Hyper-specializing in Saxophone Using Acoustical Insight and Deep Listening Skills [1st ed.] 978-3-030-15045-7;978-3-030-15046-4

Table of contents :
Front Matter ....Pages i-xii
Introduction (Jonas Braasch)....Pages 1-4
Acoustics of the Saxophone (Jonas Braasch)....Pages 5-37
Extended Techniques for the Saxophone (Jonas Braasch)....Pages 39-45
Deep Listening (Jonas Braasch)....Pages 47-72
Grafted Instruments (Jonas Braasch)....Pages 73-149
The Sonic Circle (Jonas Braasch)....Pages 151-175
Sound Radiation, Recording, and Environment (Jonas Braasch)....Pages 177-186
Epilogue (Jonas Braasch)....Pages 187-188
Back Matter ....Pages 189-205

Citation preview

Current Research in Systematic Musicology

Jonas Braasch

Hyper-specializing in Saxophone Using Acoustical Insight and Deep Listening Skills

Current Research in Systematic Musicology Volume 6

Series Editors Rolf Bader, Musikwissenschaftliches Institut, Universität Hamburg, Hamburg, Germany Marc Leman, University of Ghent, Ghent, Belgium Rolf-Inge Godoy, Blindern, University of Oslo, Oslo, Norway

The series covers recent research, hot topics, and trends in Systematic Musicology. Following the highly interdisciplinary nature of the field, the publications connect different views upon musical topics and problems with the field’s multiple methodology, theoretical background, and models. It fuses experimental findings, computational models, psychological and neurocognitive research, and ethnic and urban field work into an understanding of music and its features. It also supports a pro-active view on the field, suggesting hard- and software solutions, new musical instruments and instrument controls, content systems, or patents in the field of music. Its aim is to proceed in the over 100 years international and interdisciplinary tradition of Systematic Musicology by presenting current research and new ideas next to review papers and conceptual outlooks. It is open for thematic volumes, monographs, and conference proceedings. The series therefore covers the core of Systematic Musicology,—Musical Acoustics, which covers the whole range of instrument building and improvement, Musical Signal Processing and Music Information Retrieval, models of acoustical systems, Sound and Studio Production, Room Acoustics, Soundscapes and Sound Design, Music Production software, and all aspects of music tone production. It also covers applications like the design of synthesizers, tone, rhythm, or timbre models based on sound, gaming, or streaming and distribution of music via global networks. – Music Psychology, both in its psychoacoustic and neurocognitive as well as in its performance and action sense, which also includes musical gesture research, models and findings in music therapy, forensic music psychology as used in legal cases, neurocognitive modeling and experimental investigations of the auditory pathway, or synaesthetic and multimodal perception. It also covers ideas and basic concepts of perception and music psychology and global models of music and action. – Music Ethnology in terms of Comparative Musicology, as the search for universals in music by comparing the music of ethnic groups and social structures, including endemic music all over the world, popular music as distributed via global media, art music of ethnic groups, or ethnographic findings in modern urban spaces. Furthermore, the series covers all neighbouring topics of Systematic Musicology.

More information about this series at http://www.springer.com/series/11684

Jonas Braasch

Hyper-specializing in Saxophone Using Acoustical Insight and Deep Listening Skills

123

Jonas Braasch Cognitive and Immersive Systems Laboratory, School of Architecture Rensselaer Polytechnic Institute Troy, NY, USA

ISSN 2196-6966 ISSN 2196-6974 (electronic) Current Research in Systematic Musicology ISBN 978-3-030-15045-7 ISBN 978-3-030-15046-4 (eBook) https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-15046-4 Library of Congress Control Number: 2019933385 © Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2019 This work is subject to copyright. All rights are reserved by the Publisher, whether the whole or part of the material is concerned, specifically the rights of translation, reprinting, reuse of illustrations, recitation, broadcasting, reproduction on microfilms or in any other physical way, and transmission or information storage and retrieval, electronic adaptation, computer software, or by similar or dissimilar methodology now known or hereafter developed. The use of general descriptive names, registered names, trademarks, service marks, etc. in this publication does not imply, even in the absence of a specific statement, that such names are exempt from the relevant protective laws and regulations and therefore free for general use. The publisher, the authors and the editors are safe to assume that the advice and information in this book are believed to be true and accurate at the date of publication. Neither the publisher nor the authors or the editors give a warranty, express or implied, with respect to the material contained herein or for any errors or omissions that may have been made. The publisher remains neutral with regard to jurisdictional claims in published maps and institutional affiliations. This Springer imprint is published by the registered company Springer Nature Switzerland AG The registered company address is: Gewerbestrasse 11, 6330 Cham, Switzerland

Preface

In the summer of 2010, I started to experiment with new sounds on my soprano saxophone by attaching a cornet mouthpiece to it with a crude self-built adapter. Over time, I built more and more mouthpiece adapters for my saxophone and I started to learn to play the soprano saxophone as a brass instrument, a flute, a double-reed instrument, and as a free-reed instrument. I wrote my experiences down in this book, which includes instructions to build some of these adapters, general performance guidelines, exercises, and sample songs for each adapter. I planned to write this book for a long time, but it took a while for me to play these instrument variations at the proficiency level I believed would be needed to make it a meaningful contribution. The book introduces a new wind instrument philosophy, which I call hyper-specialization. Using this concept, the performer extends her instrument to such a degree that it takes on new qualities such as would usually be expected only from switching between instruments. The Circle of Sounds is introduced as a subsequent method to develop a character profile for each of the individual instrument variations. The method focuses on the ability to produce a large variety of sounds with a single wind instrument to enable a performer to adapt to many musical situations. This book would not have been possible without the support I received over the years from mentors, friends, and collaborators who helped me to develop the interdisciplinary expertise needed to write this book. I started to learn tenor saxophone in 1985 with Günter Braunstein after having studied the recorder from early childhood on. Günter was the ideal instructor to teach the fundamentals of jazz and classical saxophone. He was very systematic and complete in his approach and also great at motivating his students to practice. In the 1980s, I also learned many things about music performance from István Nagy, who was the principal piano and composition teacher at our local music school in Marl, Germany. With him, I studied and performed notated classical avant-garde duos for piano and saxophone. Later in the 1990s, I had a saxophone/piano duo with Matthias Scheffel. It was Matthias’ influence that led me to learn to improvise at the borders of modern jazz and classical music. In traditional jazz, I had the opportunity to play with the Herbie Klinger trio (Herbie Klinger, guitar; Stefan Werni, Bass, Lothar Wantia, drums) on v

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a weekly basis for a longer period of time. After the sessions, we would listen to Herbie’s extensive vinyl jazz collection—often into the early mornings. In 1994, I met Jens Blauert, who taught me the fundamentals of acoustics and helped me to improve my ability to think critically—especially with regard to human perception. In particular, the groundbreaking work on product sound quality he conducted with Ute Jekosch helped me to address many concepts in this book. I completed my Ph.D. degree in communication acoustics with Jens in 2001, and we played a lot of jazz together in our institute band during my time at the Ruhr-University Bochum. Christian Ahrens served as my adviser for my Ph.D. thesis in musicology on free-reed stops in pipe organs. From Christian, I learned to address problems from the perspective of a musicologist by trying to understand musical developments from a historical perspective. I also took a number of courses in ethnomusicology with him, which gave me the privilege of learning about many fascinating indigenous cultures. Without the mentorship I received over the years from Christian, it would not have been possible for me to write this book. Another transformative experience for me was meeting and working with Pauline Oliveros over the course of 10 years at Rensselaer Polytechnic Institute where we often played together in our trio Triple Point with Doug Van Nort as our third member. Pauline had the unique ability to teach by listening and thus gave people the intellectual space to discover things themselves. Her concept of Deep Listening is one of the central theories underlying my book. In 2015, Pauline suggested that I take the Deep Listening Certificate Course. I am still amazed at how this course carried me away from traditional thinking. Within this course, I was able to discover many new things, in particular about dreaming from Pauline’s partner Ione (Carole Lewis), and about my body and movement from Heloise Gold. Within the Deep Listening course, I chose the adapted mouthpieces for the saxophone as my project topic, and this project is now the central theme of this book. When Pauline passed away in November 2016 at age 84, I suddenly felt the immediate urge to write my ideas down, and the book you hold in your hands is the result of this urge. In addition to the immense gratitude I owe to my mentors, I would also like to acknowledge further support I received while writing this book. M. Torben Pastore, David Dahlbom, Mallory Morgan, Nikhil Deshpande, Jonathan Mathews, and Samuel Chabot assisted in proofreading the manuscript and provided helpful comments. Financial support for my journey to the Hohle Fels Cave in Schelklingen, Germany, was provided by a Rensselaer Robert S. Brown Fellowship. Reiner Blumentritt, chairman of the Museum Society Schelklingen, enabled me to visit the cave outside the general opening times. Troy, NY

Jonas Braasch

Contents

1 Introduction . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

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2 Acoustics of the Saxophone . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 2.1 Introduction . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 2.2 The Resonator . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 2.2.1 The Cylindrical Resonator . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 2.2.2 The Conical Resonator . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 2.3 The Tone Generator . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 2.3.1 General Mechanisms . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 2.3.2 Acoustical Analysis . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 2.4 Acoustic Coupling of Tone Generator and Resonator System 2.4.1 General Thoughts . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 2.4.2 Physical Coupled Reed/Resonator Model . . . . . . . . . 2.5 The Role of the Vocal Tract . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 2.5.1 Shaping the Instrument’s Timbre . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 2.5.2 Intonation Using Super Formants . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 2.5.3 Articulation . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

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3 Extended Techniques for the Saxophone 3.1 Altissimo Range . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 3.2 Circular Breathing . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 3.3 Singing and Playing . . . . . . . . . . . . .

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4 Deep Listening . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 4.1 Introduction . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 4.2 Hearing and Listening . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 4.2.1 General Definitions and Background . . . . 4.2.2 Focal and Global Listening . . . . . . . . . . 4.2.3 Auditory Scene Analysis . . . . . . . . . . . . 4.2.4 Transparent and Fused Music Ensembles 4.3 Intuitive Listening . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

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4.3.1 Intuitive Approach to Music . . . . . . . . . 4.3.2 Embodiment . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 4.3.3 Enauditioning Situations . . . . . . . . . . . . 4.4 Listening and Understanding . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 4.4.1 Background . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 4.4.2 Sound Quality and Assigning Meaning . 4.4.3 Breaking Cultural Conventions . . . . . . . 4.5 Creating and Adapting to Musical Situations . . 4.5.1 The Freedom of Shared Responsibility . 4.5.2 The New Virtuoso Performer . . . . . . . .

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5 Grafted Instruments . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 5.1 Introduction . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 5.2 Historical Background on the Saxophone . . . . . . . 5.3 The Sarrusophone . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 5.3.1 Historical Background . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 5.3.2 Construction . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 5.3.3 General Playing Instructions . . . . . . . . . . . 5.3.4 Songs . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 5.4 The Cornett . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 5.4.1 Historical Background . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 5.4.2 On the Use of the Saxophone as a Cornett 5.4.3 Construction . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 5.4.4 Embouchure . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 5.4.5 Exercises . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 5.4.6 Cornett Repertoire . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 5.5 Rim Flute . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 5.5.1 Historical Context . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 5.5.2 Mouthpiece Adapter . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 5.5.3 General Playing Instructions . . . . . . . . . . . 5.5.4 Daily Exercises . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 5.5.5 Songs . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 5.6 Didjeridu . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 5.6.1 Historical Context . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 5.6.2 Construction . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 5.6.3 General Playing Instructions . . . . . . . . . . . 5.7 Bawu . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 5.7.1 Classification . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 5.7.2 Construction . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 5.7.3 General Playing Instructions . . . . . . . . . . . 5.7.4 Songs . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

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Contents

5.8 Duduk . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 5.8.1 Historical Background . . . . . 5.8.2 Construction . . . . . . . . . . . . 5.8.3 General Playing Instructions . 5.8.4 Songs . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

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6 The Sonic Circle . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 6.1 On Diversity and Cultural Equality . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 6.2 Tracing Our Ancestral Voices Back to Intuitive and Rational Thinking . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 6.3 Traditional Social Roles for Wind-Instrument Players . . . . . . 6.4 The Sonic Circle . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 6.5 Practicing Through the Circle of Sounds . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 6.6 Applying Sound Quality . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 6.6.1 Absolute Sound Quality Assessment . . . . . . . . . . . . . 6.6.2 Sound Quality of the Instrument Variations . . . . . . . . 6.6.3 Character Profile Suitability . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 6.7 Case Study 1: The Stiff Cow Leads the Way . . . . . . . . . . . . 6.8 Case Study 2: Doppelgaenger . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

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7 Sound Radiation, Recording, and Environment . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 177 8 Epilogue . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 187 References . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 189 Index . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 201

About the Author

Jonas Braasch is a psychoacoustician, aural architect, and experimental musician focusing on free and structured improvisation. His saxophone style expands the traditional repertoire by incorporating various nonwestern elements and extended techniques. His work includes two solo albums with the Deep Listening Label: Global Reflections and Sonic Territories. Together with Pauline Oliveros and Doug Van Nort, he formed the trio Triple Point in 2008, which existed until Pauline’s passing in 2016. In 2014, the trio released the three CD set Phase Transitions with Pogus Records. He also performed with the Deep Listening Band. He received a Master’s Degree in Physics from the Technical University of Dortmund in 1998, and two doctoral degrees from the University of Bochum in Electrical Engineering and Information Technology in 2001 and Musicology in 2004. His research work focuses on functional models of the auditory system, large-scale immersive and interactive virtual reality systems, and intelligent music systems. Currently, he is interested in binaural models that can handle room reflections and simulate head movements. He is also working on an intelligent music agent, Caira, to understand and simulate human creativity in the context of free music improvisation. He worked as Assistant Professor in McGill University’s Sound Recording Program before joining Rensselaer Polytechnic Institute in 2006, where he is now Professor in the Architectural Acoustics Program within the School of Architecture. At Rensselaer, he also serves as Director of Operations of the Cognitive and Immersive Systems Laboratory (CISL). In 2008, he was appointed to the board of trustees of the Deep Listening Institute, where he also served as Vice President from 2012 until the Deep Listening Institute was transformed into a Center at Rensselaer Polytechnic Institute in 2014. He has also served as Associate Editor of the Journal of the Acoustical Society of America for Psychoacoustics since 2016.

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About the Author

Discography • J. Braasch (2006) Global Reflections, audio compact disk, Jonas Braasch, soprano saxophone, field recordings, electronic processing and composition, Deep Listening Publications DL 34-2006, Kingston, NY. • J. Braasch, P. Oliveros, B. Woodstrup, C. Chafe and others (2008) Tele-Colonization, digital video release, recording of the ICAD Concert in 2007. Deep Listening Records TS1, Kingston, NY. • Triple Point (2009) Sound Shadows, digital album, Jonas Braasch, soprano saxophone; Stuart Dempster, trombone, didjeridu, little instruments; Shane Myrbeck, mixing and mastering; Pauline Oliveros, digital accordion, Expanded Instrument System (EIS, Track 3); Doug Van Nort, laptop, GREIS, additional mixing and spectral processing on Tracks 4 and 6. Deep Listening Records, DL-DD-1. • Jonas Braasch (2011) Sonic Territories, DVD video with 5-channel surround sound, Jonas Braasch, soprano saxophone, field recordings, electronic processing and composition, Deep Listening Records, DL-DVD-4. • Pauline Oliveros, Francisco López, Doug Van Nort, Jonas Braasch (2011) Quartet for the End of Space, Pauline Oliveros, digital accordion; Francisco López, electronics; Doug Van Nort, electronics; Jonas Braasch, soprano saxophone; work contains 8 electroacoustic compositions (2 from each composer) based on improvised session material with the ensemble, audio compact disk, Pogus Records 21059-2. • Triple Point (2014) Phase/Transition, Jonas Braasch, soprano saxophone; Pauline Oliveros, V-accordion; Doug Van Nort, granular-feedback expanded instrument system (GREIS) electronics, audio compact disk 3 CDs, Pogus Records 21078-2. • Deep Listening Band (2014) Dunrobin Sonic Gems, Pauline Oliveros, V-Accordion, Conch Shell; Stuart Dempster, trombone, didjeridu, Jonas Braasch, soprano saxophone; Ione, opening invocation; Jesse Stewart, percussion; Johannes Welsch, gongs, recorded live on October 5, 2013 at the Dunrobin Sonic Gym, Deep Listening Records.

Chapter 1

Introduction

The goal of this book is to provide a new saxophone method that aims at a novel, versatile performance style by means of different, exchangeable mouthpieces for the instrument. Instead of developing a unitary, iconic sound as existing teaching methods of wind instruments typically do, the approach of this book focuses on the production of multiple, diverse sonic identities. These can be used to adapt to different musical scenarios including performance styles driven by both intuitive and rational thinking processes. When classical orchestras evolved in the 17th century towards a more modern form, musicians started to specialize in a single instrument with strict technical requirements [256, p. 21]. These skills were taught in newly-founded conservatories to prepare students in orchestral repertoire performance. Before this era, musicians often played multiple instruments and switched between them during a performance. In the approach described here, the musician can continue to perform on a single wind instrument, but the instrument is drastically expanded through the use of additional sound generators and extended techniques. Through further specialization in this instrument, the performer needs to master it to a level that the instrument takes on additional attributes and characteristics from other wind instrument families. This constitutes the process I call hyper-specialization. The idea of hyper-specializing on the saxophone is to provide an extended tonal flexibility while maintaining the standard fingering system the player has already mastered at a high standard of technical proficiency. In essence, one specializes in such depth on one instrument that it opens many affordances from other instruments. The soprano saxophone turned out to be a suitable instrument for this adventure, but readers are equally encouraged to hyper-specialize on other wind instruments. The saxophone is ideal because its large bore offers the needed flexibility. A player can mimic the acoustic imprint of an instrument with a narrow bore on an instrument with a wider bore by narrowing the vocal tract, but an instrument with a narrow bore cannot be made to sound like one with a wide bore. We will discuss the necessary fundamentals of acoustics that allow us to understand and practice this approach in the next chapter.

© Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2019 J. Braasch, Hyper-specializing in Saxophone Using Acoustical Insight and Deep Listening Skills, Current Research in Systematic Musicology 6, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-15046-4_1

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2

1 Introduction

The process described in this book is certainly not the first attempt to modify a wind instrument by using a different tone generator. Adolphe Sax himself was experimenting with different tone generators when developing the saxophone, including brass mouthpieces. In fact, the saxophone is derived from the ophicleide, a bass brass instrument with a keyed fingering system similar to that of the saxophone [129, p. 99]. However, this book is a new attempt to expand the saxophone such that it can be used interchangeably with different tone generators, each of which possesses an individual sonic character profile. The main goals of this book are: 1. the extension of the saxophone with eight sonically distinct tone generators, by grafting these tone generators on the regular saxophone body 2. to develop a teaching method for a player to master each of the mouthpiece variations and 3. to develop a unique voice for each of the instrument variations. Chapter 2 of this book deals with the acoustical fundamentals of the saxophone. We will need this knowledge to extend the saxophone with different tone generators to play it as a flute, a brass instrument, a double reed, and a free-reed instrument and as a variation of a didjeridu. The basic acoustic mechanisms and properties of the resonator and different tone generators are described with a focus on the acoustic coupling of the tone generator to the resonator. The latter insight is needed to design the different mouthpiece variations in a way that the tone generators couple properly to the saxophone resonator acoustically. Only in this way can the instrument be played in tune throughout a sufficiently extended range. Further, it is discussed how the vocal tract can be used to optimize the sound production for each instrument variation to achieve the desired timbre, to extend the instrument’s range, and to play the instrument in tune. The study and training of the vocal tract are often neglected in teaching methods for Western instruments, and one of the goals of this book is to bridge the gap by building on existing knowledge on the vocal tract in the context of speech production and perception. Chapter 3 deals with traditional extended techniques for the saxophone including circular breathing, extending the saxophone into the altissimo range, and using the voice in conjunction with the saxophone. While extensive literature exists on extended techniques for the saxophone, I felt it was important to describe my personal approach. It thought this would be useful for the reader when studying the different mouthpiece variation described in this book. Chapter 4 is dedicated to the method of Deep Listening, which was conceived and developed by composer Pauline Oliveros. The goal of this chapter is twofold. Firstly, I believe that the concept of Deep Listening is a unique method to develop a musical concept for the use of different tone generators. Instead of simply prescribing how to learn to master the expanded instrument, the Deep Listening method provides the reader with an introspective tool to define one’s own goals. The second aim of this chapter is to connect the concept of Deep Listening to traditional auditory research. Pauline’s method it is often overlooked in scientific circles although it can help to develop a modern view of our auditory processes. In many ways, Pauline’s thinking was ahead of the scientific community. In this chapter, I am trying to catch up with

1 Introduction

3

her by studying the inherent links between her concepts and scientific approaches including auditory scene analysis and sound quality assessment. The chapter concludes with a new definition of a virtuoso musician as someone who can adapt to nearly every musical situation rather than someone who has perfected technical skills on her instrument. Expanding the saxophone with a variety of tone generators will be one of the means to achieve this goal, but I have tried to keep the chapter selfcontained enough so that it will also be useful for readers who are not interested in expanding a wind instrument with new tone generators. Chapter 5 deals with building and learning each instrument variation. It contains dedicated sections on playing the saxophone as a rim flute, didjeridu, double- or free-reed instrument, sarrusophone, or cornett. The chapter begins with a general introduction to grafting wind instruments. It focuses on a historical discourse on previous attempts to fit existing wind instruments with new tone generators, such as Eddie Harris’ proposal to use the trumpet with a saxophone mouthpiece, and the use of a bassoon reed with the trombone in the classical avant-garde. The individual mouthpiece variations I conceived for the soprano saxophone are described in dedicated sections. Each section starts with a historical and cultural introduction to the archetype that served as a prototype and ancestral voice of this particular mouthpiece variation. Each instrument section also includes a description of how to build the mouthpiece variation, a few exercises, and characteristic musical examples. If necessary, the description also includes a fingering chart indicating how to play the saxophone in tune with a particular tone generator. The musical examples are often taken from the cultural context of the archetype instrument. A brief history of the regular saxophone is also included to provide a context for the other instruments that were folded into the newly grafted saxophones. Chapter 6 introduces the idea of internal diversity on a wind instrument. Cultural and intellectual diversity has been discussed, endorsed, and celebrated in the avantgarde and elsewhere. Yet current teaching methods for wind instruments still center around the 19th-century conservatory tradition, where technical proficiency is in the foreground. In traditional jazz, teaching methods are often geared towards developing a monolithic sound to make the performer easily identifiable among competitors. We will challenge this by providing an alternative concept of a diversified personal style. Using this concept, the performer seeks to develop a distinct role or character profile for each instrument variation instead of focusing on a single, specific sonic identity. The concept of grafting different mouthpieces on the saxophone benefits from the Western musical instrument classification system that was proposed by Erich M. von Hornbostel and Curt Sachs [128]. In this system, the type of tone generator serves as the main classification criterion. The process of grafting mouthpieces extends the saxophone to encompass nearly every wind instrument family according to von Hornbostel and Sachs’ definition. This way, the player diversifies internally and learns to adapt to several instrument traditions that were established for single reeds, double reeds, free reeds, flutes, and brass instruments. By our common definition, the performer becomes an integral part of these traditions rather than drawing from them from an outside perspective. This is an essential aspect of the grafting concept for musical instruments. When played with a cornett mouthpiece, the saxophone is

4

1 Introduction

as much a brass instrument as the trumpet, both spanning from an earlier line of brass instruments that most likely started with the natural animal horn. In Chap. 6, it will also be discussed how the distinct sonic characters can be employed appropriately in different musical contexts. Strategies will be described for establishing a unique sonic territory for each instrument variation. Chapter 7 provides a basic discussion of how to best record a soprano saxophone with different tone generators. Recordings taken at different microphone positions are subjected to spectral analysis, leading to a microphone-placement discussion for best capturing the individual character of each instrument variation. The book concludes with an epilogue in Chap. 8. The chapter provides a brief outlook on future developments, including the revolver sax adapter, which allows for the rapid exchange of tone generators by arranging them on a rotatable platform.

Chapter 2

Acoustics of the Saxophone

2.1 Introduction In this chapter, an overview of wind-instrument acoustics is provided as a theoretical foundation to design, build, and use grafted wind instruments. The generic wind instrument is described by a tone generator that is coupled to two adjacent resonators, the instrument’s body and the performer’s vocal tract. As a starting point, the acoustical behavior of a simple cylindrical resonator is examined, and the acoustical consequences of finger holes are discussed. The investigation continues with the introduction of the conical resonator, which describes the acoustical behavior of the saxophone body adequately but is acoustically more complex than the cylindrical resonator. In the following section, common tone generators for wind instruments are introduced and classified. The section includes a description of the acoustical behavior for the single reed, double reed, free reed, flute, and lip-valve instrument mechanisms. Afterward, the coupling between a tone generator and a resonator is addressed, which can only be described as a non-linear system. The chapter concludes with a description of the acoustical behavior of the adaptable vocal tract. Its acoustical importance is often underestimated when dealing with wind instruments.

2.2 The Resonator 2.2.1 The Cylindrical Resonator The easiest instrument to begin analyzing is the clarinet because its cylindrical resonator is simpler to explain acoustically than a conical resonator. The clarinet reed acts as an acoustical valve that is mounted to one end of its cylindrical resonator as shown in Fig. 2.1. The reed valve passes air periodically through the cylinder creating a pressure wave. Let us assume all finger holes are closed, so the pressure wave travels © Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2019 J. Braasch, Hyper-specializing in Saxophone Using Acoustical Insight and Deep Listening Skills, Current Research in Systematic Musicology 6, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-15046-4_2

5

6

2 Acoustics of the Saxophone

to the other end of the resonator. There, the pressure wave experiences what we call an impedance mismatch. Impedance is a physical term that describes the resistance of an object, such as a pressure wave, moving through a medium.1 It is well known that an object hitting a medium with a higher resistance, for example, a ball hitting on the floor, bounces back. A sound pressure wave behaves the same way, and when a wave hits a wall, it experiences a wall reflection because of the abrupt increase in resistance. What is important to note in this context is that a pressure wave is not only reflected when hitting a hard wall but whenever there is a mismatch such as occurs at acoustic boundaries or at the intersection between two different propagation media. This condition is called the impedance mismatch because it obstructs the undisturbed wave propagation. Although the medium within the clarinet resonator is the same air found outside of it, the constraints imposed by the resonator walls cause a higher impedance or resistance inside the clarinet. Within the resonator, the pressure wave cannot expand three-dimensionally as the friction of the air molecules along the resonator walls increases the resistance. Therefore, the sound pressure wave is confined to a onedimensional movement along the length of the resonator until is reaches the open end. At the latter, the sound wave can now expand directly into the three-dimensional open space, causing a reduction in resistance. It is important to note, and counter intuitive to many non-acousticians, that also a reduction in resistance can lead to reflections. As a consequence, part of the pressure wave is reflected at the resonator end, while the remaining pressure wave continues to propagate into the free field (here used as a technical term for open air), where it can be heard by the audience. The part of the sound pressure wave that propagates back combines with the next pressure wave that is released by the reed valve in a periodic manner. We can mathematically determine the resulting sound pressure at any time and any point along the resonator by taking the sum of the outgoing and reflected sound pressure waves. This results in a standing wave, where we cannot observe the superposed wave travel in any direction. Instead, we only see the local amplitudes moving up and down. This concept applies to other instrument types as well, for example, to the vibrating guitar string. It is easy to see that the string can only vibrate in the middle because it is fixed at both ends at the bridge and the saddle. Continuing our thought experiment, we can also determine how the pressure wave is formed in the clarinet. At the open end, sound pressure cannot build up just as we cannot apply pressure to an open door. Therefore, the sound pressure amplitude must always be zero at this end. The reed-valve end, however, is closed, and here a high pressure can build up easily. The longest wave that meets the open/closed end requirements is a quarter wave, e.g., a 1/4 cycle of a sine function that is shown in Fig. 2.1 for the first partial P1 .

1 In

addition, the impedance describes phase relationships between the pressure and velocity of the oscillating air molecules in a sound wave, but phase considerations are beyond the scope of this book.

2.2 The Resonator

7

P5 P4 P3 P2 P1

Fig. 2.1 Cylindrical resonator with a closed end where the reed is located and an open end. The standing wave solutions for sound pressure are shown above the resonator for the partial tones P1 to P5 . All possible solutions (P1 , P3 , and P5 ) are shown as solid lines. The pressure configurations P2 and P4 cannot build up and are shown as dashed curves—see text for details

With the quarter-wavelength information, we can determine the fundamental frequency of the clarinet. The required length of the clarinet for a given wavelength is: l=

1 λ0 , 4

(2.1)

with l, the length of the instrument and λ0 , the wavelength of the fundamental frequency we wish to produce. If we know the speed of sound, cs , we can determine the relationship between the wavelength and the fundamental frequency using the following equation: f0 =

cs 1 = , T λ0

(2.2)

with f 0 , the fundamental frequency of the instrument’s resonator and λ0 , the corresponding wavelength. The variable T is the period of one oscillation cycle. Now, we can substitute λ0 with the length of the instrument l using Eq. 2.1: f0 =

cs . 4·l

(2.3)

Given that the length of a clarinet is about 60 cm or 0.6 m and the speed of sound at 20 ◦ C room temperature is cs = 343.3 m/s, we can calculate the fundamental frequency of a clarinet: f0 =

343.3 = 143.0417 Hz. 4 · 0.6

(2.4)

8

2 Acoustics of the Saxophone

Now, every wind instrument has a characteristic overtone series consisting of integer multiples, n, of the fundamental frequency f 0 : fn = n · f0 = n ·

cs . λ0

(2.5)

The octave corresponds to half the wavelength—see Fig. 2.1, P2 . If the half-wave meets the requirements of the closed end, the wave would have a pressure maximum at both the closed and the open end, but the latter cannot exist. If it met the criteria of the open end, the half-wave would also need to have a pressure minimum at the closed end but this boundary condition can neither be met.2 Consequently, an octave overtone does not exist in the clarinet, and the non-existing partial wave, P2 , is therefore plotted using dashed lines in Fig. 2.1. The next overtone, P3 , is the twelfth, or the fifth above the octave, resembling a 3/4 wavelength. This partial tone can be fit to meet the close/open end requirements, by choosing a pressure maximum at the close-end position—see P3 depicted in Fig. 2.1. In a similar manner, we can verify the existence of the pressure waves for all other odd partial tones only. These are the modes P1 , P3 , and P5 shown in Fig. 2.1 as solid curves. We can also determine that the pressure wave cannot develop for all even partial tones because the boundary conditions for the open/closed ends cannot be met—see P2 and P4 depicted in Fig. 2.1 as dashed curves. The missing even partial tones give the cylindrical clarinet its characteristic sound. It should be noted that we could also have conducted our thought experiment using a velocity wave by considering the velocity of the oscillating air molecules. In this case, the boundary conditions are opposite to those of a pressure wave: at the closed end the velocity needs to have a minimum because the air particles cannot move against a hard object, while the velocity wave needs to have a maximum at the open end, because the resistance is the lowest at this point. For simplicity, we will continue to focus on the pressure wave for the remainder of this section. Now, let us expand our theory by examining the case of a cylindrical flute. The sound of a flute is generated by a performer blowing an air stream that hits an edge. This edge causes a jet stream by dividing the incoming air into two separate streams. This creates an audible, noise-like air turbulence. The resonator filters out a harmonic spectrum from this noise that shapes the harmonic flute sound. Unlike the clarinet, where the reed acts as a valve at the closed end, the flute is open at both resonator ends, as shown in Fig. 2.2. This circumstantial change fundamentally affects the flute’s acoustical properties. Firstly, the quarter wave can no longer develop, and instead, the half-wave, which could not develop for the open/closed end clarinet, is the lowest mode, depicted as P1 in Fig. 2.2. Since the ends are open on both sides, the pressure at the ends will have to be at a minimum, so Eq. 2.1 needs to be adjusted to:

2 For a standing wave, a pressure minimum would automatically require a velocity maximum at the

same location. However particles cannot move at the closed end, and therefore this mode cannot build up.

2.2 The Resonator

9

P5 P4 P3 P2 P1

Fig. 2.2 Cylindrical resonator with two open ends. The standing wave solutions for sound pressure are shown above the resonator for the partial tones P1 –P5

l=

1 λ0 , 2

(2.6)

f0 =

cs . 2·l

(2.7)

and Eq. 2.3 needs to be changed to:

If we use the same values for the length of the instrument, 60 cm, and the speed of sound, we will find that the flute has twice the fundamental frequency of the clarinet: f0 =

343.3 = 286.0833 Hz. 2 · 0.6

(2.8)

Now, let us focus on the overtone spectrum of a flute. The next wave that can develop is a full wave, which will be an octave above the half-wave fundamental. All other standing waves with integer multiples n can develop as well—see Fig. 2.2, P1 –P5 . Two major things can be learned from the cylindrical-resonator analysis. Firstly, it explains why the spectrum of the flute has even and odd partial tones, while the clarinet’s only has odd partial tones. Secondly, the model explains why a flute with the same resonator length as a clarinet has its lowest frequency an octave above the clarinet’s. This explains why the lowest note of an orchestral transverse flute is much higher than the lowest note of a clarinet, even though both instruments are similar in length. If a clarinet mouthpiece is replaced with a tone edge of a flute, the lowest tone should sound an octave above the lowest note of the original clarinet sound because the flute mouthpiece introduces a second opening at the other end of the clarinet. Finger holes and keys are the primary mechanisms for woodwind instruments to adjust pitch and play melodies. In principle, the sound travels to the first open finger hole before it is reflected, and the distance between the tip of the mouthpiece and the

10

2 Acoustics of the Saxophone I

II

III

IV

V

VI

VII

VIII

Fig. 2.3 Cylindrical resonator with keyholes and one closed end. The different pressure wave modes, I to VIII, for the different key combinations are shown above the resonator. All finger holes are closed for Mode I, while all other modes are defined by the highest open tone hole—the tone hole closest to the closed end. Pressure waves are shown for the fundamental tones. Higher harmonics are not depicted

first open finger or keyhole determines the fundamental frequency of the instrument, as shown in Fig. 2.3. However, in practice, the matter is often more complicated than this because cross fingerings can be applied as well. For example, we can play the note F4 on the saxophone by adding the E key to the combination for the tone G4 while leaving the F key open. The diameter of the finger hole changes both intonation and the timbral quality. Finding the best dimensions and locations for finger holes is one of the challenges of a professional instrument builder. Keys are used to replacing finger holes in cases (i) where the hole should be closed by default, (ii) the hole does not line up with the position of the corresponding finger, or (iii) the hole is designed to be larger than could be covered by a finger. Large holes typically enable a louder sound, and they also help to maintain the timbral balance of the instrument. The saxophone has keys because the wide bore requires wide holes, and the Boehm flute received keys to becoming louder by increasing the diameter of the tone holes. However, both instruments could also be primarily built with finger holes, as the baroque flute and the Hungarian tarogato demonstrate.

2.2 The Resonator

11

2.2.2 The Conical Resonator The acoustical behavior of a conical resonator differs fundamentally from that of a cylindrical resonator. Since the conical resonator gradually widens, one can no longer assume that the sound wave is only reflected at the open end. Instead, the impedance in the resonator changes continuously and thus part of the propagating wave is reflected back at each continuous step along the conical resonator. To better understand this, one can approximate the conical resonator as a system of connected cylindrical resonators that become wider toward the open end. At each intersection, the cylinder becomes slightly broader and less resistant. Of course, there is still more resistance than would be the case for the free field at the end of a cylinder, but the change in resistance is large enough to reflect part of the wave backward, while the remaining wave continues to travel forward. This affects the positions of the sound pressure minima, called nodes, as discussed in the next paragraph. Figure 2.4 shows the pressure waves for a conical resonator. The wave functions for the first five partial tones, P1 to P5 , are shown above the schematic for the conical resonator with a closed/open end configuration. Due to the continuous partial reflection along the resonator, the pressure waves are distorted, and the pressure nodes are no longer spaced equidistantly. Given the correct aperture angle, the opening angle of the cone, the second harmonic can now develop at the octave in contrast to the cylindrical clarinet, where the second harmonic develops at an interval of a twelfth, sounding as a fifth above the octave—see P2 shown in Fig. 2.4. The pressure wave for the second harmonic, P2 , has a maximum at the closed end and a minimum at the open end, meeting the oscillation requirements for an open/closed resonator type. The effect of the gradual reflection is three-fold. Firstly, the effective resonator length is shorter, because the sound is not only reflected at the open end, as was the

P5 P4 P3 P2 P1

Fig. 2.4 Conical Resonator with a closed end where the reed is located and an open end. The standing wave solutions for sound pressure are shown above the resonator for the partial tones P1 to P5

12

2 Acoustics of the Saxophone

case for the cylindrical resonators but along the entire length. The effective length becomes shorter with increasing aperture angle. This is why the lowest fundamental frequency of a B clarinet is much lower than that of a soprano saxophone, although the resonators of both instruments are comparable in length. Secondly, the gradually opening resonator also affects the positions of the pressure nodes and anti-nodes inside the resonator. When the instrument is overblown to sound in the higher register, the second pressure node is no longer in the center of the resonator but closer to its closed end. The position of the internal pressure node determines the musical interval at which the instrument overblows. The position of the pressure node moves closer to the closed end with increasing aperture angle reducing the musical interval at which the instrument overblows. For orchestral instruments, the aperture angle is generally chosen such that the instrument overblows in a perfect octave. Thirdly, we often find for conical resonators that the second, third, or fourth partial tone has the highest amplitude, whereas the fundamental partial tone typically dominates for the cylindrical clarinet. For both resonator types, we find that the overtone spectrum becomes darker when the bore is widened. The trumpet is a special case because it is flared at the open end. Intuitively, one might wonder why the second tone of the harmonic series of the trumpet is the octave and not the twelfth, even though the bore of the instrument is mainly cylindrical. In contrast to the clarinet, a flare at the end of a trumpet gradually widens the resonator before terminating in the bell. The geometry of the flare is chosen to give the mainly cylindrical trumpet a harmonic series similar to the conical resonator.

2.3 The Tone Generator 2.3.1 General Mechanisms The tone generator is the soul of the Western wind instrument. Its physical properties are used as the main criteria in the standard musical-instrument classification system devised by Erich M. von Hornbostel and Curt Sachs [128]. The three main categories for woodwind instruments are flutes, single reed, and double reed instruments, while the brass family of instruments solely uses lip vibration to generate sounds. Contrary to what the name “brass” suggests, the material of the instrument does not play a direct role in the classification because the latter is based on the functions of the instrument. According to von Hornbostel and Sachs, a clarinet made from ABS plastic will be categorized in the same way as the traditional wood clarinet because it functions the same way. In the traditional Chinese classification system [56], where the instruments are classified according to the materials they are made from, both clarinets would belong to two different groups if a group for plastic materials existed. In the Chinese system, the sheng and the bawu, both free-reed instruments, are classified into two different primary groups because the early sheng was made from a gourd and the bawu is made from bamboo.

2.3 The Tone Generator

13

(a)

(b)

(c)

(d)

(e)

(f)

(g)

(h)

cup

throat

(i)

(j)

Fig. 2.5 Tone generator examples: Rim flute (a), recorder (b), single reed (c, reed open; d, reed closed), double reed (e, reed open; f, reed closed), Western brass (g, lips open; h, lips closed), didjeridu (i, lips open; j, lips closed)

Figure 2.5 shows the main tone-generator types of wind instruments. The rim flute is the oldest known type of wind instrument—see Fig. 2.5a. Here the tone is created by blowing air through the mouth and focusing it on the edge of a resonator to form an air jet. As mentioned before, the jet stream creates a turbulence when the edge obstructs it. This evokes a noise-type signal with a continuous frequency spectrum. The noise signal is transformed into a tonal signal because the resonator enhances the acoustic energy at the resonance frequencies while suppressing all other frequencies, as discussed in the last section. The resonator does not have to be cylindrical or conical, and a flute-like sound can be produced by blowing the edge of bottles and other objects of various shapes. By varying the blowing pressure—the embouchure and by using octave keys—a flute can be played in different registers. In this way, some flutes can cover a range of three or more octaves.

