Why oboe?

I just came across a video on YouTube from a 1997 broadcast where a few oboists were interviewed and talked about the oboe and their experiences with the instruments. The title of the video–”Why would anybody want to play the oboe?”–is quite appropriate, especially when it concerns reedmaking. Here is the video:

I always remember when I chose the oboe as my instrument. Or maybe the oboe chose me through its piercing, enchanting, and melodious call. I was about 13 years old and living in Brazil. At that time, I had been playing the recorder for several years, and was quite proficient at it, but there was an expectation that we moved to a “real” instrument after the initiation in music through the recorder.

I knew I was not going to stop my music playing there, so I was thinking and plotting about my new instrument. I thought about the violin, and even had one, but that idea never flew. I thought about other instruments. At the time, I was playing in a youth orchestra and had the chance to try the instruments that my friends played. I tried the flute, trumpet, and cello, among others. I had already tried the piano and the classical guitar. For some reason, they didn’t feel right for me.

One evening, however, my dad took me to a concert by the city’s symphony orchestra so that I could listen to the instruments and have a better idea of which one to choose. I had gone to concerts before, and I knew the instruments, but that evening was magic: it was the time I was going to pick my path. Little did I know that that particular choice would lead me to a long and wonderful but challenging journey.

I listened to the whole concert very attentively, with my eyes shining at every solo of every instrument, even if the solo was two-notes long. For some reason, there was this buzz through my body and a smile on my face every time that the oboe was played. Its sound crossed through the orchestra and was delivered to my ears as a gift of the gods. I knew it; I just knew it. Like a cobra, I was enchanted by this mysterious and involving sound. I had to have more of it; I wanted to make it sing too.

As I watched the orchestra, I found the oboe so small and fragile compared to the other instruments around it. How could it be so small and so powerful? Even the orchestra’s concertmaster had to ask the oboist’s advice about how the orchestra should tune that evening; how was the most appropriate A for that event. Without any special effects or rituals, the oboist just played. It was just one note, and that was all that was needed. One single A from the oboe, and the parts started to connect: woodwinds, brass, strings, percussion. The group suddenly became a giant, a gentle but strong giant.

I knew it; I just knew it… After the concert, my dad took me backstage. He knew some of the musicians; he had played in that orchestra before. I remember that there were many people coming and going, and it was confusing. Finally, my dad introduced me to the first oboist of the orchestra. He was already leaving the theater, so it was a brief conversation, but it was enough. He invited me to go to his house on a calmer day to talk more about the oboe. I did. It was the first time I had that magic instrument in my hands. It seemed simple from the distance at the auditorium, but all those keys, the small reed, all of the tools… It was like a different reality. He showed me where the fingers went on the keys. He let me blow a reed, which is almost a surreal experience on the first time. That was my first lesson. He would then become my first oboe teacher. As coincidences go, at that time, he was selling an oboe that came to his hands. It was a Chinese oboe. He recommended it as a first instrument. It was definitely not a great instrument, although it was for me. I still have it after about 25 years. It no longer plays, but brings me wonderful memories of my first steps in this enchanted and tortuous path that is playing the oboe.

So, why would anybody want to play the oboe? I can’t speak for others, but I… I knew it; I just knew it…

Oboe and Shakuhachi

I have always been interested in musical instruments of any kind, although my personal “expertise” and preference is in woodwind instruments. The oboe is my official instrument (and life companion), but I have tried other instruments, one of which is the shakuhachi,

or the Japanese bamboo flute. When I still lived in Michigan, more than 10 years ago, I came across this curious flute that looked so simple in its construction, but so expressive in its sound. After learning more about it in a lecture presented by Michael “Chikuzen” Gould, I took about one semester of lessons with this great master. It was an incredible experience. I cannot say that I know how to play the shakuhachi, but I know where the basic notes are and how to make them sound okay. Since I was borrowing a flute while having lessons, after I stopped the lessons I had to return it. A few years later, I had the opportunity of acquiring my own shakuhachi. Because I live in Arizona and have already enough problems with my oboes and the dryness here, I decided to invest in a shakuhachi made of ABS resin (the Shakuhachi Yuu). It is a student instrument, but for me at this point, it is perfect.

