Helen Bledsoe

Blog

  • Intonation IV: Our Partner in Crime

    By Partner in Crime I mean our most common collaborator in the traditional repertoire: the piano (or harpsichord). Here is some information I’ve gleaned from reading Fundamentals of Musical Acoustics by Arthur H. Benade (standing left in photo, playing homemade flute). To know the acoustical properties of the piano is to be able to deal with its intonational quirks. The burden of this lies with us, the flutists. The piano is not able to adjust to our intonational quirks.

    Pianos and harpsichords have what are called inharmonic partials as opposed to a flute’s regular harmonic partials.

    A flute sound will be comprised of its fundamental and its more weakly-heard upper partials: an octave (2 x the frequency of the fundamental), 12th (3 x the frequency of the fundamental), octave again (4 x the frequency), and so on. Everything is all laid out and predictable. What an orderly instrument!

    Pianos and harpsichords have inharmonic partials due to string stiffness and effects of the sound board. Their partials are spread, that is, the first partial will be slightly more than 2 x the fundamental. This is important for us to know: given the same note, the upper partials of a piano have a higher frequency (are sharper) than the flute’s. Just how sharp these partials are will depend on the quality of piano: an expensive concert grand will have less deviation – an upright with a too-short sound board will have more deviation.

    Here is an example of a typical deviation for a decent instrument, based on the frequency of C4=261.63hz
    Fundamental Flute:261.63 Piano:261.63
    2nd partial Flute: 523.26 Piano:523.51
    3rd partial Flute:784.89 Piano:785.91
    etc. You can see that the higher you go, the farther apart the frequencies will be between the two instruments.

    The piano’s “spread” inharmonic spectrum explains why its attack sounds sharper (higher in pitch) than its immediate decay. Initially a great number of partials are excited, including the higher ones that display spread inharmonicity. As the sound dies away, we are left with the lower few partials, which are more or less “normal”, that is, less inharmonic.

    What else does this inharmonicity mean for us flutists?

    I need to back up and explain another acoustical lesson from Benade. Sometimes, there is a difference between matching a pitch between alternately presented sounds and simultaneous sounds (p. 268). Why? Because sometimes the ear is matching overall pitch rather than frequency. What?

    Overall pitch is what the ears interpret, given any sound with a harmonic spectrum. We infer the fundamental from that sound. That fundamental, which we infer from its upper partials, may not actually match the frequency of the fundamental. (Really! It’s a case of the mind inferring its own reality. Maybe like an optical illusion?)

    How does that affect a flutist who plays the same note in alteration with a piano? Given the example above for C=261.63 hz, and “assuming the first six partials [only the first 3 listed here] to be equally important in determining the pitch, one finds that the normal [flute] tone must have its pitch raised about 4 cents…if the two are to agree when presented alternately.” (p. 318)

    He gives a further example on page 323:

    “Suppose for example that a flutist plays a mezzo-forte G4, maintaining it accurately in tune with the G4 produced by a single harpsichord string (whose inharmonicity is very similar to that of the strings we have been discussing all along). The flute is sounded steadily, and the corresponding harpsichord key is struck repetitively at the rate of about 2 per second, so that the tone is restored quickly after each dying away. (…)If, however, the harpsichordist sounds one more note after the flutist has shut off his well-tuned tone, this last note sounds a trifle sharp to our ears…”

    Well, I beg to differ… the harpsichordist will not sound sharp: the flutist will sound flat!

    There are a couple of other things that are interesting to know about the piano.
    On page 319 Benade describes what he calls “the piano tuner’s octave”. Octaves on the piano are not completely pure, it seems. They are also tuned a few cents too wide. Funny, I would have thought that would be the one interval that could have a 2/1 ratio (the upper note having exactly 2 x the frequency of the lower). But, if you think about that spread inharmonicity, it does make sense.

    Furthermore, not even unisons are pure on pianos! (p. 334) This is what blew me away. Most piano notes are produced by multiple strings, which may have as many as 1 – 8 cents difference between them. This is deliberately done to enhance the decay time.

