Helen Bledsoe

Category: piccolo

  • What is your Superpower?

    Having a kid and playing modern board games where it is teamwork against the forces of chance or evil (not everyone for him/herself like in my day), it is easy to fall into this kind of thinking.

    Because these days, everyone is special, right? No one is supposed to get left behind. Everybody has their own, special superpower. So what is my, personal, superpower? I am hoping I don’t have just one. However, for the time being, since I am spending a good amount of time each day on the piccolo, it is easy to imagine my superpower is that of playing high B’s and C’s. This is my special weapon, to produce blasts that measure over 100 decibels. Do I use it to combat evil? Well, maybe in my imagination only. But since this is not a game, it is my actual job to produce these notes, I have to deal with the situation in my own way. If I delude myself in order to produce what a composer writes, well, we all have to do whatever it takes, right?

    The thing with superpowers is that they do not happen automatically, you have to train them, refine them and learn to engage them exactly when needed. ZAAP!! Bullseye!

    In “The Dong with a Luminous Nose” by Georges Aperghis, on page 18 (of 21), after playing loads of low, airy sounds, singing and speaking, there are suddenly a few high C’s that pop up. And to boot, the piece ends on a high C. Now, high C’s are supposed to be my superpower, but they often fail me here in this context. Among the Jumbly Girls, the wail of the chimp and snipe, I forget that I have a lethal weapon in my hands. So my practice has to involve a lot of psychology. I have to remember to engage this power, to never lose sight of it. For this, microseconds help. Taking that microsecond in the leap to high C from the D below, not to say “Oh $§&”*”, but to say “Engage!” This takes practice (for me).

    So I share this so you all can think about your own superpowers, hone them, and practice engaging them. See if it works for you.

  • The Dong

    I have been meaning to keep an online account of my adventures with Georges Aperghis’ piccolo solo “The Dong with a Luminous Nose”, but it’s already three weeks before the performance and I haven’t written much. There are practical reasons for this – one is we ironed out the final version with cuts and tempo changes a few days ago. Only now do I have a sense of the piece as a whole and feel that I can do the real work.

    Since he has heard and approved my recent draft recording, only now am I confident that my strategy for playing all the quarter tones, the types of vocalizations and interpretation of timings are ok. I find it really difficult to invest in the technical details of a piece unless I know the overall musical and compositional approach, because only by knowing this, do I know how to technically approach the piece.

    Although I have heard and performed a number of Aperghis’ pieces before, the ARTE documentary from 2006 “the composer who reinvented musical theatre” gave me more insight.* Here is a quote that I like:

    “…observing a performer in their day-to-day life, during rehearsals, over coffee, in their usual behavior, one sees their inner charm and from that point on, writing for them, to my mind, means believing them to be much stronger than they are, musically, I mean. So often, when the score arrives, they are happy yet anxious due to its difficulty. Because I feel they are capable of it, that’s the fault of love. I feel they can do anything, and they can, because they do, but at a price. “

    Aperghis and I got to know each other personally while he was preparing to compose Intermezzi for Ensemble Musikfabrik. In our conversations, I mentioned that I enjoyed the nonsense texts of Edward Lear. “The Dong” is a text by Lear (his choice), and to my knowledge, this is the only work of Aperghis that really has a narrative. His other works seem much more abstract and cathartic.

    I have also been thinking about music and text. A lot of text that goes into music these days is political or makes some kind of statement. Although I support this wave of awareness and wokeness, I still think there is a place for words in music as phonetic material with artistic, or dare I say it, entertainment value. If the text of this piece included the words “damn the patriarchy” or “Frauenpower forever” it would perhaps make me feel better about myself, giving me that warm, fuzzy feeling you get with acts of solidarity and “doing one’s bit”. But in the end, what bit is that? My performance would change no one’s social perspective. (And in Darmstadt, where the premiere is to be held, I would be preaching to the choir.) My bit would be better played out by volunteering in a homeless or refugee shelter, or helping people safely vote. This is not to say I don’t believe that certain forms of art are capable of promoting and instigating social change.

    So I will perform and narrate Edward Lear’s text, with all its humor, overtly phallic symbolism** and allusions to interracial love. Why not? I might even perform it from the perspective of a Jumbly Girl.

    Illustration by Edward Gorey

    *I would share the link, but my automatic embedder is giving me grief.

    **Ok maybe my mind is in the gutter.

  • In the Middle

    Thoughts provoked by working on the middle section of a large piece. Today I focused on pages 14 – 16 (of 21) of Aperghis’ the Dong. What goes on in a composer’s mind at this point? Was it a middle point when it was conceived? How will I survive to the end? How do I keep the audience interested in listening to the piccolo for another 4 or 5 minutes? If I don’t keep their interest, perhaps they will kill me as Scheherazade was doomed, yet she survived. Should I sex it up? If so, whose sex? What would you do?

  • Using Harmonics: Making Difficult Intervals Even Harder! Why?