What I came to realize, as I tried to learn more how to play the shakuhachi on my own, is that it has helped me to play better the oboe. Although the embouchure is completely different (and I’ve seen oboists who could not make a sound on a shakuhachi because of that), one of the focuses of shakuhachi playing is in the quality of the sound. There are no reeds or keys to get in the way; it is pure breathing. This is why many people play this instrument for meditation purposes. There is a quite complex technique involved if one aims to become proficient on the shakuhachi, but for my intention here, I am not going to discuss its technique. When I practice it more seriously, I pay attention to my posture, the amount of air and velocity to make the note resonate just right, and how this makes my body resonate together with the sound. It is when I have this feeling of resonance of the body with the instrument and with the environment that I know I found the right spot for that note. The challenge then is to find this spot for every note.

The same idea can be applied to the oboe, and many oboists do that during their regular long-notes practices. What I have always been curious though is what exactly the oboist is thinking at that moment, and what he or she consciously wants to accomplish with this practice. Many would simply say that it helps improve endurance, intonation, and the overall quality of the notes. I completely agree with these goals, but for me, in addition to them, I also need to feel that resonance of the “right spot.” The simplicity of the shakuhachi allows the player to focus more easily on the sound, and this is what I try to bring to the oboe playing. Sometimes I just close my eyes, forget about the tuner, metronome, clock, and other distractions, and just try to find the “right spot” for each note as I play long notes. As I do that, I pay attention to the whole path that the air goes through, from the environment to my lungs and back to the environment, and how each element along the way affects the air (mouth, nose, lungs, diaphragm, reed, instrument, and direction of the sound, among others). It is almost a meditative practice, and it helps me become more aware of my own playing and how I want my playing to be.

Along the lines of shakuhachi practice helping oboe practice, I found a few guidelines suggested for the daily practice of the shakuhachi at Gene Neill’s Shakuhachi Web Site. After reading them, I thought that they could also be useful for the oboe practice, so I am copying them here and hoping that other oboists also find them useful.

Back from the 2011 IDRS Conference

Last week, I participated for the first time in an International Double Reed Society conference. This year, it was at the Arizona State University, in Phoenix (well, actually, in Tempe). I didn’t perform anything in there, actually, I barely played at all. I went to immerse myself again in the world of “double reeders”. It’s funny what some years out of the circuit do. I didn’t know anyone there, but I did enjoy the event very much. I took advantage that this year it was close to where I live, and drove up to Phoenix to see and listen to the latest (and greatest) trends in oboe.

It is not my intention to write here a full report of my trip, just to point out a few things that called my attention the most. I missed the first day, but I stayed until the end of the conference. On the second day, I sat in a great lecture on getting started with the Baroque oboe, presented by Adam Shapiro. He talked about all of the basics in terms of reeds, particular techniques, makers, and general resources. Although I have been learning and researching about the Baroque oboe on my own and knew some of the information he presented, I also left the lecture with a lot of very useful information.

Still on the same day, I went to an oboe and bassoon recital with two French musicians, Helene Devilleneuve (oboe) and Julien Hardy (bassoon). The program included 19th and 20th centuries pieces. I have to confess that I was very impressed with Devilleneuve’s playing and performance. She has a beautiful, full, and very expressive sound. It is an European sound, and I like it. Later in the conference I was able to talk briefly with her and to try her reed (on a great Rigoutat oboe). When I started playing the oboe ages ago, I used an European style of reed (more German), and playing her reed was like going back in time in a good way. It was a French scrape and it was so easy to play (and play well). I think that for now, I will go back to my European-reed origins and move my American reeds to the “back burner” case.

In fact, it was the difference between the American sound and the European sound that called my attention the most during this conference. The differences, at least for me, were quite striking. I think that the best description of the main difference was given by one of the exhibitors to whom I was talking. He said that lately, there has been a greater focus of American oboists to adjust their sound to the standards set up to orchestra playing. That is, since most of the jobs are in orchestras, it seems logical to be prepared to this market. It’s almost like taking Tabuteau’s tradition to an extreme. The result is that many American oboists end up not being able to express their own individuality, and having a sound that resemble the sound of all the other oboists. Meanwhile, the exhibitor was saying, the European sound is more individual, more distinguishable. After we spoke, I started to pay more attention to this difference in the recitals and concerts I attended, and I did notice his point very clearly.

