, I start again on D and ascend chromatically, but using whole-tone trills this time (still blowing up and down the harmonic series on each trill).
When learning repertoire of this extremity, I strongly recommend warming up well. This goes against some current ideas, namely that you need to have the ability to perform at the drop of a hat without any sort of ritualistic shenanigans. I've noticed that when a flutist is in good shape, he/she can usually play "cold" no problem. What I also notice in myself especially is that if I make a habit of this, within a few days I am actually in less good shape and have lost some of the finer points of playing. If you are working on pieces with passages in the fourth octave, or a piccolo piece that uses the third octave - don't be a ninny, give yourself some preparation. No athlete would attend a high jump cold without stretching, would they (I ask naively, never having done this myself)? Remember, a minute or two of preparation can help to avoid injury that may last months or years.
What one plays as a warm up is an individual choice - for me it changes according to what I am working on. At the time of this writing it includes the trill exercise mentioned above, harmonics with articulation, 4 - 6 slow scales from Taffenel-Gaubert e.j. no. 4 - with various articulations to waken my hand - tongue co-ordination (and in various polyrhythms), arpeggios, and a movement of Bach or Telemann. The habit of including these works in my daily routine came from the 10 days I worked with Aurèle Nicolet back in 1992 - at every lesson he would admonish: "You must play Baroque music every day - you must play BACH every day!" Pablo Casals had the same advice: Bach everyday to "sanctify the house". For some years I ignored this advice, but since I have been trying it out I am convinced that it does some good. (Although I make no claims about the sanctity, or even sanity of my house!)
Accept this challenge to convince the audience that what you are playing is worth listening to. If you convey to your public the discipline you have exercised, your attitude will allow them to respect you. If you face your public with courage and dignity, no matter what outlandish things you have to perform, you can only succeed. Keeping a sense of humor about yourself is another important ingredient. Have the humanity to smile not only to others as you walk on stage, but to yourself.
Fine
2From e-mail letter to the author concerning the inter pretation of Carceri d'Invenzione IIb. back
3Published by MMB Music in the USA, Just Flutes in Europe. back
It is really very difficult for me to convey the sort of nervous intensity with which I personally sense the formal expressive contradictions involved . . . There IS no 'synthesis': the extremes remain unreconciled because no single performance can meaningfully aspire to articulating them all. Hence, the piece survives to be played again...
2the audible (and visual) degree of difficulty is to be drawn as an integral structural element into the fabric of the composition itself.
(use of intervals smaller than a half-step - such as quarter tones, sixth tones, eighth tones, etc.)
Although each of these is an important consideration, it is crucial to know your end tempo and always have it in mind. I have made the mistake of carefully going through a score and writing in all the "correct" fingerings for microtones, only to have to change them later as I got the piece up to tempo. Practice the notes in tempo, if only two or three at a time to get a feel for this.
Sometimes composers are kind and allow for the natural dynamic of the fourth octave (fff). Sometimes not. This is where you can go "virtual"; that is, create the impression of a real piano even though the sound may be quite present. In some cases the struggle to play quietly is part of the composer's esthetic, or sometimes the composer just wants a diminishing of energy and will allow for a "relative" piano. Always ask if possible - don't knock yourself out trying to achieve perfection if the composer doesn't want it in the first place. If the composer really wants a true piano at that octave, do your best to keep the air up and not pinch, let go and allow a little airiness in the sound, it may still sound loud up close but it will carry less. II.A.2. Extended techniques : benefits and applications
When it comes to gaining mastery of these techniques, "The Book" -or rather Books- have already been written. Robert Dick's Tone Development through Extended Techniques, Circular Breathing for Flutists, and Flying Lessons Vols. I & II (with demo cassettes or dvd) lucidly demonstrate these techniques and are filled with practical advice.3
A special note about playing multiphonics and whistle tones in an ensemble situation: these effects are sometimes not composed carefully. In some cases it is not only impossible to hear the flutist, but it is impossible for the flutist to hear him/herself properly enough to produce the effect. Composers need to be aware of this. If you have no aural feedback, the muscles of your embouchure and jaw do not know what to do: it is like feeling your way around in the dark.Applications:
Applications:
Applications
Applications:
Applications:
In the early decades of free improv, when new techniques were the mark of a fresh approach to traditional instruments, they were often considered the new standard to be displayed. But at this point I find players using a more integrated technique, where nothing is "extended" because no technique by itself connotes a radical departure. [...] [N]ow every technique tends to be subordinate to the direction of the music, and pyrotechnics are not flashed as a distinctive badge of mastery. Of course, there are some in every audience who will be impressed by circular breathing, the kind of "look, ma, he ain't breathing!" reaction, but if we want to stay on course we know we aren't about impressing people but rather opening up our musical hearts. And for me, this opening calls for the hugest range of sound the imagination can wring out of body and instrument.
I think this is a good attitude for composed music as well.
When you are puzzling out a technique in a given piece ask yourself (or by all means the composer if possible) what role does it play? Was it written to create a specific atmosphere? Does it play a role in the form of the piece?II.A.3. problems of endurance
Building endurance while avoiding injury is one of the challenging juggling acts of our time. And I stress that endurance during practice sessions is just as if not more important than worrying whether or not you will make it through a concert. My two pieces of advice are interrelated and geared towards long-term success:
By building foundations I don't mean "go back and practice your scales", but to see every practice session and concert preparation as a furthering or rather deepening of your foundations. II.B. Creating a program of contemporary music
1. tips for choosing repertoire
You may want to consider asking a composer to write a new work for you. Take any chance you can get to collaborate on a new work - it is potentially a great learning experience. Give yourself and the composer time, however. Be sure to set clear deadlines well in advance for a new work. This avoids potentially bad professional situations. Once I set a particular deadline for a composer that was a month before a concert. Thinking to himself that his piece would not be so difficult and that I could learn it in two weeks, the composer casually presented it to me two weeks too late. On the one hand that was a bit cheeky, on the other hand I should have been clear that two weeks before the concert I would be on tour and would have no time to learn a new piece, easy or not. I cancelled the piece. II.C. Some closing remarks of encouragement:
When preparing works of contemporary music, taking the leap from the practice room to the stage is difficult. No matter who the audience is, there are always some niggling worries: "They will think this is weird"; "They will think I can't play properly"; "I don't want to make a fool out of myself"; "I know so-and-so is in the audience and s/he hates contemporary music".
Footnotes:
1What was an eye-opener for me was to hear some of Sciarrino's "straight" works where he uses absolutely no special effects and relies completely on traditional harmonies and the use of classical quotation such as his orchestral work Cadenza. I am not sure how useful this knowledge is for my own performance, but it is one case where hearing another work of a composer can cause you to throw a lot of your personal assumptions out the window. back