14

2 Acoustics of the Saxophone

For most flutes including the Western transverse flute, the Turkish ney, the Japanese shakuhachi, and the Native American Hopi rim flute, the performer has to learn to form a focused air stream through the embouchure, and she has to practice aiming this stream toward the edge. The earliest known instrument, a 40,000-yearold flute made from a vulture bone, is a typical rim flute [60]. The shakuhachi differs a bit from this concept. Its design includes an edge with a sharp angle. The Western transverse flute is also a rim-flute variation because it has a hole with an edge attached to its side. Since it is not easy for a novice flute player to learn how to form a jet stream, instrument builders have developed mechanisms to automatically guide the jet stream using a duct system as shown in Fig. 2.5b. The European recorder and many forms of Native American flutes use such a mechanism. Since the duct takes care of the embouchure, recorders are among the easiest entry-level instruments to learn. However, the fixed duct system also restricts tone shaping and intonation correction. For this instrument, corrections can only be accomplished by varying the wind pressure and actively adjusting the vocal tract, which makes the recorder quite a difficult instrument to handle at a professional level. It is noteworthy that the recorder typically uses an inverted conical resonator that is wider at the duct end and narrower at the resonator outlet. The single-reed mechanism is found in the clarinet and the saxophone. Here, a reed—typically made from cane—is mounted on a frame. The reed acts as a valve to control the periodic airflow into the instrument to generate a tone—see Fig. 2.5c, d. The reed is driven by the pressure difference on both sides of the reed. By blowing into the instrument, the additional air pressure briefly opens the reed valve to create a pressure impulse that travels along the resonator. This impulse is then partly reflected at the end of the resonator. Once it entirely travels back, it helps to push the reed valve back open, so another pressure impulse is released. If the acoustic setting is right, the reed/resonator interaction becomes repetitive and forms a periodic sound pressure cycle. The reed acts as a so-called harmonic oscillator. The stiffness of the reed acts like a spring that pushes the reed back into its equilibrium position when it is deflected. The reed also has a mass that keeps the reed in motion to resist external forces, for example, the increasing spring tension caused by the stiffness of the reed. At a certain point, the spring force of the deflected reed becomes so large that it first stops the movement of the reed and then forces the reed to move in the opposite direction to reduce the spring tension. While moving in the opposite direction, the mass-loaded reed tip picks up speed and builds up kinetic energy again. This way, the reed tip keeps moving periodically over the point of equilibrium until it is stopped because the system loses energy due to friction. These oscillations can be heard when plucking the reed. Since the reed is a damped mechanism, the oscillations will come to an end quickly after the reed has been plucked. When blown, the reed is supplied with new energy from the air pressure at every cycle. The force that the pressure exerts on the reed depends on the surface area of the reed. By changing the lip pressure and lip position of the reed, the player can change the physically effective properties of the reed in terms of mass and stiffness to control the tone in general and the pitch

2.3 The Tone Generator

15

inward striking boot

free reed

shallot

outward striking resonator

boot

shallot

resonator

reed reed

frame

frame x0

x0

boot

shallot

striking reed

resonator

shallot

boot

resonator

reed frame

reed x0

frame x0

Fig. 2.6 Functional schematic of the four primary reed generators using combinations of inward and outward oscillating mechanisms (left and right columns) and free- and striking-reed generators (top and bottom rows). The lips of a brass player act like a striking reed

in particular. One of the simplest single reed mechanisms can be found in bagpipes. Its drone pipes’ frame and reed are made from the same piece of hollow cane. The top of the cane is separated from the central part at three sides through three single straight cuts. These cuts form a reed that is still connected to the cane body on one side. The single reed can also be built as a so-called free reed, where the reed is designed to be smaller than the frame opening so it can swing freely through it—see Fig. 2.6, top row. This gives the reed the characteristic sound that we know from the harmonica and the accordion. In Europe, free reeds came into use at the end of the 18th century [3]. In Asia, they were used many centuries earlier. The oldest evidence of a free-reed instrument is a sheng found in the tomb of Marquis Yi that dates back to 430 BC [7, p. 50]. The double reed is found in the oboe and the bassoon. Here, two reeds oscillate against each other—see Fig. 2.5e, f. Other than this, the physical mechanism used to produce a sound is quite similar to the single reed mechanism, and the double reed can be seen as two coupled harmonic oscillators vibrating against each other when driven by the blown air pressure. For orchestral instruments, the double reeds are made from two separate pieces of cane that are connected through thread and wire. The double reeds of other instruments like the Armenian duduk are shaped from a single piece of cane. Two plant leaves oscillating against each other were probably used for the earliest double-reed instruments. In brass instruments, the vibrating lips of the player act as a valve, so an external reed is no longer needed—see Fig. 2.5g, h. The lips can vibrate against each other like a double reed, but in most cases, the embouchure is formed such that the upper lip vibrates on top of the resting lower lip or vice versa. The brass mouthpiece provides support to the lips so only the part of the lip inside the cup can oscillate. The narrow opening to the resonator is called the throat. The narrow gap of the throat provides resistance and the air molecules passing this gap have to increase the airflow velocity so they can all pass. The velocity increase makes it easier for the brass player to produce a tone. The size of the cup helps to shape the timbre of the instrument.

16

2 Acoustics of the Saxophone

A larger cup produces a darker timbre, and a smaller cup a brighter sound. A smaller cup, both in terms of depth and diameter, makes it easier for the brass player to produce high notes. Using the embouchure, the brass player has unique control over the vibrating lips by changing the muscle tension. The stiffness of the lip can be controlled to change the pitch and timbre of the instrument because the lip tension acts like the spring of a harmonic oscillator. The Australian didjeridu is also played in the manner of a brass instrument to produce drone sounds. Its mouthpiece rim is traditionally formed from beeswax. In contrast to Western brass instruments, the rim opens up right into the resonator without using a throat to intermittently narrow the bore—see Fig. 2.5i, j. This construction simplifies the use of vocal sounds on top of the drone sound because the sound of the voice is not held back by the small opening that a throat would provide. Since the didjeridu is mostly used to produce low-frequency drone sounds, the missing throat hardly affects the playability of the instrument. A wind instrument that is operated with a reed or lip valve can be classified as an inward or outward striking mechanism by the way the valve is oriented. Figure 2.6 sketches the inward and outward valve mechanisms for striking and free reeds. The two types of reed mechanisms have different acoustical behavior with practical consequences. For instruments with inward striking mechanisms, the fundamental frequency is typically slightly below the resonator frequency and for outward striking mechanisms, it is usually slightly above the latter. Clarinet and saxophone reeds are inward striking mechanisms because the reeds are balanced inward toward the performer’s throat. From this perspective, they have to be pushed outward to close the valve gap. Similarly, double reeds are inward striking mechanisms. Free reeds can be both inward or outward striking mechanisms. European free reeds are typically inward striking mechanisms because the reed is positioned in front of the frame. The free reed of the Chinese bawu, see Fig. 2.7, is also inward striking because the reed is bent inwards toward the performer’s throat. The reed of a Chinese sheng, however, is outward striking. Since the reed is flat with the frame in its resting position, the positive air pressure between the player’s vocal tract and the resonator pushes the equilibrium of the reed outward when excited. The lips of a brass player form an outward striking mechanism for the same reason.

Fig. 2.7 Bawu reed (top) versus sheng reed (bottom)

2.3 The Tone Generator

17

2.3.2 Acoustical Analysis In order to understand how tone generators affect the sound of the instrument, the frequency spectra of four tone generators are shown in Fig. 2.8 using the same soprano saxophone resonator for the tone B4 (466 Hz). For this analysis, the sound has been recorded approximately 30 cm above and 30 cm in front of the bell, with the microphone pointing at the keys in front of the bell.3 Figure 2.8a shows the spectrum of the natural saxophone. Each spectral line shows the relative sound pressure level of an individual partial tone from P1 to P N , counting left to right, as identified in Fig. 2.4. In each graph of Fig. 2.8, the most energetic partial tone has been calibrated to 0 dB. Characteristic of the saxophone is that the fundamental tone is not the strongest one. In this example, the second harmonic is about 6 dB above the fundamental. The following partial tones are about 10 to 15 dB below the energy of the strongest partial tone, before the energy of the partial tones quickly rolls off above a frequency of 4,000 Hz. In contrast, the same tone performed with a bassoon reed produces a sound with less energy in the higher partial tones, and, here, the fundamental tone is the strongest partial tone. It is about 6 dB above the second strongest partial tone, the second harmonic—see Fig. 2.8b. The following partial tones are all more than 20 dB below the energy of the fundamental tone before the partials quickly roll off above a frequency of 4,000 Hz. Figure 2.8c shows the spectrum of the saxophone played with

(b) Bassoon

0

0

-20

-20

SPL [dB]

SPL [dB]

(a) Saxophone

-40 -60 -80

10 2

10 3 Frequency [Hz]

10 2

10 3 Frequency [Hz]

10 4

10 3 Frequency [Hz]

10 4

(d) Bawu 0

SPL [dB]

0

SPL [dB]

-60 -80

10 4

(c) Cornett -20 -40 -60 -80

-40

-20 -40 -60 -80

10 2

10 3 Frequency [Hz]

10 4

10 2



Fig. 2.8 Frequency spectra for the Tone B4 (466 Hz) of different tone generators played using the same soprano-saxophone resonator 3 The saxophone adaptations to different tone generators will be discussed in great detail in Chap. 5.

18

2 Acoustics of the Saxophone

(a) Saxophone

(b) Flute 0 SPL [dB]

SPL [dB]

0 -20 -40 -60 -80

10 2

10 3 Frequency [Hz]

10 4

10 3 Frequency [Hz]

10 4

-20 -40 -60 -80

10 2

10 3 Frequency [Hz]

10 4

(c) Cornett SPL [dB]

0 -20 -40 -60 -80

10 2



Fig. 2.9 Frequency spectra for the tone B5 (932 Hz) of different tone generators played using the same soprano-saxophone resonator

a cornett mouthpiece.4 To record this example, the embouchure was controlled to produce a harmonic-rich, bell-shaped sound that is usually desired for Western brass instruments. Note that the instrument had to be keyed a semitone below the regular saxophone to produce the same pitch. As mentioned before, the outward striking brass mouthpiece operates best above the resonator frequency. The most energetic partial tone, in this case, is the fourth harmonic and the overtones also quickly roll off above a frequency of 4,000 Hz. The last example in this graph shows the spectrum produced by a bawu free reed on the saxophone—Fig. 2.8d. Similar to the sound of the saxophone, the second partial tone is the strongest one. However, the overall the sound of the bawu contains noticeably less energy in the higher harmonics. For this reason, the sound of the bawu is often compared to the sound of the flute. In the next example, we discuss the harmonic spectra of a higher tone, B5 (932 Hz)—see Fig. 2.9. At this frequency, the fundamental tone of the saxophone becomes the strongest harmonic (Fig. 2.9a). The other harmonics fall 10 to 15 dB below the energy of the fundamental before they quickly roll off above 4,000 kHz. In contrast, when the saxophone is operated as a rim flute by producing a jet stream on the edge of the mouthpiece-less saxophone neck, the fundamental tone is emphasized to a far greater degree (Fig. 2.9b). The energy of the second harmonic is 20 dB below the energy of the fundamental and the third harmonic is down to −30 dB. Above this frequency, the partial tones are virtually non-existent. The saxophone played with 4 The

cornett is a Renaissance brass instrument with a wooden conical resonator, finger holes, and a small brass mouthpiece—see Sect. 5.4 for details.

2.3 The Tone Generator

19

cornett mouthpiece still has a bell-shaped sound (Fig. 2.9c). However, at this high frequency, the instrument produces a smaller number of partial tones than was the case for the tone B4 that was shown in Fig. 2.8c. All tone generators have unique onset characteristics that allow listeners to identify them categorically. The following graphs are taken from organ-pipe measurements for three pipes with the same pitch (F4 ). Since organ pipes are not articulated with the tongue, it is a convenient instrument to study the underlying physical mechanisms. An organ chest with a bellow is ideal for controlling the airflow and helps to avoid any temporal variations of the vocal tract that might occur during the onset phase when measuring with a human performer. Figure 2.10a shows a spectrogram of the flue pipe’s onset phase. The light-gray areas show how the acoustic energy of the pipe builds up over time (x-axis) as a function of frequency (y-axis). In the beginning phase, 10 ms after the key has been pressed, the tone starts with a wide-frequency signal that quickly transforms into a harmonic complex at approximately 25 ms. The initial sound is the noise that is generated by the jet stream when it hits the edge of the labium. This noise, which contains the most energy around the third and fifth partial tones, is quickly transformed into a tonal signal through resonances in the pipe body. The time signal, shown above the spectrogram, also depicts the noise, the so-called chiff that precedes the tonal signal. Organ builders can adjust the level of chiff when tuning a pipe, and a flutist can do the same by controlling his embouchure. Below the spectrogram, the onset frequency contour of the flue pipe is shown, which depicts a descending fundamental frequency drop of about a semitone when the tonal spectrum develops. The average harmonic spectrum is depicted left of the spectrogram, showing that the first three harmonics are the strongest whereas, for higher frequencies, the harmonics contain less energy. Figure 2.10b shows the spectrogram of a striking reed pipe. The striking reed mechanism of an organ pipe is similar to the single reed mechanisms of the clarinet and saxophone. The striking reed pipe starts with an abrupt onset when the reed starts hitting the frame of the shallot. From there, the individual overtones develop quickly. Striking-reed organ pipes are known to develop a rich harmonic spectrum with a fast onset. In this particular case of a Krummhorn pipe, the even partial tones are less developed than the odd partial tones due to the cylindrical resonator of the pipe. A quick ascending fundamental frequency shift that covers a range of 4 semitones over a duration of a few milliseconds can be observed for this striking-reed pipe. In contrast to the striking reed pipe, the onset phase of the free-reed pipe is much longer and also builds up gradually from the bottom to the top—see Fig. 2.11. The free-reed pipe used for the measurement also had a cylindrical resonator, which explains the reduced energy for the even harmonics. An ascending onset pitch shift of a semitone occurs over a duration of approximately 100 ms, which is characteristic of all free-reed instruments. Figure 2.12 shows the results for the same four tone generators coupled to a soprano saxophone body that were already discussed in Fig. 2.8. In contrast to the organ pipe examples, the onset phase of the sound was affected by tongue articulation. In the case of the regular saxophone, Fig. 2.12a, the tone builds up gradually from

20

2 Acoustics of the Saxophone

(a)

(b)

Fig. 2.10 Spectrograms showing the onsets of two organ-pipe mechanisms: flue pipe (a), striking reed pipe (b). The lighter regions show areas of acoustic energy over frequency and time. The temporal sound pressure signal is shown on top of each spectrogram, the average spectrum of the onset phase is shown in the left panel, and the fundamental frequency over time is shown in the bottom panel of each graph. The data was taken from Braasch [35]

2.3 The Tone Generator

21

Fig. 2.11 Same as Fig. 2.10 but for a free-reed organ pipe

the fundamental to the highest partial tone over a time course of about 10 ms. The fundamental frequency rises by about 100 cents over the same time interval of 50 ms. For the bassoon, shown in Fig. 2.12b, a broadening of the partial tones can be seen at the immediate onset. Presumably, this widening is caused by the instantaneous attack that gives the onset an impulse-like, broadband quality. Similar to the regular saxophone case, all partial tones build up gradually from the fundamental to the highest partial tone. However, in this case, the transient phase is shorter and lasts only 5 ms in instead of 10 ms. According to the frequency analysis, the fundamental frequency is ascending during the onset phase by approximately 100 cents over the duration of approximately 75 ms. Note how the bassoon-reed sound widens spectrally during the onset phase, which makes it impossible to track the fundamental frequency from the very beginning. Figure 2.13a shows the onset phase of the saxophone with the cornett mouthpiece. Here the build-up of the individual partial tones occurs even faster than for the saxophone with the bassoon reed, although the build-up still develops successively from the bottom partial tone to the top. A noticeable fundamental frequency descent of greater than 150 cents occurs over a duration of 25 ms. This descent gives the instrument a characteristically brassy sound. The last example depicted in Fig. 2.13b, shows the spectrogram for the saxophone with a bawu mouthpiece. Also, in this case, the partial tones build up from the bottom to the top. This occurs at a slower rate than was the case for the bassoon and cornett mouthpieces. These results are more similar to those of the regular saxophone. The fundamental frequency descends by 50 cents over a duration of 25 ms. Compared to the other three instrument variations, the amplitude of the sound rises much slower, as can be seen in the top panel of the graph that shows the time function of the pressure signal during the onset phase. Figure 2.14 shows two examples for the onset tone of a rim flute to demonstrate the differences between a tone produced in the regular register and an overblown tone.

22

2 Acoustics of the Saxophone

(a)

(b)

Fig. 2.12 Same as Fig. 2.10 but showing the onset behavior of two different tone generators played  using the same soprano-saxophone resonator for the tone B4 (466 Hz)

In both cases, the tones were produced on the edge of a soprano saxophone neck with the mouthpiece being detached. When played in the regular register, top graph, the fundamental tone developed first, and then all the higher harmonics build up together with a delay of approximately 50 ms. During the onset phase, a frequency shift of nearly 100 cents can be observed that lasts about 400 ms before the final fundamental frequency is reached.

2.3 The Tone Generator

23

(a)

(b)

Fig. 2.13 Same as Fig. 2.12 showing the onset behavior of two further tone generators played using  the same soprano-saxophone resonator for the tone B4 (466 Hz)

Also in case of the overblown tone, Fig. 2.14 bottom graph, the higher partial tones appear with a delay of approximately 50 ms after the fundamental tone builds up. However, in contrast to the previous example, the fundamental frequency remains relatively constant during the attack phase. A subharmonic can also be observed at around 660 Hz, which is the octave below the fundamental tone. Given its low

24

2 Acoustics of the Saxophone

(e)

(f)

Fig. 2.14 Same as Fig. 2.12 showing the onset behavior of a flute played on the edge of the neck  using the same soprano-saxophone resonator. The onset curves are shown for the notes G5 (831 Hz, top graph) and E6 (1319 Hz, bottom graph)

magnitude, which is 30 dB below the magnitude of the fundamental, this subharmonic does not determine the perceived pitch of the overall sound. For orchestral instruments, the onset can be characteristically varied by means of tongue articulation and embouchure adjustments. Figure 2.15 shows the onsets for a soft and hard articulated orchestral clarinet. For the soft-articulated clarinet tone, the

2.3 The Tone Generator

25

(a)

(b)

Fig. 2.15 Same as Fig. 2.10 but for an orchestral clarinet articulated with a soft and then hard attack. The data was taken from Braasch [35]

partial tones gradually build up from the bottom to the top as shown in Fig. 2.15a. In this case, a relatively slow, ascending onset pitch shift of approximately one semitone can be observed. Figure 2.15b shows that the onset phase is much shorter for the hard articulated clarinet tone than was the case for the soft articulated clarinet tone. An extreme case of an onset pitch shift can be observed for the Japanese doublereed instrument hichiriki when played by a professional performer, Kenji Takakuwa

26

2 Acoustics of the Saxophone

Fig. 2.16 Same as Fig. 2.10 but for a Japanese hichiriki. The data was taken from Ahrens and Braasch [2]

from Tokyo Geijutsu Deigaku University. Figure 2.16 depicts an ascending frequency shift of more than one semitone that spreads over a duration of 500 ms. The instrument was played without tongue articulation by a Japanese professional performer, which is typical for this instrument in Japanese culture.