    If you have a difficult interval in any kind of musical passage, playing the second note as a harmonic makes it even more difficult. You have to put more effort into directing the air and controlling the air speed. Once you have done that though, going back to the original passage without the harmonic seems pretty easy! I see this as good training, the way a weight lifter will shift from heavy weights to light weights (not that my lazy self would really know about this, lol.) This week, working on student compositions, this kind of practice has saved me. However, this time I am applying it to piccolo, and it really works.

    The passage in question is as follows:

    The last four 32nd notes were troublesome. So I took the E – F# interval and repeated several times slowly, using the F# fingering an octave below (you could also use B natural):

    And the A – G interval like this, again repeating several times slowly and with an altered (but still overblown) fingering:

    It doesn’t sound pretty! (At least when I play it.) But it does make you work, so when you go back to the original passage, it is much easier!

    Any other thoughts? Other applications of this technique?

  • Tongue Trippin’ in Munich 3 – a Quetzalcoatlus Dances

    Rehearsal photo of Zungenspitzentanz from Luzifers Tanz. Photo A. Ackermann

    When you perform a theatrical piece like Stockhausen’s Zungenspitzentanz for the first time, you may have that need of, just, please, one more rehearsal, one more run-through, just so I don’t mess this up!  Immediately after that first performance you may still want to ask: Could I just try that again? Now?

    At least that was how it was with me. I have performed this piece before, but this was the first time with orchestra and conductor – an entirely different animal, I can assure you. The afternoon before the first performance I lay in my hotel room in complete disbelief and denial that tonight was the night. Perhaps because it took so much force to pull myself together, I managed to keep myself together.

    I want to mention a few things that helped me to manage and keep my nerve during this project.

    One was filming myself daily. This may sound strange, but watching myself helped me get used to the idea that this is what people see when they look at me. It doesn’t mean that I liked what I saw, I am super critical when it comes to myself. However, watching seemed to de-mystify things. I know my brow-ridge looks too harsh and Neanderthal-like from a certain angle, I know that this move shows the tendons in my neck like a turkey, and so on. For me it was less about accepting and loving yourself, as the self-help books say, and more about getting used to yourself and getting over yourself. I seem to remember a Zen saying that goes something like: “To know yourself is to forget yourself”.

    Something else that helped was balance exercises. Several years ago I discovered this while taking a yoga class. If I can do balance poses, in a class or at home, and really focus on them, I find I am less distracted by nerves. Good balance gives you physical confidence. There is probably some scientific literature out there on the subject, someday I will research it. This leads me to my next item:

    The Quetzalcoatlus effect. My musical preparations have been accompanied by intensive research into Mesozoic reptiles and dinosaurs. My son demands a story about them daily, and the more he learns, the more he wants to hear about them. So after watching this 10 minute video about Pterosaurs and their incredible brains wired for flight, quick maneuvering and, again, balance, I faced my relatively meager human abilities. But we have better instincts that we realize, if we can get out of their way. When I started to feel uptight during this project, I would think of the Quetzalcoatlus, ungainly on the ground, huge as a giraffe, weighing hundreds of pounds. Yet that sucker could fly!

    With flutist Natalie Schwaabe after the concert.

    So to recap the two performances in Munich: During the first one, it took me about three minutes to settle in, but I think considering my mental state it went very well. For the second one, I was much more relaxed and focused, but the conductor went much faster! Nontuplets at a quarter-note = 80 are challenging enough, but it felt like he was approaching 90 that evening, so there was less accuracy to be sure.  The Bavarian Radio Symphony Orchestra was great! To top that off, they were all so nice! Nor was I the only soloist that evening: Michael Leibundgut sang Luzifer and Marco Blaauw rocked on the trumpet. Both were an inspiration and a pleasure to hear.

  • Tongue Trippen’ in Munich 2

    If I were to write my memoirs,  I would refer to this summer as the Siberian Summer. It is astonishingly cold here in Munich; however, our tiny hotel room accommodates us well, and we keep each other warm. On stage, with the Bavarian Radio Symphony Orchestra,  the spotlights blaze and the astonishing playing,  especially from the brass section, generates its own heat.

    My first rehearsal was a sectional with groups 9 and 10 from Stockhausen’s Luzifers Tanz – piccolo, euphoniums, tubas, synthesizer and percussion. I had expected it to be a disaster as far as playing together goes, and so it was. We had no staging rehearsals, nor purely musical ones, so everything had to be put together on the spot. How was I to turn around in circles and stay with the conductor, especially in the sections with ritardandi and fermati? Monitors were also not realistic. I made some comprimises by not going full circle for at least one of the sections. We also spent a bit of time puzzling over a tempo discrepency in bar 933 between the full score and the solo and chamber music versions. Along with Kathinka, we decided that the solo version of the tempo was correct.

    The next rehearsal was with full brass and percussion. When I say full, I do mean full! I never thought I would need amplification while playing piccolo,  but I am now very grateful.

    The first tutti rehearsal went better than I expected.  I have come to terms with the fact that we will not achieve 100 % ensemble togetherness (that would require an additional rehearsal phase), so I focus on sounding as good as possible and making the movements as well as possible.

    Will write more,  probably when I have my laptop again.  This thumb typing drives me nuts!