    Given the shimmering effect of de-tuned unisons, together with the spread inharmonicity of each individual string, the piano creates a vibrant, pulsing sound. This is one reason I think it doesn’t make sense to play non-vibrato with piano. Of course, there are musical contexts where non-vibrato is appropriate. However, as a general rule, I think the flute should go with the piano’s flow of vibrations!

    Photo credit: AIP Emilio Segre Visual Archives

  • Practice Motto: Amongst Our Weaponry Are….

    Surprise, fear, ruthless efficiency and a fanatical devotion to the— wait a minute —– that’s not my practice motto, that’s The Spanish Inquisition skit from Monty Python!

    Hmm, well, surprise and fear do come into play now and then. It’s the term ruthless efficiency that’s been running through my head recently. Ruthlessness seems to be the rule, given minimal practice time these days in which to prepare for May’s difficult ensemble concert and July’s solo concert. It’s a tough juggle, my husband is working almost round-the-clock to make a deadline, and my 7-month-old son could care less about my piddling artistic/flutey problems. So practice moments need to be cunningly snatched. Linked with my policy of brutal honesty, which involves keeping the tuner by my side, I seem to have a very pugnacious attitude in the practice room these days. It’s a place where “no one expects the Spanish Inquisition!” But guess what? It’s paying off!

    I will share some of my weaponry that inflicts ruthless efficiency:

    • a daily task list and
    • a projected schedule of when I will practice each piece

    Since it is impossible to practice every piece every day, I take what is difficult from each piece and work it into my daily practice. Some things on my list now are: the multiphonics found in Berio Sequenza and Takemitsu Voice, double tonguing as fast as possible….

    The projected schedule is something I make when it seems there are too many pieces and too little time. I start from the first day and project up to the concert day(s). I figure out how much practice each piece will need, and assign one or more pieces to practice in detail each day. That way, I don’t have to worry about practicing each piece every day. It keeps me from panicking, and importantly, from procrastinating. If it’s my day to practice that difficult trio I was dreading, just do it. Put the other pieces aside – the items on the daily task list will keep me up-to-date, in shape and on top of them.

    I do seem to be making headway, and watching Monty Python for a laugh now and then does help!

  • Intonation I : Flutonation

    Practicing intonation, I’ve noticed a few funny quirks of mine which I know are shared by many other flutists, so I think it is worthwhile confessing and hanging them out to dry.
    (By the way, barring any live musicians I can scare up to do my nerdy exercises, my partner in intonation practice is my Korg OT-12. It’s a bit chunky and pricey, but it offers decent range of sound output. It is also recommended by orchestral piccoloists for its good registration of high pitches.)

    But first I need to get another pet peeve off my chest: flutonation. It’s the natural intonation of the flute. I often hear it when a flutist is playing a solo piece without accompaniment, esp. a contemporary (atonal) piece that they think doesn’t need to be in tune. Oh boy….eyes rolling…..
    I admit that I have flutonation in spades: C# too sharp, low and mid Eb too flat, but the high Eb too sharp. This is why I hate hearing it in other players 🙂

    Now for those other quirks:
    When tuning unisons, I notice I tend to tune just a few cents sharp. I realized why after awhile: when perfectly in tune with my OT-12, the sound of the OT-12 disappears completely! The harmonic structures are so interlocked that they are indistinguishable. If I’m a little sharp though, I can still hear the tuner. And in my quest to always listen, to play so I can hear my partner (even if mechanical), I play so that both can be heard. Funny, huh? A case where overdoing one aspect can mess you up in another area. Sort of opposite the way pitch rises in orchestra – where you play sharp so you can hear yourself.