2.4 Acoustic Coupling of Tone Generator and Resonator System 2.4.1 General Thoughts Next, we need to understand how the tone generator couples acoustically to the resonator—see the diagram in Fig. 2.17a. This knowledge will become invaluable when we start to modify the saxophone with different tone generators. These modifications will only be successful if the tone generator properly couples with the saxophone resonator. We will use a saxophone reed as the example to explain the general mechanism. At the other end of the tone generator, the vocal tract acts as a second resonator, but we will discuss its effect later. The saxophone resonator acts as a non-linear filter on the tone generator. It not only filters the frequencies that the tone generator produces but also controls the fundamental physical behavior of the tone generator. Through physical coupling, the fundamental frequency of the tone generator follows the fundamental frequency of the resonator as the effective length of the latter is adjusted using finger holes, keys or valves as previously discussed along Fig. 2.3. To understand the fundamentals of this coupling effect, one can investigate the acoustic

2.4 Acoustic Coupling of Tone Generator and Resonator System

27

(a)

(b)

(c)

Fig. 2.17 a: Functional diagram showing how the tone generator is coupled to the resonator of the wind instrument and the vocal tract resonator. The dynamic variation of the diameter along the vocal tract is shown here as a disk model. b: Functional diagram of a free-reed organ-pipe mechanism showing physical parameters used in the physical-model simulation. c: Flow diagram of the iterative processes simulating the acoustics of a free-reed mechanism coupled to a resonator depicting the model structure of a physical model used to simulate a free-reed resonator system— Graphs b and c adapted from Braasch [35]

properties of the resonator in the time domain. Since the tone generator acts as a valve, a pressure wave will be emitted into the resonator when it temporarily opens. This pressure wave will travel along the resonator at the speed of sound until an impedance mismatch occurs as previously discussed in Sect. 2.2.1. This impedance mismatch can either be a conduit to the open sound field such as a finger hole, the end of the resonator, or an obstacle such as the closed end of the resonator. In the open case, such as when the sound pressure wave reaches a finger hole, the resistivity of the airflow is suddenly reduced; in the closed case it is increased, often to infinity. In both cases, the impedance mismatch causes a reflection of the pressure wave. This means at least part of the pressure wave travels back toward the tone generator. The timing when the reflected pressure wave arrives back at the reed is crucial for the operation of the reed/resonator system. If the reed swings away from the frame opening at the moment the reflected pressure wave arrives, the latter will accelerate the reed. In the case in which the reed is moving toward the frame at this moment, the reflected wave will slow the reed down. Since the reed acts as a valve, it controls

28

2 Acoustics of the Saxophone

the timing of the pressure-wave emissions into the resonator. Both the resonator and the reed control each other’s timing. For this reason, changing the effective length of the resonator through fingering adjusts the fundamental frequency of the reed. This allows the performer to play scales and melodies. In contrast, a linear filter would not alter the fundamental frequency of a tone generator. Take the tone control of a home or car stereo, for example. Here we can emphasize or deemphasize low or high frequencies, but we would be astonished if the tone control would fundamentally change the program material. Imagine if the tone control actually detuned the voice of an opera singer. For a musical instrument to work correctly, the coupling between the tone generator and the resonator needs to be sufficiently non-linear and tight. If both elements are not sufficiently coupled, the tone generator will not follow the resonance frequency of the resonator, and the instrument cannot be played using the fingering system. A lack of coupling between the tone generator and resonator can depend on many factors. If a reed is too small, it might continue to oscillate at its own frequency rather than following the resonator frequency. This can be observed if a small reed is mounted to a wide resonator. This is the case for a number of reed stops in the pipe organ. Here the resonator is used to guide the sound, but does not effect the pipe’s tuning. It has also been suggested that the cornett player’s lips do not automatically follow the resonator fingerings on this instrument. Since the bore of the trumpet is much narrower than that of a cornett, the lips will follow the resonator adjustments much better than is the case for the cornett. Benade [16] argues that in general modern wind instruments were designed in such a way that the tone generators would follow the fingerings much better, for example, by improving the coupling between the resonator and tone generator. However, it should be pointed out that the vocal tract can be used to compensate for some of these problems. For example, narrowing the vocal tract can substitute for a narrow resonator to improve the coupling between the cornett resonator and the player’s lips. This is discussed further in the next section.

2.4.2 Physical Coupled Reed/Resonator Model We will now discuss the acoustic behavior of a coupled reed/resonator system using a time-based simulation model that was introduced by Braasch [35]. This section might be of interest to the mathematically inclined reader to better understand the conditions under which the oscillating reed couples to the resonator frequency. The physical model is based on a non-linear, iterative approach in the time domain. To simulate the coupling between the reed (or another tone generator) and the resonator, it is essential to simulate the reed as an oscillator with its own resonance frequency. Approaches that simply simulate the reed as a valve, where the resonance frequency of the coupled system will always follow the frequency of the resonator, e.g., Schumacher [244], will not work to examine the coupling between the reed and resonator in sufficient detail. In the following example, which is based on model studies by Braasch and Schmidt [41] and Braasch [35], we will study the coupling between an inward-moving free reed and a resonator.

2.4 Acoustic Coupling of Tone Generator and Resonator System

29

The free reed is chosen over a striking reed because it can be easily simulated as a harmonic oscillator. Theoretically, the free reed can be easily transformed into a striking reed by mathematically restricting the movement of the reed to one side, but in practice, the striking reed’s rolling mechanism is significantly more complex than this [220]. Readers who are interested in the simulation of an outward striking free reed with a cylindrical resonator are referred to Hikichi et al. [127]. The free reed is simulated using a method developed by Tarnopolsky et al. [261]— originally to simulate an outward striking free reed. The resonator was implemented using a wave-guide method by Smith III [248]. Figure 2.17b+c shows the basic structure of the physical model, the parameters and their interactions. The parameters are defined as follows: x p F q q0 A pi pa pL

: reed displacement : pressure difference pi – pa : reed force : airflow : airflow into boot : opening area of reed : boot/reservoir air pressure : resonator air pressure : radiated sound pressure

HU p : airflow/pressure transfer function Hx A : reed-displacement/opening area transfer function H pF : pressure/force transfer function : digital waveguide transfer function R0 : bottom resonator reflectance R L : top resonator reflectance z −m : waveguide delay

The temporal displacement of the reed, x, is simulated using a mechanical harmonic oscillator based on a damped mass-spring system. The pressure difference, p , between the air reservoir, pi , and the resonator, pa , enacts a force, F, on the reed according to Bernoulli’s law. At the same time, the reed regulates the airflow, q, into the resonator via the changing opening between the reed and the frame, A. The varying reservoir pressure, pi , depends on its volume. The resonator pressure, pa , is affected by the acoustic properties of the resonator. To run the model, the following three main equations have to be solved iteratively in discrete steps for the harmonic reed oscillator, Eq. 2.9; the sound pressure changes, Eq. 2.10; and the airflow, Eq. 2.11:

m

d2x mω0 d x + mω02 x = 1.5W L( pi − pa ), + dt 2 Q dt ρc2 dpi = (q0 − q), dt V  2( pi − pa ) C A, q= ρ

(2.9) (2.10) (2.11)

with the mass of the reed, m, the reed displacement, x, the volume of the boot, V , the quality factor of the reed, Q, the reed length, L, the reed width, W , the reed material density, ρ, the speed of sound, c, and the resonance frequency of the reed, ω0 . The

30

2 Acoustics of the Saxophone

reed opening area A is solved according to Eqs. 2 and 5 of the paper by Tarnopolsky et al. [261]. The parameter’s of the model were adjusted to these values: : 264 Hz reed resonance frequency, f 0 Quality factor of the reed (Q-factor), Q : 50 reed width, W : 6.6 mm reed length L : 22.4 mm reed thickness : 1.5 mm reed material : brass (ρ = 8580 kg/m3 ) : 0.005 m3 /s airflow into the boot, q0 boot volume, V : 0.3 L The temporal behavior of the resonator is simulated as a chain of unitary elements with delay lines, z −m , each of which simulates the propagation of the sound with the speed of sound cs —see Fig. 2.17c. The number of delay lines depends on the length of the resonator, the speed of sound, and the sampling frequency used in the simulation. Forward and backward propagation delay lines were implemented using the digital waveguide model of the resonator. The fluctuating pressure can be calculated at every point of the resonator by adding the pressures of the forward and backward propagating elements at the corresponding location. Air pressure losses in the resonator through damping are summed at the beginning or end of the delay line chain. Different resonator types can be simulated by adjusting the reflectance at both ends of the resonator. The method by Levine and Schwinger [157] was used to simulate the reflectance at the open pipe end. The simulated resonator spectra, shown in Fig. 2.18, were computed using the waveguide model. The simulation shows that a narrow cylindrical resonator has a richer overtone spectrum than a wider one—compare Fig. 2.18a, b. The simulation also demonstrates that a conical resonator has a higher fundamental frequency compared with a cylindrical resonator of the same length—see Fig. 2.18b, c. Figure 2.19 shows the simulation results for the coupled free-reed/resonator system. The y-axis of each graph depicts the fundamental frequency of the coupled reed/resonator system as a function of the resonator length, which is shown on the x-axis. In the top graph, the cylindrical resonator has a narrow diameter, and the frequency of the reed adjusts to the resonator length variations. In this example, the reed will not self-oscillate for resonator lengths below 40 cm. Above this length, the resonator frequency of the reed is lowered when the resonator length is extended. At a resonator length of 70 cm, the reed frequency jumps to the second partial tone of the resonator spectrum. It continues to couple to this partial tone, and the oscillating frequency drops with the resonance frequency of this partial tone as the resonator is further lengthened. In the second example, shown in the bottom graph of Fig. 2.19, a wide resonator was used for the simulation. In this case, the oscillation frequency of the reed is hardly affected by the resonator length, and the reed continues to oscillate at its own resonance frequency. The consequences of this example can also be observed in practice. The reason that the oboe has a much narrow bore than the clarinet is a result of the double reed

2.4 Acoustic Coupling of Tone Generator and Resonator System

(a)

(b) 0

Amplitude [dB]

0

Amplitude [dB]

31

−10 −20 −30 −40

−20 −30 −40 −50

−50 −60

−10

4

3

2

−60

4

3

2

10

10

10

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10

10

Frequency [Hz]

Frequency [Hz]

(c) Amplitude [dB]

0 −10 −20 −30 −40 −50 −60

4

3

2

10

10

10

Frequency [Hz]

Fig. 2.18 Examples of simulated frequency responses for different resonators with the same lengths (60 cm). The top left graph, a, shows the frequency spectrum for a narrow cylindrical resonator (2cm bore diameter), the top right graph, b, shows the frequency spectrum for a wider cylindrical resonator (6-cm), and the bottom left graph, c, shows the frequency response for a conical resonator (1 and 5-cm bore diameters at each end)

Frequency [Hz]

(a) 380 360 340 320 0.3

0.4

0.5

0.4

0.5

0.6

0.7

0.8

0.9

1

0.6

0.7

0.8

0.9

1

Frequency [Hz]

(b) 380 360 340 320 0.3

Resonator Length [m]

Fig. 2.19 Simulation examples of a free reed coupled to cylindrical resonators with different lengths. The top figure shows the result for a narrow resonator where the fundamental frequency couples to the length of the resonator. The bottom graph shows the same simulation but for a wide resonator that hardly affects the oscillation frequency of the reed

32

2 Acoustics of the Saxophone

better coupling to the instrument. Speaking from personal experience, when I started to use my soprano saxophone with a double reed, I first began to test it with an oboe reed because the frequency range of an oboe roughly matches the range of a soprano saxophone. However, I soon realized that the oboe reed was too small to couple to the saxophone bore. The only workable solution was to use a larger double reed from the bassoon, and in this case, the reed couples well to the soprano saxophone as was shown in Sect. 2.3.2. Performing the soprano saxophone with a brass mouthpiece can be challenging because the bore of a saxophone is much wider than that of a modern cornet or trumpet. Here the problem can be solved through practice. By adjusting the vocal tract to a small opening, either in the back or in the front of the mouth, the coupling can be improved by restricting the opening for the airflow, thus enlarging the flow velocity. The next section, which focuses on controlling the vocal tract, discusses this effect in detail.

2.5 The Role of the Vocal Tract The systematic formation of the vocal tract is often neglected in the discussion of wind instrument performance even though it is a crucial part of mastering the instrument. Since no systematic approach exists for learning the vocal-tract adjustments during a wind instrument performance, the necessary knowledge is borrowed from the field of speech communication. This approach benefits from the fact that the formation of the vocal tract to produce speech sounds has been studied in great detail. The knowledge established in speech communication can be easily applied to wind instruments, and the association of vocal-tract configuration to vowels and consonants can help the learner to find the optimal vocal-tract patterns for wind instrument performance. The understanding of the vocal-tract mechanism is especially important for those readers who wish to adapt their instruments to different tone generators. Each adaptation requires individual vocal-tract formations to meet the following goals: • to provide the instrument with the preferred timbre • to help couple the tone generator to the resonator throughout the whole range of the instrument • to help intonate the instrument • to reach the high or low register.

2.5.1 Shaping the Instrument’s Timbre The vocal tract is fundamentally different in function from the resonator of a typical wind instrument. It can only be adjusted in diameter but not in length, whereas the wind instrument resonator can only be adjusted in length but not in diameter. Von Kempelen’s speaking machine, a speech synthesizer based on an organ pipe

2.5 The Role of the Vocal Tract

33

Fig. 2.20 Cross section of the vocal tract

nasal cavity

oral cavity tongue

lip

lip

mechanism, is one of the few exceptions of a mechanical resonator that can be adjusted in diameter rather than length [146]. Using a combination of vocal-tract and wind-instrument resonance, the player can adjust both the length and the diameter to play a musical wind instrument effectively. Everybody who speaks a language is a master of controlling the different formations of the vocal tract, and it makes sense to apply this expertise strategically to the performance of a wind instrument. Figure 2.20 shows a cross-section of the speech production system. The vocal tract consists of the larynx, the pharynx, and the oral and nasal cavities. The whole vocal tract, measured between the larynx and the mouth opening, is about 17 cm long for an average adult. The larynx, also called the voice box, is the air reservoir around the vocal cords. At the lower end, it connects to the lungs and at the upper end, it leads into the pharynx, the air reservoir between the larynx and the oral cavity. The division of the latter is marked by the epiglottis, a cartilaginous flap at the back end of the tongue. The epiglottis is used to close the windpipe while swallowing. It is used for speech production only in very few non-Western languages. The oral cavity allows the highest degree of variation for speech production using the tongue and lips. It reaches from the epiglottis to the lips. The nasal cavity can be opened and closed using the uvula, a muscular tissue which is part of the soft palate. With the nasal cavity closed, the vocal tract can be represented through a disk model, with tubular disk elements of varying diameters—see Fig. 2.17a. With the opened nasal passage, the vocal tract can be modeled using a disk model with a diverted second resonator for the nasal passage.

34

2 Acoustics of the Saxophone

Since the length of the vocal tract is fixed, it will always produce the same fundamental frequency with a number of harmonics similar to the ones shown in Fig. 2.18. However, unlike the resonator for wind instruments, which is always fixed in diameter, one can change the emphasis for different frequency regions by adjusting the diameter of the vocal tract along its axis. A formant is an energy-enhanced frequency region produced by variations of the vocal tract. Children learn intuitively to control two separate formant regions, labeled F1 and F2. Through the combined frequency locations of these two formants, we can identify the different vowel sounds reliably. Formant F1 is primarily formed by the height of the tongue elevation, and Formant F2 is mostly shaped by the front-back location of the tongue elevation. Figure 2.21 shows the so-called vowel quadrilateral which was first introduced by Jones [138, p. XX and frontispiece]. Here, the frequency location of the first formant is shown on the y-axis, and the location of the second formant is shown on the x-axis. In the English language, the positions of the formants span a trapezoid, the quadrilateral. The four insets in Fig. 2.21 show idealized vowel spectra—each based on two specific formants. Figure 2.22 shows the tongue configurations of the vocal tract for the five main vowels of the English language.

Fig. 2.21 Vowel Quadrilateral showing the first and second formant frequencies of pronounced vowels. The insets show the idealized spectra of four different vowels with their characteristic formant regions

2.5 The Role of the Vocal Tract

35

a (FATHER)

e (HATE)

o (OBEY)

u (BOOT)

i (EVE)

Fig. 2.22 Cross sections of the vocal tract showing the tongue and lower chin formations for the five main vowels of the English language. The graphs were adapted from simulation results by Potter et al. [221]

Shaping the vocal tract to different vowels while playing a wind instrument affects the overall tone quality of the instrument significantly. As an exercise, it is recommended for the reader to record their instrument while varying the vocal tract to different vowels on a single tone. In the recording, changes are often much more audible as humans hear much of their instrument through bone conduction which is less affected by the vocal tract than the sound that is radiated through the wind instrument’s resonator. In addition, the audible effect is also stronger if it is listened to separately from playing the tone. When we produce vowels while listening, we partly compensate for the effect because the heard sounds meet our expectation.

2.5.2 Intonation Using Super Formants It should be noted that the vocal tract can also be formed in a way to fuse the two formants into one so-called super formant. In this case, the Formants F1 and F2 are

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2 Acoustics of the Saxophone

produced at the same frequencies, and the super formant has a stronger resonance compared with the resonance effect of two separate formants. Super formants are known to be used for overtone singing [28], but are also important to reach the high register of wind instruments such as the saxophone altissimo range [54]. If done correctly, the high notes develop at the resonance frequency of the super formant.

2.5.3 Articulation The vocal tract is also used to form consonants—see Fig. 2.23. For the performance of wind instruments, consonant tones are usually articulated by touching the upper gum ridge with the tip of the tongue, shaping the consonants ‘d’ or ‘t’. For double tonguing, the back of the tongue is used as well to form a sequence ‘t’-‘k’ or ‘d’-‘g’. The consonants ‘t’ and ‘d’ are shaped the same way except more force is used to shape the consonant ‘t’. The consonants ‘k’ and ‘g’ are also related and vary only by the strength with which they are produced. West and Smith [285, p. 25] suggest the sequence ‘te’-‘re’ for the use of the cornett. This sequence is an interesting combination, and the consonant ‘r’ results in a softer articulation than produced by the consonant ‘g’. However, this practice is also a good example of how the performer has to learn to deviate from speech practice because one certainly does not want to produce the characteristic roll of the ‘r’ sound when producing the ‘t’-‘r’ sequence. The tip of the tongue can also be used to increase the airflow velocity. Especially in conjunction with treble brass instruments, this can help extend the high range. In a technique called Tongue Controlled Embouchure (TCE), the tip of the tongue is rested on the lower lip or teeth to form a narrow channel at the mouthpiece to increase the airflow velocity to reach high notes more easily [49]. Alternatively, a

t (TO)

g (GO)

r (READ)

Fig. 2.23 Cross-sections of the vocal tract showing three consonant tongue formations that are relevant for articulating a wind instrument in the Western tradition. The graphs were drawn using data from Potter et al. [221]

2.5 The Role of the Vocal Tract

37

narrow channel can be shaped in the back of the tongue using a tongue formation similar to the consonant ‘g’ but leaving a small gap for the air to pass. In this case, the front part of the oral cavity can still be used to form vowels. This technique can be advantageous for the renaissance cornett where it is typically desirable for the vocal tract to form the vowel ‘a’.

Chapter 3

Extended Techniques for the Saxophone

3.1 Altissimo Range The extended range of the saxophone above the normal range is called the altissimo range, which means “very high” in Italian. On the soprano saxophone, the altissimo range starts with the note G6 , in B saxophone notation, and ends, depending on the player’s skill level, generally up to D7 . The notes in this range are called high notes or top notes. It is frequently thought that the notes of the altissimo range can be reached by applying extraordinarily high lip pressure, but the key of playing these notes is really rooted in the correct formation of the vocal tract. A study by Chen et al. [54] has shown that professional saxophone players adjust the frequency of the vocal tract to the fundamental of each played note well into the altissimo range. This practice also prevents the fundamental frequency from developing an octave below the top note. Guitarists and other string instrument players use a similar technique to play natural harmonics of a string by lightly placing a finger on an antinode of a string while plucking it with the other hand. An antinode is a position on the string where the standing wave for the fundamental or another partial tone has a maximum amplitude. The fundamental frequency of a guitar string has the amplitude maximum right in the center between the bridge and saddle (twelfth fret). If the guitar player’s finger touches the string at this point without pressing down on the fret, the fundamental tone can no longer develop. The string is now forced to have a node at the finger position, and only the octave and the upper harmonics will sound. In a similar way, the saxophone player has to develop a throat configuration that prevents the fundamental frequency of a tone in the regular register from sounding in order to reach the altissimo range. It is worth experimenting with various vocal tract formations in combination with different key combinations and reed adjustments because the resulting fundamental frequency depends on the constellation of the resonator impedance, the vocal tract impedance, and the reed configuration (lip pressure and placement). In general, the vocal tract should be tight in the back, forming somewhat the consonant ‘k’ without fully closing the gap between the back of the tongue and the velum (soft palate). The © Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2019 J. Braasch, Hyper-specializing in Saxophone Using Acoustical Insight and Deep Listening Skills, Current Research in Systematic Musicology 6, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-15046-4_3

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3 Extended Techniques for the Saxophone

various key suggestions throughout the literature are a good starting point, but better individual combinations might be found than the ones provided in these references. The following key combinations are my personal favorites to play high notes on the soprano saxophone:

It should also be noted that it is much easier to produce high notes on a larger saxophone, tenor or baritone, than on a smaller one, like the alto or soprano saxophone. As a student many years ago, after I managed to extend the natural range of my tenor saxophone by an octave, I borrowed an alto saxophone and had the opportunity to play this instrument for the first time in my life. Of course, I wanted to see how high I could play this instrument, but to my surprise, I reached exactly the same highest sounding note, E6 , as on my tenor saxophone. I realized that it was the ability to create a sufficiently high resonance with my vocal tract rather than the instrument or mouthpiece reed combination that allowed me to play top notes. Nonetheless, the choice of the mouthpiece can have a positive influence on the production and sound quality of high notes. In my experience, the larger the tip opening, the easier it is to produce high notes with a rich overtone spectrum. With my Otto Link Supertone 13*, I am also using a plastic reed to keep the acoustical properties of the reed consistent from one reed to the next. With a traditional cane reed, each reed produces overtones in a different way and it can be quite a challenge to find all the upper high notes every time a new reed is used. To my ears, the plastic reeds never sounded adequate with a traditional mouthpiece, but with the Otto Link’s extreme tip opening, it works just fine. I frequently used a teeth guard when playing high notes for an extended time on the Otto Link mouthpiece to prevent excessive teeth marks from the vibrating reed.

