Texts
This is the text of a letter written in response to one by Kim Pineda, my traverso-buddy from Seattle. Both of these letters were posted on the Early Flute Forum. My posting was entitled Liz Taylor’s Moustache:
Hello Kim, thanks for your thought-provoking post...I have been turning this all over and over, and cannot help but feel that loudness itself is not really the issue, but quality of sound; in our search for a concise traverso sound, volume has been sacrificed on the Altar of Taste. I mean, let's face it, if we blow harder, there will be more air in the sound, and air in the sound is, at the moment, a traverso no-no.
It’s easy to see where this comes from; if we go back and listen to the old Harnoncourt/Concentus recordings of Bach cantatas we will hear a very different standard of traverso playing. Stasny's playing certainly deserves our grateful acknowledgement, he was a pioneer and he and Bruggen laid the foundations of our trade, but the sound is breathy, tremulous and the intonation poor. Still, in the 1970's we thought that this was what the traverso sounded like. Then along came Bart and an aesthetic earthquake shook the traverso world. Here was a clear, molded, vibrato-less sound, exquisite and musical beyond what anyone had dreamed! I shall never forget my own amazement at the first Bart recording I heard, nor the astonishment and admiration Bob Willoughby expressed for Bart during a lesson shortly thereafter. It was as if a miracle had occurred...and to be honest, it really had!
But those qualities which separated Bart from Bruggen and Stasny somehow became elevated by his devotees to the sole criteria for judging traverso playing...suddenly it seemed like a traverso sound was good for what it lacked (air and vibrato) rather than for what it possessed (color, dynamic range, expression). And thus, we all had to play softer, to keep the sound pure. Whether this ideology reflects 18th-century taste is another matter however, as Quantz' remarks on sound in the Versuch and his controversy with von Moldonit make clear.
In this context it might be worth mentioning that I once heard an 18th-century organ with a "flauto traverso" stop: the pipes were especially constructed to produce a very breathy sound! Let’s not forget that, in non-Western flute playing, breathy-ness is often considered an essential, spiritual quality in flute sound. Indeed, the greatest flute player I know, Hariprasad Chaurasia, plays with an incredibly concentrated sound wreathed in a beauteous breathiness, and with this combination of power, control and air creates the most expressive and moving flute music I have ever heard. Might it be that we flute players are ready to broaden our horizons a bit, looking to other cultures and aesthetics to put the taste of the 1970-90's into perspective? After all, early music no longer needs to justify its self; we no longer need to demonstrate to a hostile Classical Music Community that the modern Boehm flute is not an "improvement" on the traverso when one is dealing with 18th-century repertoire. I had a real eye-opening experience recently at a Ceili, when I was chatting to the Irish flutist in the band....he was quite interested in taking up traverso, but when I mentioned that his embouchure would have to be refined in order to get a purer sound he looked indignant: "But that's what I love about the sound, the air in it! That's the beauty of it!"
Perfection is, after all....well, perfect. But it's not sexy. Sensuality is messy, warm, and human...imperfect to a degree, and a lot of fun! Which reminds me of something I read once, a description of Liz Taylor's beauty and mesmerizing charms; I have forgotten both the writer and the context, but shall never forget the thrust of the argument, for, according the author, Liz Taylor's real charm lay not in her huge violet eyes, her copious raven hair, nor even her abundant, snowy bosom, but rather in the hint, the slightest trace, of down just above her crimson lip...
All the Best!
Jed
Last update: Wednesday, October 25, 2006