    Another thing is octaves. I can tune vertical octaves without any silliness, but melodic (horizontal) octaves are another story. They are almost always too wide. I don’t know why, maybe I have played the flute too long and have a severe case of octave flutonation. Then there is picctonation. I hear octaves on the piccolo too narrow. That’s probably because I like to play with the cork rather close to the embouchure hole – but still, I should know better. I really have to re-train my ears with a fixed pitch instrument or my korg. I’ve developed some exercises for octaves with my korg that involve listening, not looking at the blinking lights.

    In general, I’ve got several exercises for tuning with a tuner that involve listening to combination tones, complete with explanations. They are no longer publicly on my site because I am considering publication, but- if someone is really interested I can send them pdf.

  • Intonation II: “Gimme That Ol’ Time Religion”


    Here’s a still from the TV broadcast of us playing Henze’s Requiem
    in the Cathedral of Cologne, April 2009

    Our latest concert presented quite a challenge! The Cathedral of Cologne has an evening temperature (this time of year) of 15.3˚ C (59.4˚ F). That was with spotlights and extra spots from the television crew.

    As we bundled up to play Hans Werner Henze’s Requiem, we took great care in tuning. Actually, it wasn’t too bad, all things considered.

    Here’s what we had to consider:

    From one equal-tempered semitone to the next there is a 6% increase in frequency.

    A 10˚C change in temperature is equal to a 2% change in pitch frequency. That’s a whole third of a semitone!
    [From “The Musician’s Guide to Acoustics” by Murray Campbell, p. 201]

    The Cathedral air was not a whole 10 degrees below room temperature (22˚C) but it was enough to make things really tricky.

    So what was it like playing in one of the world’s tallest cathedrals? The acoustics of the choir area (on the east end, behind the altar) are not bad. The choir of Cologne Cathedral, measured between the piers, holds the distinction of having the largest height to width ratio of any Medieval church, 3.6:1. [info from Wiki] The whole cathedral is so large and so high that it is almost like playing outdoors, you don’t get that “churchy” acoustic. The nave is 43.35 meters high (144.22 feet) – the 4th highest in the world. Only when you stop playing, do you hear a long, long, decay of the sound.

    When I stepped into the interior of the Cathedral for the first time in the summer of 1995 I almost cried, it was that moving and impressive. I am used to tall buildings, I’ve even been up the Sears tower in Chicago, but being inside such a vast structure is awe-inspiring. Imagine the impression it made on the pre-modern psyche!

    Back to our intonation question:
    How to stay on top of these extreme situations, hot or cold?
    *keep flexible by practicing note bends – both ways. I find this absolutely crucial in piccolo playing.
    *know alternate fingerings
    *know the tendencies of other instruments under these extremes (strings go sharp in the cold, not like us!)

  • Intonation III : the Spectre of Spectralism

    Some days ago I got the score for G. F. Haas’ new work „ … wie Stille brannte das Licht“. (What is it with German-speaking composers and their titles with elipses?). It got me thinking about how different composers notate microtonality. I like what Haas has done, it is explicit in placing the note within a frame of reference.

    The notated C quarter-sharp in bar 241 is the 11th partial of G, and the A-flat in bar 245 is the 21st partial of E-flat (along with the indication that you are in a perfect fifth with the clarinet). I like having this kind of information in the score, but if he had notated the exact deviation in cents, that would have been even more helpful. This is easy enough to find out in Wiki

    That 11th partial should a C# 49 cents flat, and the 21st partial should be an A-flat 29 cents flat. Like I said, easy enough for find out, but it would have been nice if the composer had provided this information.

    We haven’t had rehearsal yet, so I can’t say how this will sound or how easy this will be to hear. [ed. read my follow up at the bottom of this post]
    So now the question arises: How does one practice this stuff?

    First of all, I get my tuner. Trying the A-flat first, I make sure that our Eb’s are in tune. Then I play an A-flat ca. 29 cents flat. Then I keep that tone while putting the sound on to Eb and I hear a Bb combination tone. This is a clue that I am on the right track, or within the correct overtone spectrum. Your combination tone (it may be a true difference tone or not, depending on the timbre and register of instrument) should lie in close relationship to the fundamental – say an octave, fifth or major third (which is the 5th partial, you don’t want to go much farther than that). Put in simpler terms, it should be part of the major triad formed by the fundamental.