3.2 Circular Breathing Circular breathing is a technique for playing a wind instrument continuously by temporarily pushing out air from the cheeks while inhaling. Hereby, the player’s cheeks serve as a bellow, similar to the bag of a bagpipe or the pipe organ bellow. The cheeks are used to supply a constant wind pressure to the instrument. The cycle of circular breathing has two phases as shown in Fig. 3.1. During the first phase, the player exhales to refill the air reservoir that is stored in the cheeks while continuing to provide air to the wind instrument at the same time—essentially dividing her air supply to fulfill both functions simultaneously. In the second phase of the cycle,

3.2 Circular Breathing

41

CYCLE II Inhaling

CYCLE I Exhaling

nasal cavity

nasal cavity

oral cavity

tongue

oral cavity

tongue

Fig. 3.1 Airflow schematic of the two phases that characterize circular breathing

the lungs now inhale, while the cheeks continue to provide a constant air supply to the instrument. This way the skilled player never runs out of air and can play continuously for several minutes or in some rare cases even over an hour. A traditional way of learning circular breathing is to take a hose, submerge it into a bucket of water, and learn to blow bubbles continuously. A straw and a glass of water will do in the beginning as well. The advantage of this beginner exercise is that that player does not have to worry about keeping the embouchure up. The diameter of the hose can be kept narrow enough to make the airflow manageable in the beginning. Once the basic mechanism has been learned the two major challenges are to hold the embouchure steady and to use the air so sparingly that the cheeks can provide enough air to perform the instrument continuously. Soprano instruments often pose great embouchure challenges to maintain the correct pitch steadily. In contrast, bass instruments are typically more relaxed on the embouchure, but these instruments generally need more air supply, which can be difficult to handle on a continuous basis. One difficult exercise is to learn to swallow while circular breathing to remove excessive saliva that collects over time. First, the body has to be convinced that the mouth does not need to be fully closed in order to swallow. For the first exercise, one can learn to swallow while the cheeks are partially filled with air. Next, one can continue to release very little air through the mouth while swallowing without having to stop the air flow intermittently. Once this can be accomplished one can repeat the exercise with an actual wind instrument that requires little air to produce a tone, for example, a flute. The fact that the swallowing mechanism fatigues quickly when performed too often within a short period makes this exercise even harder.

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Circular breathing is traditionally associated with the Australian didjeridu [262], the Middle Eastern double-reed zurna [215], and other indigenous instruments. In other cultures, a continuous tone is achieved by alternating the sound between instruments. The Tibetan horn, for example, is played in pairs of two instruments of the same pitch so one player can inhale while the other one continues to play the tone [213]. Western music traditionally focuses on short 4 or 8 bar phrases with no need to play an instrument without rest for an extended amount of time. However, the modern repertoire requires players capable of circular breathing for nearly every orchestral wind instrument—including the saxophone (Evan Parker, Kenny “G” Gorelick), the flute (Helen Bledsoe, Angus McPherson), the trombone (Stuart Dempster1 ), and the trumpet (Rafael Méndez). Circular breathing can be performed in two distinctive ways, either by learning to make the transitions between in- and exhaling inaudible to create a smooth, continuous tone or by emphasizing this transition to create a rhythmic pattern. The latter practice is often found in didjeridu performances [183], and it can be compelling if the performer can gradually shift between the two concepts. It is also essential to understand the musical benefit for oneself to learn circular breathing. It should be more than a physical exercise that is learned to impress others. In music, circular breathing can become a symbol for eternity by breaking the inevitable cycle of breathing. It can also be used to provide a drone to study long-term effects of sound exposure. The long tones can be used to trigger inhibitory effects in the brain, possibly leading to a state of trance. Circular breathing is an interesting method to study timbre because the focus can be shifted away from attention-drawing note on- and offsets, and it can also be used to produce slowly changing repetitive tone sequences in the tradition of minimal music. With regard to the instrument variations presented in Chap. 5 of this book, the easiest ones for exercising circular breathing are the pocket didjeridu and the narrow tip saxophone mouthpiece with a light reed. The hardest two instruments in terms of embouchure are the Boehm cornett and the rim flute played on the saxophone neck.

3.3 Singing and Playing In classical saxophone literature, the voice is not used while performing the saxophone, but in jazz, a style was quickly adopted where the voice was used in addition to the reed-generated sound to produce a growl. Especially in the so-called hot jazz era, the growl was used in addition to the vibrato to create a sense of profound expression. Using this technique, a sound that loosely follows the saxophone melody is produced with the voice. Since both the voice and the reed sounds are channeled through the resonator, they interfere with each other. The resulting effect is similar to the sound of an electronic ring modulator, and it produces a harsh “growl” sound. Almost all icons of the hot jazz era use this effect frequently, including Coleman Hawkins, Ben 1 Dempster

[75] describes the circular breathing method extensively in his book.

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Webster, and Earl Bostic. The effect fell out of use when cool-jazz elements started to dominate the performance style of saxophonists like Stan Getz, Lee Konitz, and Paul Desmond. The spiritual leaders of the cool movement, Frankie Trumbauer and Lester Young, were already avoiding the growl effect during the swing era. Later in the 1950s, the growl effect became part of the new signature sound for rock’n’roll and rock music saxophonists like Joey Ambrose from Bill Haley & His Comets and Clarence Clemons from Bruce Springsteen’s E Street Band. Most saxophone players are not aware that the sound of the voice can also be used for many other saxophone effects. In contrast, for reasons discussed further below, the flute has a very established tradition of differently voiced effects [228]. If the voice sings perfectly in tune with the reed produced sound, the ring-modulated effect will not occur, and a clean sound mixture can be obtained. The main problem with using the voice directly and not as a modulator for the reed sound is that the voice is not very loud because the narrow tip opening on the saxophone prevents the voice from radiating through the saxophone bore—a problem that does not occur with the flute. To make things more complicated for the saxophone, the voice can often be clearly heard internally because of bone conduction to the inner ear. However, when the sound is recorded with an external microphone, the voice often no longer can be heard because it is obstructed by the small tip opening of the reed valve. To make this effect work, one has to learn to sing unnaturally loud and play softly at the same time. Singing into the instrument is actually easier on the didjeridu than on Western wind instruments because the didjeridu does not have a throat between the mouthpiece and the bore. This way, the voice can pass fairly unhindered. One technique of singing into the saxophone is to sing a drone, e.g., the tone G4 , and then to play a melody with the saxophone on top of the drone. The example below shows both the singing and saxophone parts in the transposed saxophone key to demonstrate this technique: Sax

Voice

In contrast, one can also play a drone with the saxophone and then sing a melody as shown below: Sax

Voice

One can also double each saxophone tone with the voice as depicted here:

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3 Extended Techniques for the Saxophone Sax

Voice

Alternatively, one can sing parallel intervals of a third, fifth, or another interval like the octave shown in the last example: Sax

Voice

One of my favorite techniques is to sing an octave below the saxophone tone. If done well, the octave below fuses well with the sound of the remaining instrument to give the impression of a larger instrument. This effect can be further emphasized by using non-linear throat singing techniques [28], where the false vocal cords are used to produce frequencies below the natural sound of the voice. This can produce a rough sound with an interesting low-frequency texture. A lot about pitch perception can be learned from singing along with the saxophone reed. It is remarkable how precisely a tone can be sung in pitch to avoid beating sounds and other interference effects with the reed sound. It reminds us that pitch is very much context dependent. In some situations, we get away with inaccurately produced pitches, and in other situations, exact pitches have to be produced to make the music work. As a non-singer, I wondered for a while why I was so much better at singing into my instrument then singing without it. I soon realized that the saxophone tone was my reference for singing. Without a steady reference system, each tone sang or played at the wrong pitch influences the internal reference system. A good example is the perception of instruments with a reduced octave range. In this case, all pitches are closer together than they should be for an equal tempered instrument. As a consequence, the resulting octave is too small. When such an instrument is played diatonically, the reduced octave range is often not apparent because the pitch deviation for each whole semi- or whole tone is within tolerance limits. Since each note will become a new reference tone, the player is often unaware that the resulting octave is less than the ratio of 2:1. However, studies have shown that our tolerance limits are smaller for consonant intervals, e.g., octave, fifth and fourth, and larger for more dissonant intervals, e.g., semitone, whole tone, minor and major third [119]. When playing a large consonant interval on such an instrument, it will be much easier to detect that the instrument is not in tune with itself because now the deviations from the true interval are outside the typical tolerance limits. In contrast, everything can be within the tolerance limits when playing a diatonic scale consisting of only whole- and semitones. In practice, studies have shown that

3.3 Singing and Playing

45

most instrumentalists slightly enlarge the octave when playing by ear [265, p. 221]. At some point, I realized that by keying a tone on my saxophone, I automatically memorized the pitch of this tone. When I practiced singing the octave below the instrument, I often sang the first note in the morning before starting to play my saxophone. I keyed a low note, e.g., D4 , and then sang the note before I started to play the tone with the reed. To my surprise, the pitch of the sung tone was dead on and neither the sung or the reed tone needed pitch correction. This experiment would work best if I had played within a period of 24 h the day before or even better if I had practiced before going to bed. This is one of the reasons I am a big proponent of practicing at least once, or even better twice, a day. Some methods need time for the brain to adapt and frequent repetition often works better than just accumulating playing time. Many techniques need a long time period to be learned, independent of how many hours are spent in training. This is one of the reasons I believe that a musician can handle a large variety of mouthpiece adapters. Instead of learning them one by one, I propose to learn them in parallel with a temporary focus on a subset of them. There are two ways to learn to play an instrument in tune. One way is to work with an electronic tuner; the other one is to play along with a reference structure, e.g., a playback tape. Although electronic tuners can be very helpful, I much prefer the play along method, because it will train the auditory system to accomplish this by listening. When working with a tuner, there is a tendency to rationally think about producing the correct pitch, e.g., to think to have to drop the jaw to produce the correct pitch for a low note. This will make it difficult to react adequately if the rational system fails, e.g., if the performer has to produce an incorrect tone to be in tune with other ensemble members. In another self-experiment, I wanted to learn how accurate we are concerning time. So when I wanted to know the time, I predicted it first and then checked my watch. I found that I was often fairly precise in the order of 3–5 min after waiting for a period of many hours. However, this only worked if I was doing a task I knew well, e.g., reading a book, and I was in a calm mood. Stress inhibited this ability to a great extent. It also turned out that the initial guess was typically the best, and once I would start to reason with myself my estimate typically got worse. From this, I learned to trust my body more. This is one of the reasons why I became a fan of working with my embodied intelligence and thinking that will be discussed in the next chapter.

Chapter 4

Deep Listening

4.1 Introduction This chapter focuses on the Deep Listening philosophy, which was founded by avantgarde composer Pauline Oliveros as a result of her lifetime career that started in the 1950s. One of the features that make Deep Listening very interesting for this book is that Pauline was an excellent improviser and accordion virtuoso and that she viewed improvisation as a core creative act and not just as a form of interpretation of a composer’s score. While free improvisation can liberate the participants from slavishly adhering to the preconceived directions of a composer, it requires a thorough set of listening skills that methods like Deep Listening foster. Deep Listening is a genre-independent method that lets participants interact with the environment through focal and global listening. In contrast to traditional music theory, the method focuses on listening and not on music performance. In this context, it is noteworthy that our auditory system had probably evolved to essentially the same form it takes today long before we started to civilize in a modern sense. One can argue this way because the generational physiological changes that occur in the auditory system are much slower than our cultural advancements. While our approach to performing music and building instruments constantly changes, we have been doing this with essentially the same biological hearing organ. Evolutionary biologists were able to show that the fundamental mechanisms of mammalian hearing evolved millions of years ago [211], whereas the oldest artifacts of auditory culture, a rim flute made from a vulture bone, are merely 40,000 years old [60]. Evolution happens at very different paces, with a very slow progression of structural anatomical changes, a moderate timeline for intuitive behavioral changes and currently a fast timeline for advancing rational thought processes. These different rates do not indicate different levels of quality; instead, it is important to understand how each mechanism contributes in an important way to evolution. Deep Listening is universal in the sense that it focuses on the hearing processes rather than providing cultural guidelines in the form of rules. By avoiding set rules, © Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2019 J. Braasch, Hyper-specializing in Saxophone Using Acoustical Insight and Deep Listening Skills, Current Research in Systematic Musicology 6, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-15046-4_4

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many consider this movement to be non-judgmental (e.g., [206]), but at the same time, it holds each participant responsible for making their own judgments based on listening and cultural experience.

4.2 Hearing and Listening 4.2.1 General Definitions and Background Traditional hearing science differentiates between hearing as a passive act and listening as a conscious act. While hearing is often an involuntary act describing the automated processing of sensed acoustic signals, listening requires the attention of the mind to focus on auditory streams of interest. Humans are capable of extracting desired sounds from a mixture of sounds, for example, when listening to a solo clarinet within an orchestra or communicating with a friend on a train platform with many sounds in the background. We, therefore, describe the sounds we pay attention to as foreground and the other sounds as background sounds. In hearing science, we also distinguish between sensation and perception. Sensation is the response of the brain to body sensors, for example, the excitation of the eardrums by a sound, while perception refers to consciously perceived sounds. To clearly differentiate between the perceptual world and the physical world, a perceived sound is called an auditory event. Typically, an auditory event is directly induced by a physical sound event, but this does not necessarily have to be the case. We can, for example, wake up in the morning and still hear an opera aria in our mind from yesterday’s opera performance without responding directly to a physical stimulus. In lay terms, this would be called an earworm, and the scientific term is involuntary musical imagery— see Liikkanen [159]. The auditory system differs fundamentally from the visual sense because it continuously monitors our environment for potential dangers. For this reason, we cannot close our ears during sleep as we do with our eyes. Not every sound disturbs our sleep, and the brain is able to make a pre-selection of what to bring to our attention while we rest [45]. For small children, it can be observed that their sleep is much more robust toward environmental sounds compared to adults. From an evolutionary perspective, it appears that it is better for them to rely on their parents monitoring their sleep and not to wake up themselves. This monitoring process is also adapted to our environment. Somebody living in a big city is usually less disturbed by traffic sound than people from rural areas. Unusual quietness can also be interpreted as a potential threat and wake us up.

4.2.2 Focal and Global Listening Pauline Oliveros’ idea that hearing relates to the auditory mechanisms that are evoked in the brain when induced by a sound stimulus and that listening is the conscious act to

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attend to sound follows the modern scientific practice. Deep Listening differentiates between two different forms of listening, focal and global listening. Focal listening is the act of mentally focusing on a specific element of the sonic environment. Like a lens that focuses light on a specific object, Oliveros instructs the listener to focus on specific details of a sound object. Focal listening enables a listener to focus on or zoom into a particular feature in a complex sound field, for example, the pizzicato attack of a violin bow. Focal listening is an attentive process. Attention has been psychologically defined since the late 19th century. James [136, p. 403f.] originally defined attention using the following description: Every one knows what attention is. It is the taking possession by the mind, in clear and vivid form, of one out of what seem several simultaneously possible objects or trains of thought. Focalization, concentration, or consciousness are of its essence. It implies withdrawal from some things in order to deal effectively with others, and is a condition which has a real opposite in the confused, dazed, scatter brained state which in French is called distraction, and Zerstreutheit in German.

Focal Listening, however, goes beyond the biological process of paying attention to a particular sound. It also asks the listener to use imagination to observe the sound from a virtual perspective, for example, from the “bottoms of the sole of the feet” (Sonic Mediation V, in: [198]). Consequently, this method challenges the idea that a listener is an individuum that is demarcated from the outside physical world by the skin. While this might be strictly true in a physical sense, such a positivist’s view neglects that we can use our imagination to transcend these boundaries. By virtually being able to change perspective one can gain a better understanding of the positions of others, which can be instrumental for constructive interaction between musicians and other communication partners. In global listening, the listener is instructed to tune into the sonic environment as a whole to gain a holistic, unbiased impression of the environment. The whole environment can include a music ensemble but also the acoustic environment itself. Since the latter is not part of a traditional music score, it is often neglected. While we often pay attention to the acoustics of a concert hall, the background sounds are usually dealt with as unwanted noise. When presenting his famous work 4 33" in 1952, John Cage actually wanted to raise the audience’s awareness of the lively acoustic forest environment that surrounded the semi-open Maverick performance space [110]. However, many music critics wrote that Cage postulated everything including silence can be proclaimed as music, e.g., see Rothstein [231]. This circumstance only emphasizes the general lack of awareness for the acoustic environment in a music performance.1 One can argue when global listening is perfected, the listener mentally dissolves with her environment. If one believes in the theory of constructivism, where the brain constructs a world outside of the human body via the senses, global listening 1 Pauline and I discussed this at the 2012 Bang on the Can Festival at the Wintergarden in New York

City [247] after we were caught by surprise how many commissioned pieces did not reflect the immense reverberation of the venue. The majority of the often very rhythmic pieces only worked in the first few rows while all important features were washed out in the center and back of the venue.

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can be seen as the process to mentally deconstruct the demarcation line between the body and the outside world, experiencing the world as a unified whole that includes oneself.2 We can take the idea of constructivism further to to shape our perceived environment through dreams actively.3 In her own definition, Pauline Oliveros uses the word attention to describing global listening. However, I would dispute that she used the term in the same way it is used in science. In my own work with Pauline, I experienced global listening as an intuitive act that could be best described as a hyperconscious state of mind. In a conscious act, we often probe the object of attention with a set of expectations. Like in Schrödinger’s cat example,4 we influence the outcome of our probe by mentally biasing the probe. In an unconscious act, our brain operates automatically without the listener being aware of it and memorizing the events. With global listening, the trick is to learn to capture the sonic environment by drawing from mechanisms that are usually used unconsciously in order to not bias the outcome. At the same time, we need to learn to process the received information in a way that is similar to what we do for fully conscious, focal listening. This way, we can further process the information by memorizing it, by thinking rationally about it, and by responding to it in a musical conversation. We can call this process hyperconsciousness because we no longer attempt to steer a focus of attention consciously, but at the same time, we want to be able to further process what is being heard using all available mechanisms including attention, consciousness, and rational thinking. When Osborne [206] describes the act of Deep Listening as “nonjudgmental perception, […to] gain […] a particular form of dispassionate objectivity,” I believe the more precise term would be to refer to unbiased perception. In my own experience, I did not find Pauline’s approach to be nonjudgmental. Instead, she wanted to break with traditional judgments and conventions, partly because they were conceived in a male-dominated culture. Her work requests to put everything to a new probe. In order to come to new judgments, one needs to learn to observe the environment in an unbiased manner to avoid falling back into preconceived patterns and ideas. For Pauline, one way of assessing the 2 Constructivism is a theory founded by Jean Piaget stating that knowledge is actively constructed by

the learner and not just received through the environment [216]. The theory of radical constructivism [108] goes further by assuming that the “real world” might be just a concept that only exists within our mind. 3 Carol“Ione” Lewis, Pauline Oliveros’ partner often discussed this during her dream workshops. She also wrote two handbooks for Deep Listening dreamers [134, 135]. 4 In 1935, Erwin Schrödinger postulated that an atom could have different states, called quantum states that are uncertain to the observer. The only way to determine the actual quantum state would be to interfere with the atom, which would have consequences on its state. To illustrate this phenomenon using a macroscopic example, Schrödinger published a thought experiment in which a cat is placed in a concealed cage [243]. Within the cage is a poisonous device triggered by an atomic decay process. Since the decay of an atomic is a stochastic process, one can only speculate if the cat had been killed at a given time or not. Unless the observer opens the cage, the cat remains at the observed ambivalent state of being dead and alive at the same time because both states are described by a probability distribution. Similarly, one can treat the human brain as a concealed system that can only be probed introspectively or by interrogating others. Both methods, however, will affect the performance of the observed brain.