In addition to the sound, I also noticed that the stage presence is different, especially on what it concerns the interaction with the audience. European oboists (and bassoonists) tended to be more engaging, kept more eye contact (with the audience and with other musicians), and gave the impression of being freer on stage. I missed that with some of the American performers. I don’t say this with any negative intention. It is just what I personally noticed. In some performances, I didn’t even feel like I, in the audience, was part of the event. The music was performed very well, but it was the impression of the lack of engagement that particularly called my attention. This is something I automatically tend to focus on because of my background in performance and in education and educational psychology. I relate a performance to a classroom in which the teacher has to be engaging in order to facilitate the learning of the material. The same way a student can learn by solely reading a book, a listener can enjoy music by just listening to a recording. It is my impression and my opinion, but I strongly believe that it is the constant interaction between the musician and the audience that makes a live performance successful.

Again, I want to emphasize that I’m not criticizing any one or any particular school of playing, but I do tend to analyze performances (it is a personal and professional interest of mine). In the topic of performances, stage presence, and sound, one of the stars of the conference, Nicholas Daniel, did an excellent job in his concerts and masterclass. It was a treat to listen to him playing live. In addition to his masterclass, other master classes that I enjoyed were on preparation for orchestra auditions with Dwight Parry, on the Strauss oboe concerto with Peter Cooper, and a more generic one with Richard Woodhams. I also want to mention the amazing performance at the final concert from Emmanuel Laville, the winner of the 2011 Fernand Gillet-Hugo Fox oboe competition. The guy is good, very good.

Besides all these events, there is always the “toys” section at the conference, with new shiny oboes, English horns, and bassoons, and all kinds of accessories. The fun part was to try the oboes. It was the first time for me to have all this variety of instruments to try, and I took advantage of the opportunity. My oboe is a Loree full automatic, and because I am more familiar with this brand, I wanted to try different ones. I tried a few Marigaux models, Howarth, Rigoutat, Patricola, Gebr. Monnig, Josef, and Fossati. All of them are wonderful. I was, however, very impressed with the ones from Gebr. Monnig (the ones Albrecht Meyer uses). They have a clear European sound, full, resonant, and flexible. Amazing instruments. I was particularly curious about the Fossati and Josef oboes, since I’ve only seen them online. I was not impressed with the ones from Fossati, the sound was small and weak, but on the other hand, Josef oboes have a great full sound. I particularly liked the model with an European bore. What I didn’t like about the Josef instruments was that I like to have more flexibility in terms of sound color and they were a little resistant when I tried to push the boundaries. Howarth and Patricola oboes had great, stable, and nice sound (Howarth had a fuller sound, but Patricola was more flexible). Marigaux is an all around classic and in my opinion works well in any situation (like the Lorees). I was however surprised about how good the Rigoutat oboes were, particular the Evolution model (it resonated better with me). Not only its sound is full and rich, but it also gives me the flexibility of sound that I like. It became a serious contender for me in case I win the lottery and decide to buy a new instrument. Okay, okay, if I won the lottery I would buy both a Rigoutat AND a Gebr. Monnig. Now seriously, the main lesson I learned from trying the different instruments is that when we find the right one for us, then all of the concerns about the technique and the mechanics of the instrument and the reed seem to automatically disappear for the moment, and we can finally focus on making music. The instrument is nothing more than that: an instrument. If we know what we want to say, or play, if we have the story we want to tell, then having the right tool just make the telling easier and more effective.

Overall, the whole conference was great, with incredible performances and musicians. I came back more excited than I was about my revived oboe playing passion, and I also realized that although I may still be out of shape, I am not a bad player. Maybe one day I’ll be playing in one (or more) ensemble and teaching a few lessons.

A short recording – The first

My Loree AK full automatic and my Baroque oboe

After having stopped playing my oboe for almost 10 years, I am now playing it again. I’ve been practicing now for almost a year (since August 2010). Technique, endurance, sound are little by little coming back along with reed making skills. Since then, I’ve been sitting in on the oboe masterclasses that are offered to oboe students here at the University of Arizona. This has allowed me to review many oboe related topics I no longer remembered, learn new information, and play a little with others. This past semester, I had the opportunity of playing with the University’s symphony orchestra. It has been wonderful being able to make music again and realize that I’m not that bad after all these years.

I have been planning on telling more about my return to oboe here in my blog and this will happen in future posts. I have also wanted to post some recent recordings of me playing. This is still on my plans and I’ve been preparing myself for it. However, with the end of the semester at the university along with a bad cold, I had to stop the practice for a few days. I am already back though, but one day without practice means two days to catch up; one week with no practice, well, takes a little while to catch up.