    Now to try the C# against the G. Again I tune the G’s, then test my C3 so the needle goes about 49 cents flat, then put the sound on G. My difference tone is B natural this time, still close enough (a major third – the 5th partial) in relation to G to be correct.

    Again, I have no idea how this will work in the context of the piece, or if it will be heard. But now I know, theoretically, how much adjustment is “correct”.

    Whether this works in context or not, I love working with combination tones. Scientists are still not in agreement as to what they are – but it is a wonderful example of how our brains work – how they “fill in the blanks” of the overtone spectrum. I wonder if this is the same phenomenon that allows transistor radios to work? Only the upper partials are projected, the brain fills in the rest.

    Also, I’ve noticed that I’m one of those people who can read things like this, hence my spelling problems, most likely. (Thanks to my like-minded Uncle T for this text):

    fi yuo cna raed tihs, yuo hvae a sgtrane mnid too. Cna yuo raed tihs? Olny 55 plepoe out of 100 can.

    [Follow-up added May 5, 2009]
    The passage in question was actually not so difficult to hear! You are a part of this “lump” of sounds that are related to the fundamental. It is tricky that he has two harmonic spectrums going at once: those of G and E-flat.

    When considering dynamics in this piece we realized that there was a lot more going on than just playing loudly or softly. It helped to think of crescendo/decrescendo passages as adding/subtracting harmonics to your individual sound rather than just making the sound louder or softer. This made for a much more interesting color. Also, the very quiet passages must be played with focus and good attack. Even the quietest notes need some harmonics in the sound, none of this fluffy airy stuff! It just didn’t match the color system.

    I do admit the 11th partial gave me the most trouble in this piece. Tricky to hear! It must be 49 cents flat. I must make some exercises.

    Speaking of which, I asked the composer and my colleagues how one can study and practice this music. The answer is always the same, learn the overtone series, horizontally, note by note, by ear. How can one do this? Programming a synthesizer seems to be the most popular idea. However you do it, once the sounds are in your head, you have to find a way to play them (of course, in a comfortable range of your instrument. I’m thinking middle octave) by using a combination of alternate fingerings and lip bending. Another project for me!

  • Seminar with Brian Ferneyhough 25 March, 2009

    Almost didn’t get out of bed that day. I was under the weather, and a warm blanket, but I managed to hop on the train to Amsterdam in time for Ferneyhough’s seminar on his flute pieces, which was organized by Joel Bons (artistic director of the Nieuw Ensemble) and Harrie Starreveld.

    Harrie kicked off by playing a bit of Mnemosyne for bass flute and tape (or- and this I’d forgotten – 9 live players. I’d just love to be part of that someday!). He discussed how he learned and practiced the piece. Nowadays, you can put the notes into the computer and play them back, at all speeds. This would function as a kind of mnemonic learning device for the rhythm, but only an additional device, you would still need a click track to stay together with the tape. Ferneyhough highly recommends using a click track. Some players have tried without and not succeeded. The problem with getting out of sync with the tape is that the harmonies, which play a crucial role, will be all wrong.

    Harrie played a recording of a computer realization of one bar to show how one could slow it down to learn the rhythms mnemonically

    BUT…

    ….a computer-like rendering with literal-minded exactitude is not the point of this piece (or any of Ferneyhough’s music). Each of the three lines of the solo part has its own character. Indeed, that is one reason they are notated on separate staves. There is a play of interruptive polyphony between them. He also went on to say that his music is consideredcomplex because conservatory training in rhythm is only basic. The focus in ear training is on interval recognition, rather than rhythmic recognition.How does the human element come into play in this piece? One way: the performer is observing him/herself learn. There are the 3 textures/voices, the performer has to choose which one is primary at a given time. However, he cautioned against mere approximation: approximation is the negative side of interpretation.Harrie remarked that the end result sounds very flexible. This led Ferneyhough to remark that when you hear a performance of Beethoven, you don’t hear a reading of the score: you hear a translation of tradition. The vernacular of music is evident in Beethoven, it is not in contemporary music.