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quality of a performance was done by judging the degree to which the participating musicians were able to listen to each other. In her eyes, somebody who brought too many old clichés to the table instead of carefully listening to others while playing could degrade the whole performance. Deep Listening is the whole process of learning and strategically using focal and global listening as a tool to gain a comprehensive understanding of the sonic environment.5 Pauline provided the following diagram with her sonic meditation exercises [199, p. 1]:

In this diagram, the point represents focal listening and the circle global listening. Note that the circle should not be seen as a strict boundary as Pauline writes: “Global attention is diffuse and continually expanding to take in the whole of the space/time continuum of sound” [201, p. 13]. Deep Listening can be an internal process to gain a better or unique understanding of the sonic environment or an external process in which this understanding is applied to better communicate with other musicians during a music performance. Deep Listening not only includes the process of listening to present sounds, but also the process of memorizing sounds and enauditioning sounds. I use the term enauditioning as a substitute for imagining and as an auditory equivalent to envisioning. The definition of this new terms resulted from my conversations with Pauline, in which we both agreed that our language is too centered on the visual modality. The Deep Listening concept encompasses four stages [198, p. 1]: 1. 2. 3. 4.

Listening to present sounds Remembering sounds Actively enauditioning sounds Actually making sounds

The act of remembering and enauditioning sounds is also a central part of focal listening because it allows us to virtually change the perspective, which can only be done by mentally constructing missing information that, if at all, could only be obtained from a different physical location. Pauline used her sonic meditations as an educational method for listeners to develop both global and focal listening skills. In this context, it is not only important 5 It

has meanwhile been confirmed scientifically by Schneider and Wengenroth [240] that different areas of the auditory cortex are excited depending on whether the listeners applied global (holistic) or focal (spectral) listening.

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to acquire both skills per se, but also to fluently move between both techniques and eventually engage in poly-listening, where one can listen globally and monitor several focal listening points at the same time [200]. One can easily expand from the previous figure to visually depict the process of poly-listening:

Here, the dots symbolize different focal listening points; the ‘x’ shows the physical listener position and the ‘+’ signs show the virtual listener positions.

4.2.3 Auditory Scene Analysis The field of Auditory Scene Analysis is a framework that helps to understand how the brain manages to perform focal listening within a complex mixture of sounds [42]. In complex scenarios, sounds typically compete and overlap in time and frequency. The auditory system possesses a number of mechanisms to perceptually separate sounds and to extract information from individual sources—thus enabling focal listening. According to Auditory Scene Analysis, the auditory system decomposes an incoming signal into its individual features, as a first step, by separating the broadband signal into individual frequency bands. Each band is about a third of an octave wide. A spectrogram is an adequate technical representation of this auditory process. Figure 4.1 depicts the sound of a jazz trio to illustrate the decomposition mechanism. The ‘x’ axis shows the time, the ‘y’ axis the logarithmic frequency. The acoustic energy for each time/frequency point is shown by a varying degree of gray ranging from black, for no energy, to white, for a maximum of energy.6 The main acoustic features are represented by the individually separated white and light gray objects. In the second step of the Auditory Scene Analysis process, the auditory system uses four acoustic regularities to group the individual components to auditory streams and objects. These fundamental regularities are found for nearly all sounds observed in nature: 1. Unrelated sounds almost never start or stop at the same time. 2. Due to the underlying physical processes, the partial-tone frequencies of a harmonic sound are usually integer multiples of the fundamental frequency. If this 6 The

time/frequency bins are scaled logarithmically to decibels in this particular case.

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Saxophone

5000 Hz

Frequency

Drums

2000 Hz

1000 Hz

500 Hz Bass

250 Hz 100 Hz 0.0 s

0.5 s

1.0 s

1.5 s

2.0 s

2.5 s

3.0 s

3.5 s

4.0 s

Time

Fig. 4.1 Spectrogram of a jazz trio excerpt (soprano saxophone, bass and drums) to demonstrate the transparent sound ideal of mainstream jazz combos

frequency is changed the frequencies of the partial tone follow as integer multiples (e.g., in a vibrato). 3. Sounds or sequences of sounds from the same source tend to change their properties gradually. If a sound is affected by a physical change, all of its components will be similarly affected by this change. 4. Sounds or sequences of sounds from the same source tend to change their spatial position only gradually. An individual object can be a partial tone with a starting and ending point as shown in Label ‘a’ of Fig. 4.2. We can safely assume that the partial tones 1–6 as shown in Diagram ‘a’ all belong to the same source because they all start and end at the same time (following Regularity 1), and they are integer multiples of Tone 1 (following Regularity 2). In the case of ‘b’, the three lowest partial tones belong to another auditory object or sound than the three upper partial tones because both groups have different onset times (Regularity 1). In the case of ‘c’, the partial tones labeled 1, 3, and 5 belong to one auditory object and the partial tones labeled 2, 4, 6 to another one. The first group (1, 3, 5) consists of stationary frequencies that are integer multiples of the fundamental (line labeled ‘1’), while the second group (2, 4, 6) slightly ascends in frequency over time. Regularity 2 is not preserved between both groups, and even though both groups start and end at the same time, they are perceived as separate auditory objects. As shown in ‘d’, the partial tones all follow the same pattern until a vibrato is added to the Partials 2, 4, and 6. Violating Regularity 2, this group now segregates from the other partial tones (1, 3, 5) as a separate auditory object. At the end of the vibrato, both groups are fused again to one auditory object. The panels ‘e’ and ‘f’ demonstrate Regularity 3. In ‘e’, the amplitude of the tone is increased gradually, and we will perceive the sound as one sound that is gradually

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REGULARITY 1: Synchronous On-/Offsets frequency

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increased in volume before the volume gradually decreases again. In ‘f’, the volume change occurs abruptly, and in this case, we hear the volume change as the occurrence of a second auditory object that disappears later after the sudden volume decrease. The panels ‘g’ and ‘h’ show an example to depict Regularity 4. In ‘g’, a series of sounds, e.g., footsteps, have the same position and are therefore being perceived as part of the same auditory stream. In ‘h’, the position of the sounds varies gradually over time with the exceptions of sounds ‘3’ and ‘5’ which arrive from the opposite direction. Because they violate Regularity 4, it is expected that these two sounds

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are perceived as a separate auditory stream from the main stream all other sounds are perceptually grouped into. The grouping process of Auditory Scene Analysis to form auditory objects and streams confirms the gestalt theory,7 which emphasizes that humans perceive objects as structured wholes and not as the sum of the object’s constituent parts. For example, we naturally hear the sound of a clarinet, and it requires expert training to hear out the instrument’s individual partial tones.

4.2.4 Transparent and Fused Music Ensembles The fundamental difference between global and focal listening also plays a role in the two primary competing sound ideals in orchestration and ensemble arrangement. Here, one can either seek to establish a transparent or holistic ensemble sound. Over time, musical styles often took a general preference in one of the two approaches, see Paumgartner [209, p. 62f.] and Reuter [227, p. 88ff.]. For a holistic ensemble sound, the ideal is to perceptually fuse the participating instruments or groups within the ensemble to holistic entities that no longer allow the listener to hear out the individual instruments within this entity. Late 19th-century symphony works typically follow this sound ideal. Here, compositional methods inherently make use of the Auditory Scene Analysis regularities in order for the listener to group the individual components of all instruments into one auditory stream. If two or more instruments are fully aligned in frequency, start and end at the same time, and possess timbral characteristics that blend with each other, the listener can no longer build on the auditory scene-analysis regularities to perceptually segregate the individual instruments. Instead, the listeners perceive a single, fused auditory stream. The precision necessary to achieving this blending effect explains why there needs to be so much discipline within an orchestra. If two or more instruments are not perfectly in tune, the auditory system can use this mismatch to perceptually separate these instruments because the partial tones no longer have an integer relationship to each other. In a transparent ensemble sound, the goal is to enable the audience to segregate the musical instruments involved in the performance perceptually. The ensemble is set up in a way that ensures that each instrument remains its own distinctly identifiable entity. Smaller jazz combos typically follow this trend, and even though the ensemble plays together, you would be very surprised not to be able to distinguish the saxophone sound from the piano. From an Auditory Scene-Analysis perspective, a transparent ensemble sound is achieved by providing sufficient mismatch between individual instruments so the listener can discriminate between them. Typically, all involved instruments have their unique timbral characteristics, play their individual lines, and the ensemble is small enough to avoid too much overlap. Specific music genres tend to strategically build on one of the two ensemble sound concepts depending on the musical goal. Baroque music, for example, primarily uses the transparent sound concept. In Johann Sebastian Bach’s work, all voices can be 7 Gestalt

means shape/form in German.

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often heard out individually. Glenn Gould’s recording of the Art of the Fugue brings this idea to culmination [112]. Not only had Gould the ability to present several voices as independent entities on the piano, but he also chose an unusually dry environment, knowing that room reverberation would have made it more difficult for the listener to perceptually segregate the individual voices.8 It would have been impossible for Gould to produce the same effect in front of a live audience. In this case, room reverberation would have been necessary to carry the sound of the acoustic piano. It is important to note that the choice of a sound concept is more than an aesthetic preference. Bach’s movement is deeply rooted in the Protestant movement. Aside from theological differences to the Catholic Church, the then revolutionary movement was very concerned about conveying God’s word transparently to the community. Church services were no longer held in Latin but common local languages. Luther, himself, put much effort in compiling a Bible edition into the German language, the Luther Bible first published in 1522. Church congregations requested that small churches were built instead of large cathedrals so every attendant could understand the reverend [101, p. 9]. Converted churches like the St. Thomas Church Bach performed in were often retrofitted with wall carpets to reduce the reverberation time and improve speech intelligibility [145]. It is also important to keep in mind how much the Catholic Church initially struggled with the concept of polyphony, and there was a request to ban the polyphonic motets at the Council of Vienne in 1311/1312 [195, p. 489]. Also, some Protestant leaders like Calvin and Zwingli were concerned that the polyphonic music would obstruct the clarity of God’s message [70, p. 195]. In contrast, Luther believed that church music would not only praise but also inform [70, p. 196], and he was deeply inspired by contemporary composers of polyphonic music, for example, by Palestrina [46]. Johann Sebastian Bach was a follower of Luther. In his work, the dialogue became a critical element to hear out all the musical arguments by the individual voices. In contrast to Bach and other baroque music, starting with Beethoven and peers, romantic music preferred a more holistic orchestral sound image [209, p. 140ff.]. The size of orchestra grew to enormous ensemble sizes that sometimes included over a hundred musicians. During this period, the standard concert hall was developed following a sound ideal to blend instrument sections further using reverberation. In general, the romantic period was a contrasting movement to the preceding, rational Age of Enlightenment. Now, the imaginary, emotional, and the transcendental became central ideas of life, and the holistic sound ideal that prevents the listener from segregating individual sources supported the general admiration for mystery. Also in 20th-century popular and jazz music, we find different preferences for the degree of blending between different instruments. As mentioned before, small jazz combos usually preferred a transparent sound ideal where every musician has his individual voice. For this reason, stereo vinyl records immediately became popular with jazz labels after they were introduced commercially at the end of the 1950s [38]. The stereo effect allowed the producers to further separate the instruments by 8 Compare the Juilliard String Quartet [141] recording for a reverberant setting that produces a much

more fused sound image.

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placing them center, left, or right. In contrast, the leading pop music releases during the same time period started to follow a holistic sound ideal to blend the instruments. Stereo techniques were counterproductive for this ideal and mono releases remained the standard until new stereo techniques were invented to make the sound image wider rather than placing pin-pointed sounds at different lateral positions. Among the desirable goals of Deep Listening is indeed the aspect of a community which is often achieved through a fused sound across different ensemble members. In Pauline Oliveros’ Sonic Meditations, large crowds of people often started with a disparate body of individuals before naturally finding a common voice during the performance. The iconic sound of the Deep Listening Band in the Dan Harpole Cistern is another example [204]. Here, the cistern’s long reverberation time of 45 s in the low-frequency range provides a holistic sound impression of the trio, and the sound of the band members is formed into one auditory stream. I remember an episode when we mixed the Sound Shadows album [40]. After sending out a new set of rough mixes, Stuart Dempster wrote enthusiastically back that he liked a particular track because he could no longer hear out the individual voices. Coming from jazz, where the general ideal is to mix all instruments transparently so everybody can be heard out individually, this was a entirely new idea to me, and I embraced it immediately. In 2008, Pauline Oliveros (Roland V-accordion), Doug Van Nort (laptop, electronics) and I (soprano saxophone) formed the trio Triple Point, in which we worked together extensively until Pauline’s death in 2016 [267]. In this band, we often transitioned between the two sound ideals. There were parts where we blended into one complex voice and other parts where we preserved our individual voices. I believe it is important for everybody to think through how to blend within an ensemble. One needs to know in which situations to blend in and where to stick out perceptually.

4.3 Intuitive Listening 4.3.1 Intuitive Approach to Music In our society, we have an interesting tendency to distance our practices from doing things the natural way. Our intuitive capabilities are typically not held to a high standard. Too often, intuition becomes the last resort when we cannot grasp something rationally, instead of using our intuitive capabilities as a strategic tool where they offer real benefits. There is a psychological barrier for many classically trained musicians to improvise freely. It can become difficult to remove ourselves from rationally trained conventions to blindly rely on our intuitive, natural abilities. For some reason, we think it would be primitive to do so. We often use culture as a shield to deny our natural roots. Indigenous groups who practice life in natural ways used to be called primitives, but this term has now become such a common expression for doing things sub-standard that anthropologists no longer use this term and refer to indigenous

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people or other terms instead—see, for example, Kuper [151]. However, the term indigenous merely points to the fact that the group was the first to settle a place. The Japanese people, for example, are an indigenous group, even though Japan is one of the most industrialized countries in the world. During a class I co-taught with Pauline, I realized how far we can be removed from practicing matters in a natural way. The class was really about experimental telepresence, but Pauline brought her sonic meditation Teach Yourself to Fly [198, p. 2] the first day of class. We sat in a circle and produced all kinds of weird sounds per Pauline’s written instructions. The memorable event happened when the score asked to: “Allow your vocal cords to vibrate in any mode which occurs naturally.” The students who knew Pauline’s work were fine with this, but we had one student with a graduate degree in classical voice from an Ivy League school who clearly felt discomforted by the instructions. The student had the sheer feeling of unhappiness written in the face, while others produced the silliest and most interesting sounds. That was the last day we saw this student in the class. The most remarkable thing about this episode was that the student did not need any formal education to express the discomfort. No words had to be said; the natural, intuitive face expression revealed it all. How many times have we witnessed a classically trained musician not being able to produce more than a practice scale if no score is available and how many jazz musicians like to hide behind their rehearsed chord progressions? This phenomenon often has little to do with our ability but results from our unwillingness to depart from our comfort zone. Much of Pauline’s class work was dedicated to abolishing formal practices and replacing them with intuitive Deep Listening methods to achieve the following goals: 1. 2. 3. 4.

to avoid playing repetitive and pre-learned patterns to avoid judgmental, culturally-based bias to be able to listen to more than one auditory stream at a time to be able to control multiple features at once.

Pauline claimed that practicing would just lead to repeating trained phrases. She was thrilled when she received a button accordion after having played the keyed accordion exclusively because she no longer knew consciously where each note was. She thought it would make her performance much more intuitive and less predictive. She told me happily that someone asked her to give her an ‘A’ tuning note, and she flatly responded: “I can’t, I don’t know where it is.”9 Pauline often argued with me that I thought too much while playing. She frequently advised me just to let go and let the music have its own way. This was her understanding of embodiment. At one point, I promised Ione, Pauline’s partner, to perform a solo set on my soprano saxophone during her 2013 Dream Festival.10 Coincidentally, I had to visit the Convention of the Audio Engineering Society (AES) in New York City the same day. On my way to Kingston, where the Deep Listening Center was then located, I took a few wrong turns and had a hard time finding my 9 Personal

communication during our rehearsal at the Stone with Triple Point, February 26, 2012. [last accessed, May 23, 2018].

10 http://deeplistening.org/site/content/dreamfestival2013

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way. When I finally arrived, I had barely time to get my instrument out of the case. I soon found myself on stage with the realization that I did not find a minute to plan my set because my lab was busy preparing for the AES Convention. The best I could do in this situation was to take Pauline’s advice and not to think about it or anything else. Pauline immediately sensed what was going on, and told me after the concert that she was delighted that I was finally able to let go. One of the problems with our conscious way of thinking is that it typically occurs as a linear train of rational thoughts. This way we can concretize our thoughts so easily in a written statement. Music, on the other hand, can have complex, non-linear structures, for example, in the form of polyphonic and polyrhythmic sequences. Piano players, who have to deal with two independent hands, often learn the independence as a linear sequence first by studying the interlocked order of each finger, for example, for a cross-rhythm consisting of three evenly spaced notes in one hand against two evenly spaced notes during the same time interval in the other hand. Later the player practices to automate this pattern and learn to put the perceptual focus on one of the two hands to perform the pattern more smoothly. Automation is the key to learning to perform complex music structures. The student accomplishes to reading sheet music ahead of the currently played notes while actually performing the instrument in a semi-automated way. The more we learn, the better we become in automating larger structures. A wind instrument beginner learns to associate every written note with a key combination. Later, the student can automatize full phrases, for example, a phrase that corresponds to a II-V-I chord sequence in jazz. Often the performer is thinking within a symbolic framework, e.g., thinking in musical scales. When a performer is out of tune, it often does not necessarily mean that he is not able to discern the pitches, but he could as well just not focus on this aspect. In the Deep Listening practice, the activity is based on the actual sound rather than an abstract music framework with the expectation that this will benefit the interplay between musicians. The goal is often to completely embed oneself into a holistic ensemble sound in an unconscious way because focal attention only allows us to fixate on a very limited aspect of the music. Another goal of the Deep Listening practice is to learn to handle multiple parameters simultaneously. This was one of Pauline’s key desires and one of the reasons, she developed AUMI—the Adaptive Use Musical Instrument [205]. Pauline understood that if we learn to understand how people with severe mobility restrictions can learn to play a musical instrument, she could use this insight to learn to handle as many simultaneous music controllers as physiologically possible. She used this insight, for example, in conjunction with her Expanded Instrument System (EIS)—see Gamper and Oliveros [103]. It is important to reemphasize in this context that Deep Listening does not describe a set of rules, but instead builds on an approach to encourage the participants to rely on their advanced listening skills to communicate and form judgments. Deep Listening is non-judgmental in a sense that it denies the existence of given conventional rules. However, this leaves every listener with the responsibility of forming her own judgment through the help of listening and thought. It is a very flexible approach that inherently considers that the anatomy of the auditory system entirely evolved before we formed civilizations. Even though our cultures continuously change, we

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essentially use the same hearing organ to drive these cultures. Deep Listening focuses on the constancy of our auditory system to provide an adaptable framework for continuous development. Because it is not defined through rules like classical music or jazz it is not a time-bound genre. Similar to the approach of many intuitive cultures it is also non-hierarchical. Instead of assigning a leader, it asks all participants to negotiate a joint space through acoustic communication. In this sense, it is important to develop a mental representation of different acoustic viewpoints. One also needs to learn to acoustically decipher and respect the intention and goals of other musicians in order to successfully develop a joint musical space. In the absence of predefined rules, each deep listener has to figure out his own preferences. Ideally, one drills down to questions of basic musicianship. Scientists have tried, in vain, to find the origin of music for a long time [82, 133, 150, 177, 212, 254, 255, 276, 287]. It seems impossible ever to find an undeniable answer to this question. Among the current hypotheses is the idea that we developed songs from listening to birds, maybe even to imitate their calls for hunting purposes. It could also have been developed to experience community. Unlike the argumentative back and forth nature of spoken language, singing is typically a synchronous form of communication. Examples of groups of people singing to share compassion under difficult circumstances are nearly as old as the written languages.11 For sure, we know that musical instruments have accompanied our cultures for a very long time and the oldest artifacts [60] are older than the evidence found for animal domestication [156] and agriculture [259]. Evolutionary biologists often trace our behavior back to the four fundamental needs for survival: feeding, fleeing, fighting (recovery), and flirting (reproduction)—see Pribram [222] and Graham [113]. Music can potentially have a role in each of the four categories starting from the imitation of bird calls to hunting birds or their predators, using military music to intimidate enemies, singing lullabies to bring children to sleep or to impress potential mating partners musically. In this context, it is also interesting how knowledge is transferred inherently without (formal) demonstration. Even in remote areas, one can see children play the same hide and seek games as in urban playgrounds or to learn to balance on the edge of a sidewalk while walking. The most common theory to explain why we are ticklish is that it helps children to learn to engage in face-to-face combat without getting hurt—see Gregory [114, p. 41ff.] and Black [24]. It appears to be no coincidence that the body parts that are most ticklish are also the ones that are the most vulnerable in a face-to-face combat situation. One of my favorite examples of intuitive communication practice is Pauline’s Tuning Meditation. On August 21, 2007, she led a group of over 1000 voices at New York’s Lincoln Center and eight other telematically connected locations to perform a World Wide Tuning Meditation [172]. The instructions on a hand-out were simple: “Inhale deeply; exhale on the note of your choice; listen to the sounds around you, and match your next note to one of them; on your next breath make a note no one else 11 Take, for example, the depiction of chants of early Christian groups when captured beneath the Roman colosseums ahead of combats with wild animals in the Hollywood movie Quo Vadis (1951). A more recent example has been described by Colijn [59].