I decided to do something different though. I did recorded myself playing (today), but I didn’t play my oboe. I played my Akai EWI USB, a wind controller.

Akai EWI USB

The piece is the Gloria Domine Deus by Vivaldi for voice, oboe, and continuo. I played the voice and oboe parts on the EWI and created a MIDI file for the continuo. The only editing I did was to put the parts together. I think the final product came out really nice.

Press play below and check it out. (For whatever reason, I’m not being able to play this on Google Chrome and on Internet Explorer, but it plays on Firefox. By the way, this is a Flash player.)

I added the player below so that the piece can be played on (hopefully) all browsers. I just wasn’t very happy with the sound quality of this player. It seems like some of the fullness of the sound is lost. That’s why I kept the player above.

Well, this was fun, now back to my work: the dissertation…

Music, movement, and emotion (scientifically speaking…)

I’ve been following Robin’s blog (Born Again Oboe!), and in one of his postings (http://robindeshautbois.blogspot.com/2011/03/wave-for-camera.html) he commented on oboists moving, or “dancing,” while they play. I’ve came across different opinions about this debate, and I personally think that there is no final conclusion about the best approach. As long as the message is sent and the movements (or lack of them) are not distracting, then it is fine. I know that I have a tendency to move while I play. Sometimes I avoid it during practice, so I can focus on the details, but when performing or playing for fun, I just let it happen.

I had this in mind when I came across this short lecture by Daniel J. Levitin (psychology professor at McGill University) on music and the brain, and our natural tendency to move when we hear music. From a psychological and anthropological perspective, he states that not only has music, or musical sounds, been used to promote movement, be that in dancing or to synchronize laborers, but also that these sounds are processed in more primitive structures of the brain: the cerebellum, the brain stem, and the ponds. This does not mean that sounds are not processed in the cerebral cortex, but Levitin makes the point that in studies, language processing did not activate the primitive parts of the brain, while that music did. This indicates that music preceded language as our way of communicating with each other. He also raises the point that these primitive structures are associated with movement, and that the motor system is able to synchronize the incoming sounds with appropriate body movements. This means that our tendency to move while playing music is more natural than our conscious efforts to be still. Here is the video:

Levitin has also two more recent videos on an experiment he has been conducting on how musicians communicate emotions by manipulating expressive musical elements. He used the piano in his study, and for this instrument, he identified four musical elements normally used by musicians to express emotions: when to hit the key, when to let up the key, how hard to hit the key, and where to put the pedal. He says that all of the expressivity comes from the different combination of these elements. From a scholar perspective, I think that it is impressive that so few items can be responsible for such wide variety of outcomes. From a musician’s point-of-view, or a more romanticized view, however, I think it is like revealing the magic secret, or removing some of the mystique of the music. I guess that we, musicians, are like magicians in that we practice over and over each element of our piece separately, put them together carefully, and then present them as a whole, so that our audience does not notice the parts. In any case, here are Levitin’s videos on his experiment:

Bill Bailey’s Remarkable Guide to the Orchestra

I don’t have much to say about this video, but I wanted to share it. I think it is entertaining and funny. This is Bill Bailey, a British comedian, musician and actor, and the BBC Concert Orchestra. The performance is about 1 hour long, so sit back, relax, and enjoy the show.

Changing the tradition: The new orchestra

I came across a posting that I just had to mention here. It shows how orchestras are incorporating new technologies and moving toward the future. The link is
http://www.brainpickings.org/index.php/2009/03/09/orchestra-innovation/

In there, three examples are mentioned:

1. A concert by the Hamburg Philharmonic, where the musicians were dispersed across Hamburg and connected to each other through cameras and monitors.
   The video of the concert can be found at
   http://www.philharmoniker-event.de (click on “Ansehen” to watch it).
   .
2. Gustavo Dudamel and the Teresa Carreno Youth Orchestra (from Venezuela). Incredible world-class orchestra. More information can be found here:
   http://www.ted.com/speakers/the_teresa_carreno_youth_orchestra.html
   
   
   .
3. Finally, the YouTube Symphony Orchestra, which is connecting classical (and not so classical) musicians from across the world.
   http://www.youtube.com/symphony

It is really nice to see how people are bringing the old and the new together and creating incredible forms of musical art. What is especially striking to me is that instead of using technology to isolate people (one playing along with his or her own computer), in these examples, technology is used to bring people together to express their music.