Recently, I’ve been working on Telemann’s Concerto in E minor for Two Flutes with Basso Continuo TWV 53: e2, Burn’s Highland Mary, a set of contemporary strathspeys ending with a jig, a set of polkas and Handel’s Flute Sonata in F for my recital (more of that in another blog).  

We’ve just come to the end of the third performance block, and what a joy it’s been making music together, although music is such a conundrum. After rehearsing the Telemann, in which I played Concertante (solo) flute 2, I come away all serene and think to myself that I can play the flute. After a wind band rehearsal of Copland’s Salon Mexico, where the first flute part is at the absolute top of the range  and I can hardly play it (too much shrieking!), I come away wondering whether I will ever be able to play the flute. It’s a balance - playing baroque music is intangibly joyful while mastering something like the Copland will be an achievement. I know that if all the music I played was easy, it wouldn’t be an enduring pleasure and it wouldn’t keep my attention for a lifetime. 


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It’s not surprising that Telemann was so prolific. Born in 1681, he lived until he was 86, dying in 1767. The Oxford Music dictionary observes that “He remained at the forefront of musical innovation throughout his career, and was an important link between the late Baroque and early Classical styles. He also contributed significantly to Germany’s concert life and the fields of music publishing, music education and theory.” He composed over 1000 works, of which at least 125 were concertos. Many of these were “tafelmusik”, smaller scale pieces designed for domestic music-making. I would have like to know more about when and why Telemann composed this work. I have been unable to find information specific to the concerto we played, but it appears to have been composed around 1720 - 30. Have a listen - (I've removed the clapping between movements, and normalised the recording in audacity).

Concerto Grosso in E minor for Two Flutes and Bassoon - Stevenson College String Group:


In a completely different genre, some utterly simple tunes like Highland Mary are so beautiful in themselves that they transcend everything else. Our arrangement, which weaves instrumental interludes around the solo voice, never failed to create a shiver down my spine - so lovely.


Highland Mary - Stevenson College Trad Band:
While I’m looking forward to enjoying the Easter holidays, I have already started having nightmares about my recital and there’s so much work to be done for theory! Onward... and onward.
 
In the past few weeks, I have played accompanied solos twice in the Thursday afternoon performance session - once on the silver flute and once on the concertina.

In  February, I played two of the Canadian waltzes that I have been working on since December: La Have River and Valse Frontenac (both recorded by Chris Norman). 

The La Have River waltz, in particular,  has been a big challenge to bring to performance level, on all sorts of levels. The tuning of the third octave high notes on my 19C wooden Rudall and Rose flute was unacceptable to me, and while changing the fingering improved things to some degree, the alternate fingerings made it difficult to express the waltzes the way I wanted to. In desperation, I tried to play them on the silver flute Boehm  which hugely improved the tuning but created embouchure and fingering problems, as I only started playing the silver flute last November. I realized I needed a teacher, and am now having Boehm flute lessons, focussing on breath support and fingering agility, and I feel much more in control which is a great feeling when I’m performing on my own.

I put off performing the two waltzes until I felt that they were ready. I think the performance went really well; there was good feedback, and just as importantly, I felt that I played them the way I wanted them to sound (in my head).

I do suffer from performance nerves along with an exaggerated “awareness of impending doom” for several days before a planned solo performance. The feedback on the day was that it wasn’t obvious. Because I was confident that I had put the work in, I was able to recognize my nerves while playing, focus on breathing and breathe them away. I’ve never before been able to overcome my nerves while actually playing, so that was a great experience.

Today, I played an unknown tune, gan ainm*, in the performance class. It was a last-minute decision, as we were still fine-tuning the harmony and my transcription when we rehearsed it yesterday, and I’d only come up with the variations over the weekend. Although there were a couple of note blips, overall I feel satisfied that I expressed what I am trying to with the piece. The feedback was positive. It’s funny how the concertina is a bit of a novelty instrument with a unique sound.

I hadn’t really had time to be nervous, especially since I’ve been focussed on this week’s assessments. I did start to feel nervous early on, but I just reminded myself to breathe, and then I was too busy concentrating on playing to pay attention to the nerves. Maybe for me that’s the trick - to be well-prepared, confident in my ability to play the notes and with a well-formed understanding of what I’m trying express - and then, deal with my nerves by “just” breathing.

In general, I really like performing in public - and I hardly feel nervous about playing within a band. But as a solo musician, I worry about how the audience will receive the music, whether they’ll like it, whether they’ll like me, whether they’ll be interested in the genre of music... blah blah blah. That’s what causes my nerves... 

I think I need to learn to put all of these worries aside - and just breathe.

*I heard this beautiful, pensive, four-part tune on an online repeat of the Traveling Folk radio programme, and there was no list of the the tunes included in the programme. If you know the name or composer of this beautiful tune, please get in touch and let me know!