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is making; repeat. Call it listening out loud.” Pauline left it to the intuitive abilities of the performers to connect with each other in a meaningful way.

4.3.2 Embodiment Coming from classical music training, I initially struggled with the concept of embodiment in music performance and I later benefitted greatly from Heloise Gold’s Deep Listening body workshops and her book [109]. One of the main aspects of embodiment is the understanding that not everything has to be grasped rationally when performing a musical instrument. Take a water faucet for example. When people are asked whether the faucet needs to be turned clockwise or counterclockwise, most of us probably do not have an answer ready, even though we are able to turn on the water every time we use it easily. The knowledge of opening and closing a water valve is an example of embodied knowledge. To answer the question of clockwise or counterclockwise, we probably imagine the situation of opening a water tap, and then test which way our hand would turn to provide an answer. It should also be noted that embodiment is often the easiest way to transfer knowledge from one task to another. For example, it is crucial for a sound engineer to learn to identify spectral frequencies. If acoustic feedback occurs in a live concert, the sound engineer needs to know the frequencies where the feedback occurs in order to filter them out. The most common method to learn to name those frequencies is through association with speech formants. As previously discussed in Sect. 2.5, speech formants are frequency regions, where the filter properties of the vocal tract enhance the energy. Most Western languages use two main formants for each vowel to be identified. For example, for the vowel ‘e’ the sound around the formant frequencies 450 and 2100 Hz are enhanced, so we can easily discriminate the sound from the vowel ‘a’, where the frequencies 800 and 1100 Hz are elevated as previously discussed along Fig. 2.21. Even people with no musical training at all can easily identify these frequencies; otherwise, they would not be able to understand speech. The sound engineer does not have to study to name frequencies without known references but instead learns to transform the knowledge from a known domain, speech, to an unknown one, music. This way, the sound engineer accomplishes naming the frequencies by associating the heard sound with vowels, in the sense that certain frequencies sound like a ‘u’ and other frequencies sound more like an ‘o’ and so on. By rationally knowing the enhanced formant frequencies of different vowels, the canceling filter can be adjusted quickly using the frequency scale on the filter. Another example is pitch. Studies for native tone language speakers have shown that the produced fundamental frequencies for individual words remain the same over long periods. The reproduced fundamental frequencies are so accurate that one can assume the speakers possess the ability of perfect pitch, even though they cannot name the musical notes they speak [79]. Now, if we try to understand the phenomenon of perfect pitch as a process of the auditory system, we can immediately conclude that frequency is hardcoded in the auditory periphery. The hair cells along the basilar

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membrane, which segregates frequencies, will always report to the same frequencies. The references to the absolute frequency values are lost somewhere along the ascending auditory pathway before we have cognitive access to this information. For most people, it is just more advantageous to build up a reference system based on a relative pitch because this carries more meaning for most tasks. Concerning perfect pitch and many other things, there is always the question of the extent to which the ability can be rationally understood. Sometimes it can be better to learn things intuitively without ever rationally understanding them. The key is to find the optimal combination of intuitive and formal, rational thinking, which can be different for every individual. It is often easier to throw some of the rational thought processes overboard after benefiting from them while learning an instrument traditionally than trying to accomplish everything through intuition only. It is important to note that most free improvisers have learned their musical instrument in a traditional way first. The ability to depart from traditional rational thinking typically takes place after the performer has learned to master the instrument to the degree that the movements have been automated or embodied. Another group of free improvisers, for example, Mazen Kerbaj, however, never learned a musical instrument in a traditional manner and started to play their instruments with unique sounds from the beginning [124, 147]. It is often the case that we are able to do something automatically if we are willing just to let go and not desperately trying to understand everything rationally. Success in performing Free Music is often more determined by the courage to free ourselves from traditional conventions than by acquiring additional expertise. Taking this step can be very difficult for accomplished musicians after having perfected the ability to adhere to a given set of rules. For someone who has not yet mastered traditional music to a professional degree, this is often much easier because at this stage one is still used to committing mistakes. And then, of course, we have to accept that there is no given right and wrong in Free Music. Different concepts of embodiment can also be helpful to find new ways to perform an instrument. A good example is independent arpeggio control, a technique that has been mastered by Evan Parker [194, pp. 10–29]. Instead of thinking in notes, Parker works with independent hand movements of the left and the right hands as a new way of embodied instrument performance. By using asymmetrical movements for both hands, e.g., a 2-step pattern in the left hand verus a 3-step pattern in the right hand, one can create a complex movement that results in an overall pattern that only repeats itself every six steps:

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One can also play the left and right finger movements in an alternating, interlocking pattern:

The technique is then similar to a two-player xylophone technique practiced in Africa, where two performers play interlocking patterns on a single xylophone with different numbers of steps to create complex perceptual structures [283]. The resulting perceptual pattern is complicated because the ear cannot discern which player plays which line and the auditory system forms a single auditory stream. In contrast, the actual patterns of movement are not that difficult to perform when the players know how to interlock their lines. Also in the case of the saxophone, the ear only hears one resulting complex pattern and cannot discriminate what the individual left and right hands do. The complexity of the patterns can be further improved by gradually varying the left- and right-hand patterns independently from each other. By using intuitive methods, such as the Deep Listening method, the performer can control these changes subconsciously in a parallel approach—meaning a linearized single line of thought does not restrict these movements. The voice can be used as another independent parameter and so can the embouchure. There are two distinct types of saxophone embouchure: the traditional one, where the lower lip is rolled over the teeth, and a modern one frequently used in jazz, where the lower lip is rolled toward the front. Using the latter technique, the performer can use the lower teeth to touch the reed for further sound modifications as another independent control. By changing the lower lip pressure on the reed, the register can be changed independently from the hand movement. This technique works well with a bassoon reed, where a sub-register can be played below the regular one. The sub-register does not produce fundamental notes below the regular saxophone range, but the timbre changes categorically toward a darker, raspier sound. The regular saxophone reed is ideal for the independent arpeggio control technique because the reed frequency automatically follows the resonator frequency. Other tone generators, for example, those of brass instruments, do not follow the resonator that easily and have to be better adjusted by the performer. When using independent arpeggio control one should keep in mind that the human brain is not able to readily decompose complex timbral patterns. In perceptual multidimensional scaling techniques, it was found that test participants usually only observe two, at most three, independent parameters, as was shown in a study by Grey [115].

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4.3.3 Enauditioning Situations Imagining certain situations can be a tool to enhance intuitive, creative processes, and thus they play an essential role in the Deep Listening concept. William Osborne [206] discussed the role of folly in Pauline Oliveros’ work arguing that it would support critical thinking. When co-teaching with Pauline, she would use the silly instructions in the Sonic Meditations as a method to foster the students’ out-of-the-box thinking abilities. The playfulness in these instructions is a great tool to put conventional rules to the test. When following the silly instructions of Horse Sings From Cloud (1977) or King Kong Sing-A-Long (1977) in Oliveros [199, pp. 21 and 24], the first thought is often that they do not have a serious quality. However, playing with the silliness in these pieces soon lets you put other things to the test that are considered to be serious in our culture. You soon realize that some of these things can hold up to the test of seriousness and other conventions are just silly when you think about them in a serious way. Take again the Teach Yourself to Fly example. The instructions to let the voice sound naturally will get the performers to think. They will ask themselves what it means to “sound naturally” and whether we can or even want to sound unnatural. From my involvement with the Deep Listening community, playing with silliness in musical compositions benefited me in the following ways: 1. as a way to question existing conventions 2. as a method to learn to fly freely through improvisations (Since it is silly you do not have to worry about doing everything right.) 3. as a form of protest against the musical establishment 4. as a simple way to facilitate humor in music 5. as a method to foster communities through humor 6. as a way to free yourself from cultural expectations.

4.4 Listening and Understanding 4.4.1 Background In addition to our intuitive listening practice, we can also listen to sound in a formal way. We typically do not listen to the features of a sound per se but attend to the underlying meaning. Sounds usually convey meaning. We could care less if a predator’s steps on the grass sound dull or bright as it approaches us. Instead, we focus on extracting relevant information from the perceived sounds to resolve the situation. For example, we try to determine the location of the predator, and we want to know what type of animal is approaching us. The analytical process of deciphering the sound leads to understanding the acoustic scene. Of course, we sometimes operate in an acoustic environment without consciously understanding it, for example, when we quickly step out of the way of a cracking

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branch reflexively or when we engage in the intuitive, creative music approaches that were discussed in the previous section. In most cases, however, acoustic communication consists of the sender, an acoustic channel, and the receiver. The sent acoustic sign can be intentional, like a series of spoken words, or unintentional, as was the case of the approaching predator. Much literature exists on intentional acoustic communication, for example, language learning programs and music theory treatises. However, behind the official code of music, there is often an unintentional meaning as interpreted by the receiver based on her individual background. I remember when performing with Triple Point, Pauline just had received her V-accordion, a synthesizer with an accordion interface developed by the Roland corporation. One of the sounds Pauline loved was a sound that I immediately recognized as Roland’s “warm pad” trademark sound. This sound was trendy in 1990s pop music productions and made the Roland Corporation’s D-50 model famous. Not coming from this tradition, Pauline used the sound in her own context, but for me, it always instantaneously made the connection to 1990s pop music. This was the unintended meaning behind the intended sound. Pauline was great at neglecting specific popular music streams, and it was one of Pauline’s considerable strengths to ignore things that did not interest her rather than get upset about them. In 2007, when we were in San Diego to perform at the SIGGRAPH Conference [203], she acknowledged during our breakfast that she had never heard of Andrew Lloyd Webber. I am still puzzled to this very day to whether she really did not know his name or if it was just her way to say that she was not interested in his work.12

4.4.2 Sound Quality and Assigning Meaning An interesting method to assess the aspects of sounds that are not clearly determined through an agreed-upon theoretical framework, such as a spoken language or formal music, stems from product sound quality assessment. Blauert and Jekosch conceived a two-step approach for sound-quality judgment that provides interesting affordances for informal music traditions [25, 26]—see Fig. 4.3.13 As the first step of this approach, an acoustical character profile is established, often through the help of experts. The character profile contains the descriptions of the sound properties relevant for the specific task like the sound pressure level of a car engine, the balance of the engine sound’s different frequencies, as well as the sounding roughness and sharpness produced by this motor. Based on this character profile, the adequacy of the sound of car engines can then be judged by a consumer group in the second step. The judging group often consists of non-experts, and their judgment can be assessed in a psychophysical test. It is important to reiterate here that the concept of sound quality is not used to judge the quality per se but rather facilitates judgments in the context of a particular task. Consequently, the method can be applied to different 12 Personal 13 The

communication, August 5 or 6, 2007. term informal is used here for music practices without a formalized music framework.

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4 Deep Listening Reference Set Contains profiles of target values for relevant quality features

Character of a sound Specified by feature profiles

Quality Judgment Comparison, Appraisal, Quality Judgment normally produced by users

Fig. 4.3 Sound-quality evaluation process according to Blauert and Jekosch [25, 26]

tasks in music, and the adequacy of a saxophone sound might change fundamentally depending on the musical task. Just imagine an angry free jazz solo within the black power movement, with the sound of Paul Desmond’s smooth alto saxophone, or cocktail jazz with Peter Brötzmann’s power play concept. An early study by Grey [115] is an excellent example of how to compute an acoustic character profile for wind instruments. Grey presented human listeners with pairs of recorded sounds from 16 different orchestral instruments and asked the listeners to determine the perceived difference for each possible instrument pair on a scale from 1 to 30 where a rating of 30 was given for a very similar sounding pair, and a rating of 1 indicated a very different sounding pair. Grey then plotted each instrument on a three-dimensional map in a way that the average perceived difference between all tested pairs was preserved as the distance between the pairs—see Fig. 4.4. In a subsequent step, appropriate acoustical parameters were determined that represented each of the three dimensions—finding that Axis 1 predominantly aligned with the spectral energy distribution, Axis 2 aligned with the on- and offset patterns of partial tones, and Axis 3 correlates with other temporal patterns.14 Grey was able to postulate that these three acoustical parameters were the main factors that people use to discriminate the sounds of orchestral wind instruments. For the discrimination of the grafted saxophone variations, the second and third dimension, are most likely of greater importance than the first dimension, since the fixed saxophone resonator provides a similar frequency spectrum for the majority of the instrument variations. Later studies also looked into the preference settings for different acoustical parameters when judging the sound of musical instruments. Nykänen et al. [197] determined that listeners generally preferred a full-tone saxophone sound. In a similar

14 This

was accomplished using the multidimensional INDSCAL scaling method.

Dim I (spectral energy distribution)

4.4 Listening and Understanding

67 V3

1

V2

C2

0.5

FL

V1 S2

C1

0

S1

FH

1

O1 S3

0.8

BN

O2 EH

TP

TM

0.6

Dim II (on-/offset 0.4 synchronicity)

1 0.8 0.2

0.6 0.4 0

0.2 0

Dim III (temporal patterns)

Fig. 4.4 Outcome of Grey’s (1977) experiment. The graph shows the perceived distance between all presented instrument pairs as an average of the 20 participating listeners. The instrument identifiers are as follows: Bassoon (‘BN’), Clarinet 1 (‘C1’), Clarinet 2 (‘C2’), English Horn (‘EH’), Flute (‘FL’), French Horn (‘FH’), Oboe 1 (‘O1’), Oboe 2 (‘O2’), Saxophone 1 (‘S1’), Saxophone 2 (‘S2’), Saxophone 3 (‘S3’), Trombone (‘TM’), Violoncello 1 (‘V1’), Violoncello 2 (‘V2’), and Violoncello 3 (‘V3’)

study, Nykänen [196] showed that the listeners preferred if the saxophone player produced an ‘a’ vowel-type sound instead of an ‘e’ vowel-type sound. However, we need to be clear that this assessment is context dependent. It is well known, for example, that the classical saxophone sound ideal represents a much darker, softer and mellower tone than found for an average jazz or rock saxophone player [53]. However, a fixed standard does not exist for popular music, and the sound of cool and West-Coast jazz players like Lee Konitz and Paul Desmond was not too far from the classical sound ideal. The sound quality method is also adequate to show judgmental differences between different groups of people. Hugo Fastl’s research showed significant differences between Japanese and German test participants when judging the acoustic profiles of bell sounds [90]. Based on their studies in Zen Buddhism, John Cage and Pauline Oliveros sought to unify the perceived object with the observer to avoid a judgment bias of the perceived sounds [206]. This assertion is actually in line with modern scientific psychological insight. The auditory events, which represent what is being heard, are a product of our brain functions and can therefore not be separated from the human observer. The auditory events are shaped by the way our brain has been trained using auditory neuronal circuits that adapt to external sound stimuli. A listener who has been trained in classical music will be able to hear out many individual instruments, while someone else may simply perceive a holistic object. When Western musicians hear a Balinese Gamelan Orchestra, they typically hear the ensemble perform on the Western scales they have been trained for and not the Balinese scales that are actually

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intended [148]. The perceived scales merely sound slightly out of tune. As Western musicians, we are not able to identify the interval of a neutral third that exists in the Egyptian [253, p. 249] and Iranian [260, p. 9] music tradition, because we think categorically and map the perceived interval to either the minor or major third we know. We can also observe ourselves to make quick decisions about whether we like or dislike something without adequate reasoning. It appears that this strategy is often advantageous for our survival rather than to wait and gather supporting facts. Often these intuitive decisions have merits, but it can also become challenging to rectify them if they turn out to be wrong. In the context of Deep Listening practice, it is essential to use an open framework to judge the adequacy of sounds for different musical contexts. In contrast to traditional music practices, a general expectation of how instruments should sound is avoided. The idea of a non-judgmental approach to music does not necessarily suggest that the performer or listener is indifferent to the sounds presented, but rather emphasizes the rejection of an absolute sound ideal that everybody has to adhere to. The Deep Listening performer should be open to non-traditional thinking instead of just applying music conservatory-defined values. It is often difficult to completely disconnect from existing traditions because the sound and performance ideals for each instrument have been carried along and developed across generations using a conservatory approach. Performers who develop a sound ideal outside this mainstream thinking often have had a hard time getting accepted. Take the brilliant work of Ornette Coleman for example, whose free jazz ideas clashed with the current culture until his ideas were finally acknowledged [140, pp. 50–52]. Also within the Deep Listening community, many provocative ideas have trouble being accepted outside the community, especially if the performers do not possess traditional skills on their instruments. Part of the problem is the general lack of an underlying sound quality framework that lets people judge new developments in a more open way than the culturally-biased music conservatories allow. As the name “conservatory” already suggests, its primary purpose is to conserve existing traditions, which is often important to maintain certain standards. A 19th-century symphony cannot be performed without players who master this style, but new works cannot be created if the performers only know how to master these standards.

4.4.3 Breaking Cultural Conventions It can be exciting and relevant to revisit cultural conventions using the concept of sound quality by judging their adequacy from new perspectives. Typically, we perceive the quality of events, e.g., the tuning accuracy of a flute performance, on a one-dimensional scale, but we can train ourselves to perceive a range of qualities by taking different cultural or personal perspectives. An excellent example of a cultural convention, seen as crucial in Western wind instrument traditions, is the articulation of each beginning phrase with the tongue. Beginners often do not articulate the tone with the tongue, for example, when per-

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forming on the recorder and it can sound just wrong, because of the frequency changes that come with the onset of the unarticulated tone. In traditional Japanese music, the tongue articulation is not a strict requirement, and the hichiriki can often be heard to change the pitch dramatically in the onset phase as was shown in Fig. 2.16. The different use and absence of tongue articulation already underline the cultural aspect of judgment. It is certainly not a universal rule that a missing tongue articulation leads to a negative judgment. Instead, this judgment often comes with cultural expectation. Within my saxophone experiments, I was able to observe cultural-based expectations when I started to perform the saxophone with a brass mouthpiece. Based on my familiarity with the classical trumpet sound, I expected a bright, bell-like sound, and spent much time to enrich the overtone spectrum even though I was fine with the duller tone of the regular saxophone. I also found it problematic that a saxophone with a brass mouthpiece is more challenging to play in tune than a trumpet because its bore is much wider. Unfortunately, one expects the instrument to be in tune like a trumpet because it now sounds like a brass instrument. It has been shown that the trumpet sounds more easily out of tune than other orchestral instruments when its sound is detuned to the same degree [107]. It took me much time to learn to free myself from my cultural expectations, and I tried to gain a more functional view of how each sound works best in the context of a given music piece. Concerning judgment, it is also essential to learn to judge sound from a different perspective since it is often difficult to judge one’s own live or recorded sound. Musicians often have a very positive or negative view of their own performance. It can sometimes help to explore a range of judgment biases when listening to one’s own music and the performance of others by taking the possibly most critical and then the most generous viewpoint. This method can help to find the imperfections of even the best music productions. For the latter, everything crucial is usually close to perfect, and everything else often has an astonishing level of imperfection. It is important to learn to listen in this way to make the critical features all work.