    To me, personally, this is an added human element to a performance of his music. This contemporary vernacular is yet-to-be defined, and seeking it is part of the creative process. Maybe this is also what he means by the performer observing his/herself learn?

    Next our student Daisuke played Cassandra’s Dream Song. One part of the opening passage was the best Ferneyhough had heard it to date. Way to go Daisuke! The opening strophe Ferneyhough described thus: the first half is “effort rhythm” then “precise rhythm”. It is a building up of energies, a somatic crescendo, then releasing. This is to engage the body from the very first moment of the piece. The flute as an extension of the body is how he thinks of this piece.

    I didn’t know that the original idea was to improvise the order of the strophes during performance. However, Ferneyhough has gotten away from this idea. One has to find a way to intersect the two pages and create chains of continuity.

    He touched on several of the techniques, the different vibrati/smorzato, and the section with voice. A male flutist should, ideally, sing falsetto. If not possible, you need to add the beating effect, as this passage should sound like two weaving sine waves. He is not sure if the fingering of the multiphonic with the high F# is a good one. He didn’t have an open-holed flute to work with, so was wondering if someone would come up with a better fingering.
    While discussing notation at one point he said: you don’t choose notation, it chooses you.

    Then a brave lady [must find out name, anyone?] played Superscriptio. This turns out to be not the first piece with irrational meters (1/10, 3/12). It was first done by Henry Cowell, then by Dieter Schnebel in the 1950’s. (See also my post on irrational meters.)

    He admits that the opening page and a half is cruel. However, that is not the intention. This piece opens his entire Carceri cycle: a single instrument – high and very light. The opening section is not meant to be “musical” – rather, it is coming to terms with ways of contrapuntal thinking. Later on, the material becomes “musical”. Harrie commented that the opening is however quite melodic, like a children’s ditty. He even performed it as such for a radio broadcast.

    The next section needs attention to the speed of articulated passages. They are at uncomfortable speeds, sometimes slower than expected. This is important, otherwise one can get carried away and go with the vertige, but then it ends up sounding like any other contemporary piccolo piece.

    There is a famous passage in this piece with repeated C’s that are notated differently, but performed at the same speed. This is because he has several systems running simultaneously. When things like this happen, OK. Even if his system comes up with something tonal like a reference to a major triad: so be it. The performer needs to be aware when this happening, but doesn’t need to show it to the audience.

    Further, he explained the meaning of the title “Superscriptio”. It’s part of an emblem (usually found in collections called emblem books). This was a 16th century form of learned entertainment – a combination of texts and images . Above the image a short motto (lemma, inscriptio [superscriptio – because it is above] ) is scratched or handwritten introducing the theme or subject, which is symbolically bodied in the picture itself (icon, pictura); the picture is then described and elucidated by an epigram ( subscriptio ) or short prose text.


    Here is an example of two French emblems


    This is not a complete reporting of my notes from the seminar, only some of the things I was able to jot down while also taking photos!

  • Robert Dick, 22 March 2009


    Left to right: Charlotte, Johanna, Nozomi, Robert, Wan, Kanae

    Last weekend I had the pleasure of attending, albeit briefly, Robert’s masterclass in Wuppertal, Germany. It was great to see him! The last time I saw him, he was walking out on a concert I gave at the BAM in New York! Not because of me though. Our group was playing very loud minimalistic music, not his (or my) cup of tea. At least I got to wear earplugs. Since then, we’ve both become parents, so we had a good exchange on the joys and difficulties of juggling children and career. We’re both “older” parents, and are on our own as far as having no near relatives or live-in help to give us a hand.