    Brass and percussion for Zungenzpspitzentanz

  • Piccolo Pickles

    Here’s a comparison photo of three piccolos: (left) a Pearl Grenadite, (center) a Philipp Hammig with an August Richard Hammig headjoint, and (right) an Anton Braun.

    The photo is pretty bad and overexposed, but you can see the difference in length and taper. Notice that although each piccolo was built to A= 442 specs, that the Braun is shorter and much more tapered at the end. Does anyone have an explanation for that?

    I spent years trying to decide whether to spend over 5,000 Euros for a Braun piccolo. The Hammig hybrid I had been playing on is a very good instrument, but I often play in situations where I needed to play louder. People roll their eyes when I tell them that, but the piccolo is not always a deafening beast. In the low and middle registers, especially articulated passages, I was often struggling to project. It doesn’t help that those registers are used often with E-flat clarinet, trumpet or percussion with hard mallets. Some composers seem to think that the piccolo will always dominate. However, it’s only the third octave that really penetrates. (Then you get the composers who think you can match a pianissimo third octave note with a violin playing the same dynamic. NOT.)

    I spoke about my dynamic and articulation problems in the middle and low register with Patricia Morris. She asked me what kind of piccolo I had. When I said Hammig, she said that’s likely the problem. Then she allowed me to try her Braun piccolos and I could feel the difference. I could certainly have continued with my Hammig, but we now have a concert series in which our performances are recorded live for CD, warts and all. So I decided to take the plunge.

    When my piccolo came from Herr Braun (photo left, with daughter Antonia), I asked him for some guidelines to break in, or rather play in the instrument. Everyone has their theory about new wooden instruments. He gives his general guidelines here but added the following information by telephone. He told me to give it a good 4 to 6 weeks to play in. I was bummed about that as I had a Xenakis program with Thallein and Jalons in 2 weeks, but I took his advice to heart. He said to start with the low register for the first week or so, then move to the middle and only then up to the high register. He said to not let anyone else play it (of course someone trying the piccolo for a few minutes is ok), that the instrument needed to get used to the way I blow on it. And most importantly he said, that I should try to blow more like on the flute than a typical piccolo, that he had made his instruments expressly so, that they could be played more flute-like. It should be a quite relaxed approach. By the way, if you can read German, here is his story, it is amazing!

    Herr Braun’s advice turns out to be crucial because the instrument can easily go sharp. I expected trouble as I played on my own with a tuner, but when I got with the ensemble, I was so happy that I could just blow and relax, and not have to reach up for any of the notes. I play pulled out a few millimeters. In short, this is a completely different animal from the Hammig! I am liking it very much, though.

    I’ll put in a good word also for the Hammig and the Pearl. For about 9 years I played on the Hammig with a Werner Fischer head. These are very colorful, flexible and light head joints. Easy to play and very dolce. They are good for non picc specialists or specialists for whom projection is not an issue. I then heard the A. R. Hammig was making very good heads, and ordered a grenadilla one. It gave me an improvement in depth for the middle and low register, and I really liked the overall sound. The Pearl grenadite is the best cheap piccolo on the market, in my opinion. I couldn’t believe how well it played compared to Yamaha and the others. For me, anyway.

  • Tips for Complex Rhythms à la Ferneyhough’s Superscriptio

    Below is some advice for works by composers (such as Brian Ferneyhough) who use complex rhythms not based on pulse-centered activity. I spoke with Mr. Ferneyhough about this subject and he was very clear that in his music, the measure is a “domain of a certain energy quotient” not related to a pulse.

    In other words, a measure can be interpreted as an “area of activity”. The level of activity can easily be reckoned using the starting tempo. From there we can calculate the length of any measure or individual note through simple mathematics.

    So 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 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 you would divide 84 by 3, and to find the length of a 5/12 bar you would divide 84 by 5.

    What if the compound rhythms are stacked on top of each other, as in Ferneyhough’s other works? This is an imaginary example:
    Let’s imagine as in Superscriptio the starting tempo is an eighth-note at 56. The last six 16ths (at the end of the bar) roughly equal two 16th-note triplets at 64. The nine 32nds under the 9:5 are roughly equal to three sets of 32nd triplets going at 116.

    It could have been notated thus (among other possibilities):

    Here’s the math:
    From above we know that a 1/10 bar equals 70.
    A 4/10 bar will equal 17.5 (70 divided by 4 = 17.5).
    Each 11-tuplet will be 192.5 (17.5 x 11 = 192.5).
    There are 6 of these 11-tuplets at the end. If we think of them as two 16th-note triplets, divide 192.5 by 3 = ca. 64

    5 of those 11-tuplets equals 38.5 (192.5 divided by 5 = 38.5).
    In the 9:5, if you think of the 9-tuplets as 3 sets of 32nd triplets, those triplets go at ca. 116 (38.5 x 3 = 115.5)

    A click track will ensure accuracy without a doubt. However, if you opt for another approach, try the following: 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.

    Also see my post Seminar with Brian Ferneyhough.
    Other thoughts?