Monthly Archive for January, 2006

Pitch

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Have you ever known someone who is never quite happy, no matter what you do to please them? And even when you think you’ve done everything the way they want, they change the parameters and you’re back to square one?

Well, that’s what pitch is all about. It’s like balancing on the top of a ball. You’re never able to relax and just be. You have to adjust constantly.

But there’s often no time to adjust, especially in a moving line. In a chorale, where each note is held a bit, the chords carry the line. But a melody is mostly passing tones of some sort, so one has to act on the fly. You have to just feel how to fit in with those around you. And pray, and sweat, and pray some more, and bite and honk. If you’re lucky, you’ll get a bit more than half the notes in tune. That’s why I feel like slapping people when they say “Oh, it must be such a JOY to play music!!!”.

In an orchestra, the oboe sets the pitch. Uppity oboe! “My way or the highway.” No really, oboe is limited in pitch variation, so that’s why they tune us. Oboists are fine as people, but nicer when drunk. These days all oboists use electronic tuners to be sure they are right on. Most orchestras tune to 440, which is the number of vibrations per second in the note “A”. But some orchestra’s, like Saint Louis and Boston, tune to 442. It’s only a hair higher, but it makes a world of difference. If I played in either of those orchestras, I’d have to adjust all my equipment to be comfortable at that pitch level.

OK. So I’ve spent hours at home with a tuner checking each note on my instrument, learning which notes are a little or a lot sharp or flat, and finding ways to adjust those accordingly. Now remember, tuners are giving you a “tempered” reading, based on the “equal temperament scale“. That means each pitch is equidistant from the next. But if a singer sings a major scale starting on “A”, for example, the third note in the scale, C#, would probably be sung a bit low to a tuner. That’s because in any particular “key” the third is usually “felt” low.

There’s a good reason for this. It’s called “just intonation“, meaning each pitch is tuned to “blend” best in it’s function in that particular key. Are you still with me? So the singer sings the C# quite low because it is more mellow in that key. If someone sings or plays an A and another plays a C#, those notes will clash until the C# is lowered, 26 cents low to be exact. A cent is 1/100th of a half tone.

That’s just one example of “just intonation”. Each note of the scale is slightly different in its needs in order to sound “right” in that scale. Now throw in different keys, especially minor keys, and things get really complicated.

Once in awhile I’ll hear someone joke about how their instrument came “tuned at the factory”. In the case of wind instruments, it’s true. A well made instrument will have a fairly even “tempered” scale, so each note is fairly well pitched and can be adjusted by the player’s embouchure to meet the needs of the music. But even the best clarinets have tuning flaws. For example, when I try a new instrument, I check for skewed 12ths, the interval the clarinet jumps in the second octave. The upper 12th is usually high.

So, back to tuning in real life. I’ve prepared my piece at home, and tuned my instrument and prepared fingerings to adjust for problems. I get to rehearsal and start playing, and I’m out of tune. Why? Many reasons. My reeds may be different in the hall, which is dryer and warmer. The reed may stiffen, raising the pitch. My instrument will also tune higher in warm conditions. I may blow harder in the context of the other instruments, lowering the pitch. It turns out that clarinet goes flat when it plays loud, and sharp when it plays soft. And all the other woodwinds go the opposite way. So the clarinets are left in the dust while everyone else tunes merrily along. Grrrr. What happened to tuning at the factory???

Remember, in the woodwind section there are four completely different instruments playing together. The oboe, a double reed instrument with limited pitch flexibility and dynamic range, and a very dense tone; the bassoon, another double reed with a much lower range and extremely complex acoustical layout, the flute with no reed but with a radically different sound production, and the clarinet, which is acoustically alien to all the others. It’s like the United Nations; We all pretend we get along, but blame the others for all the problems.

So how do we ever sound good together? My section has been together 16 years, and we know each others playing, temperaments, habits, weaknesses, strengths. With lots of trust, intuition, experience and ten tons of concentration on the moment, we often manage to sound like one instrument. At least during the tuning note. Then the concert begins and it’s each for himself.

Tone

I spent a few hours last week with a long time colleague. She played in the Kennedy Center Opera House orchestra with me while I was there from 1983-89. I’ve always respected and liked her, both as a person and a clarinetist. It’s been at least ten years since we’ve seen each other. I was in the DC area for a few days. So we got together.

I’m not much for shop talk. I’ve always believed in striving for my own ideals and finding my own way. I chose to spend more of my life and time doing other things such as gardening, writing, traveling, reading. Music is only a piece of the whole picture for me.

Lora is one of the few clarinetists I like to talk “shop” with. She had recently gotten a new “Vintage” mouthpiece from Brad Behn, who claims to have recreated the old hard rubber of the famous “Chedeville” mouthpieces from the 50’s. I wanted to compare it to my Lelandais Chedeville, which I love, but which is also getting old and worn. Over the years I’ve tried many new mouthpieces, some of which I’ve used for months and which are excellent. But I always come back to the Lelandais. There’s something in its sound, a color and resonance missing in all the others.

So we started warming up. We have very different tones. Hers is more round than mine, but more fuzzy. Mine is perhaps more pointed and clearer, but less deep than hers. We tried the new mouthpiece with different reeds and ligatures. Some combinations worked better than others. That’s another post. But it was fairly clear this new brand of mouthpiece would be a strong contender against the inimitable old Chedevilles.

Why is tone so important to us? Of course, it’s crucial to have good tone along with the other skills of a musician, technique and musicality. But tone is not as easily measured. It’s subjective. Each listener will have a preference. So will each player. And there are different schools of tone. The French were famous for their focus and clarity, using lighter, flexible tone to express themselves. The German school stove for a heavier and darker, more earthy sound. Karl Leister is one of the great German clarinetists, whose sound is rich and dark. I use the past tense with those schools, because the lines have been blurred by easy access to recordings and foreign equipment. Most players can now pick and choose who they wish to emulate, rather than subscribe to a particular school.

Tone becomes a personal stamp, the most basic way to appeal to a listener. I have always emulated Robert Marcellus, whose tone is unforgettable. But even he once said to me, “Don’t try to sound like me, just follow your inner ear.” And Loren Kitt once advised me, “No matter what mouthpiece you play on, you’ll eventually sound like yourself. So play what’s comfortable.” …sound like yourself…inner ear. So what is the ideal sound I wish to produce?

Marcellus described the clarinet sound as “pear” shaped, deeper and wider at the bottom, more pointed at the top. I like that image. I strive to produce a “diamond” dense clarity from my sound. I want a sound which will ring in the back of the hall, even if I’m playing pianissimo. I often lament that I desire such a “clear” sound, because clarity is hair’s breath from “edgy” or “bright”, two qualities I abhor. Harold Wright had an incredibly dense, pure sound, with no edge. (he played a Lelandais) And his tone was flexible and light, like a flute. Though I respect and love his sound, I still have my own ideal, not quite like his. I want deep, resonante, clear tone, the way my inner ear guides me.

Tone is the Holy Grail. When I’m in the sweet spot, with the right reed, and the stars are aligned, I never want to leave. I just want to feel that perfect sound vibrating, emanating from me. It’s like chocolate. Once you taste the good stuff, there’s no turning back. I’ve been addicted for 34 years. And I don’t plan to quit.

At one point Lora said I needed more “body” in my sound. She was right. I was focused on “focus” to the exclusion of “body”. That’s why I like her. She can criticize me gently and effectively. I think she also came away with some new ideas about sound. She preferred the ligature I was playing, which helped focus her sound. I enjoyed and benefited from talking shop over coffee with a good friend. It doesn’t get much better than that.