    Be that as it may, I got a good dose of inspiration. He began Sunday morning chatting about singing and playing, and the importance of singing in general. There’s nothing like it to get you listening. He said that if he were to teach a beginner, he would start with singing. This resonates with what I have been thinking these years, esp. after having studied in India. There, one learns to sing or use the voice first, even in training to be a percussionist! I think we are a strange musical culture, that puts some object into a kid’s hand and says, now make music out of it! Someday, I must put my India notes on blog.
    Anyhow, back to Robert.

    5 of our (Harrie Starreveld’s and my) students, past and present, took part. I was very impressed with what Robert had to say about Mozart and Kuhlau. This was the first time I had heard him coach the classical and romantic repertoire; his keen musicality and vivid imagination made for very good lessons.

    We did touch on learning harmonic multiphonics, in the context of Fukushima’s Mei. This applies to Berio Sequenza as well. [The 1st days of the masterclass went into extended techniques in detail – I unfortunately missed them.] When it comes to the harmonic multiphonics that are found in these two pieces, it pays to put in some serious time in studying them before learning the piece. You don’t learn the sonority in the piece, just like you don’t learn the D major scale by playing Mozart!

    He described it thus: by not practicing the sonorities first and just hoping they come in the concert – it is as if you walk down to the sea and just happen to reach in the water and pick out the exact fish you wanted!

    How to go about preparing harmonic multiphonics:
    Practice octaves, fifths, and fourths – in that order.
    With octaves, it is easiest to begin where the flute has a short tube: C2 – C3. then work your way down.
    With fifths and fourths, begin where the flute is longest, low C or B and work your way up.
    Suggested practice time devoted to this: 15 min each day.

    The benefit of this is not only to learn these sonorities, but to make the lips fit. If it’s worth doing, it’s worth doing well. This is the practice pathway up the mountain!

  • How To Get Pregnant – Even If….

    Even if you are a man! There’s a man behind this idea – sax player Ned Rothenberg, to be exact. He described his practicing as “getting pregnant” creatively. Here is the article where he mentions it.

    I really admire his improvisations. He must spend a lot of the time pregnant! His CD “Amulet” with Tuvan singer Sainkho Namchulak is something else.

    I drew great inspiration from it when preparing for my trip to Tuva in 2004. It was my first solo appearance only improvising, and I was happy that it was in a far and distant land. Although I don’t think the concert went well, it was a very fruitful time for me – I really practiced a lot to prepare for it and took some practice notes which I use to this day. Someday I’ll post about my adventures in Tuva!

    Although from time to time it is part of my job, I just hate being an assembly – line flutist. Piece gets on the stand, practiced, performed, basta. Next. And so on. Although I learn pieces fairly quickly, I really don’t like to. It’s one thing I really can’t stand about the contemporary music business. I’m also at a point in my life where I really enjoy contemplation, it would be great to spend time on my instrument pondering different interpretations of Bach, or any great composer for that matter. Or deepening my understanding of tone production and discovering new sounds. But often it’s monkey-work. By that, I mean spending time churning through pages littered with excessive black dots, my trusty metronome by my side, starting half-speed and inching ever upwards.

    My ideal is that I have enough time to live with a piece of music, or for it to become a part of me. This is also why I like practicing. I remember my school days in Amsterdam, practicing in my then-boyfriend’s attic. He would tell me: why do you practice so much? you don’t really need to! Well, I was getting pregnant. I get full of the music and then and only then am I ready to fling it out.

    Lucky for us (flutists)! We now have modern “classics”. I have lived with the Berio Sequenza ca. 15 years, Ferneyhough’s Carceri for 12 years, Varese Density 21.5 for 10 (learned that one late!). My next solo concert (5 July) I hope to make a mostly “classical” one, along with two new pieces by younger composers. What luxury! Now to juggle time for practice, rehearsals, teaching, cuddling (baby and husband), household stuff and blogging. Dang it, I wish I had a maid, now that would really be luxury….