4.5 Creating and Adapting to Musical Situations 4.5.1 The Freedom of Shared Responsibility Improvising free music can be a liberating experience for the involved musician, who is no longer micro-managed by a band leader or bound to a written score. At the same time, one can no longer hide behind the decisions of a conductor, and each participant has to take shared responsibility for the group’s outcome. Listening into the ensemble on different levels is vital for a successful concert. The concept of focal and global listening can be useful to ensure not to miss an essential detail of the performance while keeping track of the overall sound experience. The performer’s responsibility starts with deciding to which extent she will perform intuitively, through an analytical decision process, or by shifting between both strategies. In most cases, it is useful to

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make the decision based on listening to the performance of other ensemble members. This largely also depends on whether one wishes to assimilate to or contrast with the rest of the ensemble. If the whole ensemble engages in a holistic, stationary sound texture and one wishes to participate, it probably makes more sense to intuitively go with it than to analytically think a strategy through which notes to play. However, if one feels that this soundscape is lacking musical tension and therefore going nowhere interesting, one might actively develop different strategies to break this inertia. Of course, one could also end up counteracting in an intuitive manner. The longer we study an instrument, the more we learn to automate. In the beginning, we have to translate each note into the right key combination and then focus on how to articulate it. Soon we learn how to key a note automatically. We then learn how to play phrases automatically and just have to think about how to bridge them. Once we are able to automate this too, we can start thinking within larger forms. We learn to think ahead. The same way a good sight reader learns to read a few moments ahead of the performed notes, a good improviser can be mentally ahead to foresee sounds that are expected to come. Then, one is no longer entirely unprepared to deal with occurring musical events. At a certain level of accomplished automation, we learn to mentally step aside as a performer and become a critical listener of our own automated performance. We then can mentally change the perspective and listen to the ensemble from different positions using global and focal listening strategies. When we listen to Pauline as an enthusiastic proponent of intuitive music performance, we have to keep in mind that she had many decades of musical experience. Her accomplished level of automation, for lack of a better term to describe her ability, was second to none. However, she too started learning the accordion traditionally by reading from music scores. When I started to learn to play my saxophone with a trumpet mouthpiece, I had to relearn my automation skills for this new instrument. It felt like revisiting all the learning stages I had passed as a recorder and saxophone student. I first rediscovered the six-year-old kid in me who is happy as a clam to get a single, usable tone out of the instrument. Later, I passed the stage I experienced as a high-school student where the instrument can sound good on a good day, and everything can fall apart on a bad day. Finally, I am back to the point where I can survive on a rainy day and start to focus working on a unique identity for this instrument. Intuition is vital in improvisation because we have to make decisions within a given time frame. Once we play something, it is out in the open, and it can no longer be revised like a pencil stroke with an eraser. This is another reason why it is so important to learn to enaudition scenarios. This procedure can serve us a virtual test bed for sonic material before sending it out loud. One should also keep in mind that our consciousness and awareness is delayed by about 80 ms [84]. Using an intuitive approach is typically faster than rational thinking [142]. On top of this, scientists have shown that rational decision making can be an illusion. Neuroscientific experiments have shown that the decisions can be detected using neuroimaging techniques up to 10 s before the subjects are aware of their own decisions [250].

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4.5.2 The New Virtuoso Performer A virtuoso is usually defined as a performer with outstanding musical and technical skills. We often measure the level of virtuosity by the difficulty of the performed work. We admire if the player can flawlessly play fast 16th-note cadences, and we praise performers who can compete with other virtuosos. An alternative view of a virtuoso player is as a term for someone who is very flexible in adapting to any kind of performance. After our performance in the Sonic Gym with the extended Deep Listening Band, Pauline told me that she thought that Jesse Stewart was one of the most virtuoso musicians she ever met: “Jesse is so good, he can play with virtually everybody and that is my definition of a virtuoso player.”15 Indeed, virtuosos like Jesse cannot only adapt to everybody they perform with, but they can also bring out the best in every fellow musician they interact with to make it a memorable performance for everyone. This includes performing with musicians across all abilities by accepting music making as a basic human right. In order to be prepared to adapt to new unknown musical situations, the Deep Listening virtuoso should be able to form her own judgments and not just uncritically adhere to existing conventions. Ideally, one would be able to draw from the concepts of focal and global listening and understand concepts that adhere to both intuitive and rational thought processes. When we speak of traditional world-class improvisers, we often refer to virtuosos who feel very comfortable in a specific scenario but do not really know how to apply their excellent musicianship outside this comfort zone successfully. We should remind ourselves that the true nature of improvisation is a method that allows us to adapt to unknown territory and situations quickly and not refer to the over preparedness to very confined, well-known scenarios. Improvisation can be seen as a general lifestyle rather than a technique restricted to music, e.g., see Nachmanovitch [189]. In the new context, a virtuoso is someone who can deliberately blend with or sonically segregate from an ensemble. It is someone who can follow others but can lead where necessary and desired. This requires an instrument that is sufficiently versatile to handle a large variety of musical situations. It needs to be loud enough to lead and soft enough to blend. It also needs to have an adaptable sonic texture to fulfill this task. Sometimes existing instruments like the saxophone can be challenged by the invention of new instruments and styles. Many centuries ago, the pipe organ was challenged by the gradual crescendo the newly introduced pianoforte could produce. As a consequence, the pipe organ was soon thought to be lifeless because it could not be played dynamically. The wind swell, the door swell, and the crescendo wheel were all subsequent inventions to meet this new challenge and make the pipe organ a competitive instrument again [36]. When Pauline, Doug Van Nort and I founded the trio Triple Point, Pauline had just begun playing a new instrument, a Roland V-accordion synthesizer that gets you virtually every sound based on physical modeling algorithms. The sounds were 15 Personal communication, Oct. 6, 2013. The concert was recorded and later released as a CD [74].

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excellent, and the synthesized accordion sounded like the real instrument. In retrospect, I think my limited sound palette on the saxophone got me into experimenting with all my different sound adapters that I will describe in detail in the next chapter. These adapters allow me to provide a large variety of sonic textures and dynamic levels within an ensemble to compete with the vast sound palette of electronic instruments. I appreciated that our Triple Point work would include a lot of Deep Listening practice but also went beyond some of the common traditions. Triple Point inspired me to investigate musical processes of internal diversity, because, within this trio, we departed from the idea that each of us would speak with one voice. Instead, each of us would produce many different voices across the course of an improvised piece. We listened to each other, but we also fought musically. We tried to find together a unison voice and then fiercely separated to do our own things or try to lead the rest. For me, it was like the microcosm of the world in a small encapsulated biotope. The best aspect of our trio work was that we hardly talked about our music. We did not negotiate our personal space, preferences, and views through verbal discussions, but instead, it was embedded in our musical dialogue. A verbal discussion of musical interactions was typically the last resort. For example, at one point Pauline expressed her concern that my saxophone was too loud. That does not mean that we would not discuss our music preferences in general or share music recordings we liked in particular, but it was not a common tool for us to discuss during a set, which direction the next piece should take or what we should avoid the next time. A scholar, Stan Chung attended our 2012 recording session at EMPAC. Stan’s background was performance studies and he came to write a dissertation about Pauline’s work [57]. Stan was surprised that we would not discuss our music during the session (nor did we in preparation for the session). Instead, we would only discuss technical problems, for example, replacing a microphone with a more suitable one or getting bigger sound monitors.

Chapter 5

Grafted Instruments

5.1 Introduction In this chapter, the use of different tone generators for the soprano saxophone will be discussed. These mouthpiece variations include the use of the saxophone neck as rim flute, a didjeridu adapter, a bawu free reed, a duduk reed, a bassoon reed, and a brass cornett mouthpiece (Fig. 5.1). The primary goal of utilizing these tone generators is to make the soprano saxophone a more versatile instrument were it sound and playability as was discussed at the end of the last chapter. At the same time, we inherit a number of different musical traditions from the original instruments, which we can adapt to the saxophone. These cultural ancestors can provide insight into various musical traditions that one can draw from. By using these mouthpieces of indigenous and modern instruments, one can connect better to these traditions than by just imitating these sounds on the regular saxophone. Yet, this hybrid approach also maintains a close relationship with the saxophone by generally providing the same fingering patterns and key combinations one is used to. We will use the term grafting to describe the process of fitting out a saxophone with another tone generator that was not initially intended for the saxophone. The term is borrowed from agricultural practice where it refers to growing the upper part of a tree on the roots of a different tree species. This is done to combine the advantages of both tree types for a better harvest, e.g., to equip a fruit tree with more resilient roots. We exploit the fact that the transition between a wind instrument’s mouthpiece and resonator is as clearly defined as the boundary between a tree’s root and stem systems. There is no doubt that a saxophone mouthpiece is an integral factor contributing to a saxophone player’s iconic sound. The size of the mouthpiece’s tip opening and its precise chamber geometry have a high impact on the performer’s sound, as does the mouthpiece’s material, so to a lesser extent. Gear lists of famous saxophone players’ mouthpieces and reeds have been compiled and distributed. While other instrumentalists often switch their equipment for different songs, saxophone players © Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2019 J. Braasch, Hyper-specializing in Saxophone Using Acoustical Insight and Deep Listening Skills, Current Research in Systematic Musicology 6, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-15046-4_5

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Fig. 5.1 Collection of grafted instrument mouthpieces for the soprano saxophone, top, from left to right: bawu reed with adapter, bassoon reed with adapter, wide-tip saxophone mouthpiece (Otto Link, 13*), cornett mouthpiece with adapter, narrow-tip saxophone mouthpiece (Rousseau); bottom: pocket didjeridu, and modified duduk reed

tend to stick with one mouthpiece for their instrument. Players will typically exchange their mouthpieces only if the performed genre requires a fundamentally different sound ideal, e.g., classical music versus jazz. Of course, saxophonists, who play different saxophones within the saxophone family, e.g., tenor and soprano saxophone, use different mouthpieces for each type of saxophone. However, I cannot recall a single concert in which the performer exchanged a saxophone mouthpiece for another one on the same instrument to change the sound quality of the instrument. Rock guitar players do this all the time and often change their instrument for another one of the same tuning for a song-adequate sound. I believe there are two reasons why saxophone players do not follow a similar practice. The main reason is that in our culture, saxophone players search for an iconic, recognizable sound. Fans often pride themselves on being able to identify their saxophone idols after a few played notes. This of course only works as long as the sound is always the same. This trend clearly goes beyond musical aspirations. The personalization of music has been heavily thematized since the Renaissance and has found its culmination in today’s selfie culture.

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The second reason is the belief that an instrumentalist can be easily confused by altered equipment. For example, the intonation of individual notes could be off as a result of the alternation. The modern saxophone player is a real specialist who knows his equipment to the highest level of detail, often practicing with an electronic tuner to learn to adjust the embouchure for each note finely. Changing the instrument to a different member of the saxophone family typically serves two purposes. The first one is that the performed piece simply requires it, for example, within a classical music or big band score. For the same reason, big band saxophone players often play the transverse flute or clarinet as a side instrument. The second one relates to small jazz ensembles, e.g., a jazz quartet, where the saxophone soloist changes the instrument for a few tunes to introduce a new timbral quality to prevent the sound of the ensemble from wearing out. It is very common, for example, for a tenor saxophone player in a jazz quartet with a rhythm section to switch to a soprano saxophone one or two times in a concert for a single song, while maintaining a clear overall emphasis on the main instrument, in this case, the tenor saxophone. Replacing the original mouthpiece of a wind instrument with another one has been attempted before. Eddie Harris equipped a trumpet with a saxophone mouthpiece and reed to overcome the embouchure fatigue to which brass instrument players are typically susceptible [273]. For comical reasons, Peter Schickele, aka P.D.Q. Bach, married a trombone with a bassoon reed and bocal to “utilize” on the disadvantages of both instruments [238]. Of course, the activities of Adolphe Sax should not be forgotten, who was a pioneer in both woodwind and brass instrument manufacturing. Sax made significant contributions to the bass clarinet [64, p. 17] and invented new brass instruments such as the saxotromba and the saxhorn [13]. Sax interchangeably used concepts for brass and woodwinds to create new instruments such as a brass bassoon [235] and of course the saxophone. Since the mid 20th century the main focus of developing new musical instruments has shifted from acoustical instruments to electronic music, and the latter provides an amazing range of tonal flexibility that is unmatched by acoustical instruments. However, unlike for other instruments, keyboard instruments and drums, in particular, the sound of wind instruments is still impossible to simulate by means of electronics. Consequently, electronic wind instruments like the Akai EWI and EVI and the Yamaha WX series do not share the same success electronic keyboard instruments and drums do. The main objective of grafting wind instruments was to see to what extent the timbral variety of a saxophone can be extended by changing mouthpieces while leaving the performer her familiar keyed resonator system. As in the case of agricultural grafting, where the stem of a young tree has to be attached to the root before the tree grows to fruit-bearing maturity, one cannot simply attach a new mouthpiece on a wind instrument and perform it without practicing. A primary focus of this project was to see to what extent the grafted instruments can compete with the original saxophone in terms of tonal range, balanced sound quality, and opportunities for extended techniques while providing new and unique sound characteristics. Based on the different sound generation mechanisms, the different instrument variations possess categorically different sound signatures for single notes, and they will also behave differently concerning transitions between notes and register changes. It turns

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sarrusophone Romantic Era Baroque

Boehm flute transverse flute

Renaissance Middle Ages

bassoon oboe

saxophone valved trumpet keyed trumpet

clarinet dulcian

cornett

recorder shawm

sheng

chalumeau

mouthorgan (gourd)

baroque trumpet

Horn w/ fingerholes

Egyptian brass trumpet

Antiquity bawu duduk Prehistoric (naturally hollow materials)

bone rim flute flutes

feili double reeds

single reeds

woodwinds

shofar

didjeridu

free reeds brass

Fig. 5.2 Evolution of musical wind instruments over time (y-axis) based on their main wind instrument category according to the von Hornbostel and Sachs’ wind instrument classification system (x-axis). Lines denote evolutionary connections. Squares indicate contemporary orchestral instruments, and a filled circle denotes other instruments. Filled squares indicate that an extended instrument family exists for this instrument, while other orchestral instruments are denoted by an open square. Only wind instruments pertaining to the grafted instrument concept are considered

out that one key component for success is the adaptation of the vocal tract resonances to the different types of mouthpieces. Figure 5.2 depicts the concept of grafting musical wind instruments in the context of the evolution of musical wind instruments. Since their invention, musical instruments primarily evolved within their primary classification category, although specific technologies like the Boehm system for the flute have been applied to other instruments as well. Aside from a few modifications, the evolution of all current orchestral wind instruments was finalized in the romantic era. A number of these instruments like the transverse flute and saxophone have been extended to complete instrument families to cover the whole range from bass to soprano instruments. A grafted wind instrument no longer belongs to a single instrument category because it uses a range of tone generators. Most of these tone generators cover a similar frequency range on the instrument so that one could speak of a group of siblings rather than an instrument family. For each instrument adaption, a brief section on the cultural history and developments will be provided, going back to our cultural beginnings as shown in Fig. 5.3. Then, a section on how to adapt each tone generator to the saxophone will follow. Each instrument section will conclude with a tutorial on how to play the instrument variation, including a fingering chart, exercises, and musical examples. In many cases, the musical examples are drawn from the tone generators’ originating musical traditions. We will then compare the sound and affordances of the instruments to each other in the following chapter, Circle of Sounds.

5.2 Historical Background on the Saxophone

77

Neanderthal, 250-40k ya

Hohle Fels Höhle, 40k ya

Denisova 280-30k ya

Bering land bridge 13k ya

Clovis Site (NM) 11k ya

Jebel Irhoud homo sapiens 300k ya Lucy homo erectus 2M ya

from Africa Pedra Furada 30k ya Australian Aborigines 50k ya Tasmanian Aborigines 40k ya

Fig. 5.3 World map showing the migration routes of early humans

5.2 Historical Background on the Saxophone For this book, it is important to understand that Adolphe Sax1 originally conceived the saxophone as a military instrument in 1840. He later filed a patent for the saxophone in 1846.2 Sax was one of the pioneering instrument makers who specialized in new brass manufacturing techniques that arose in the early 19th century. With the inventions of the brass instrument valves (Heinrich Stölzel, piston valve, 1814; Joseph Riedlin, rotary valves, 1832) and the Boehm system (1832) for wind instruments, many new wind instruments were conceived that required metal fabrication. These new instruments gained further momentum with newly developed mass production techniques during the industrial revolution. The original workshop of Adolphe Sax still exists today as the Henri Selmer Paris Company.3 The shape of the saxophone was derived from the ophicleide, a keyed bass brass instrument invented in 1817 by Jean Hilaire Asté of France. The saxophone is in some ways an ophicleide with a mouthpiece borrowed from the clarinet. A critical component of the saxophone’s success is due to its extension of the Boehm system, which Boehm initially designed for the transverse flute. Theobald Boehm replaced all finger holes with keys to provide a better spectral balance and to make the flute louder [31, 32]. Finger holes would have been impractical for every saxophone except the soprano and sopranino saxophones. Without keys, the required tone hole spacing would have been too wide for the human hand, and the tone holes would have been too small to produce an optimal sound.4 1 Sax’s

legal name was Antoine-Joseph Sax. Patent #3226, March 21, 1846. 3 Adolphe Sax’s workshop was bought and continued by the Henri Selmer company in 1929. 4 The Hungarian tarogato is very similar to the soprano saxophone but made from wood mainly using finger holes. 2 French

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As discussed in Chap. 2, the main difference between the saxophone and the clarinet is that the saxophone has a conical body that overblows into the octave, while the clarinet has a cylindrical body that overblows into the twelfth. The saxophone and clarinet differ fundamentally in sound. The cylindrical body of the clarinet rejects the even partial tones and emphasizes the fundamental frequency of the instrument, whereas the conical body of the saxophone produces even and odd partial tones. The conical body of the saxophone also deemphasizes the fundamental frequency, and it is usually a higher partial tone than the fundamental that has the highest energy. This results in a sound rich in higher harmonics. Due to the wide body and the inclusion of keys instead of finger holes, the saxophone is by nature louder than the clarinet. This makes the saxophone a perfect instrument for military brass bands. In the symphony orchestra, however, the saxophone was never able to replace the delicate sound of the clarinet. Sax presented his instrument to the French army early on Kastner [144, p. 292]. There the instrument was positively reviewed, especially for its carrying loudness and blending timbre. Simply put, the saxophone was a money saver by enabling a small band to sound like a large one. The saxophone was also quickly adopted by military bands in Belgium, the Netherlands, Great Britain, and the USA [44, p. 216]. Sax knew that his instrument would only have success if it came with the proper conservatory training. In 1846, Jean Cokken was appointed as the first saxophone teacher at the “Gymnase Musical,” a military band academy [64, p. 22]. Sax also made important connections to the classical music scene, and Hector Berlioz wrote a favorable review of the saxophone in the “Journal des Debats” on June 12, 1842 [17]. Berlioz was also the first composer who wrote for the saxophone in a symphonic context by including six saxophones in the third but lost, version of his Chant Sacré [48, p. 299]. As a solo instrument, the saxophone was first used in conjunction with piano accompaniment. Early on, pieces were written for the saxophone, including: • • • •

Jean-Baptiste Singelée, Concerto, Op. 57 for Tenor Saxophone and Piano, 1858 Jean-Baptiste Arban, Caprice et Variations for Alto Saxophone and Piano, 1860 Jules Demersseman, Fantasie sur un theme original, 1860 Jean-Baptiste Singelée, Solo de Concert (No. 1), Op. 74 for Alto Saxophone and Piano, 1860 • Jean-Baptiste Singelée, Caprice, Op. 80 for Soprano Saxophone and Piano, 1862.

With the use of the saxophone in the context of chamber music, the saxophone quickly earned a dual reputation as an intimate companion for classical music in addition to its original role as a “bullroarer” in military music. Even nowadays the sound of all saxophone mouthpieces tends toward one of these two ideals. Interestingly, the use of the saxophone as an orchestral solo instrument did not take off from the beginning. The main works for solo saxophone with orchestra were all written after Maurice Ravel gave the instrument a prominent role in his 1928 composition Bolero. These works include:

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• Alexander Glazunov, Concerto in E  major for Alto Saxophone, 1934 • Frank Martin, Ballade for Alto Saxophone and Orchestra, 1938 • Heitor Villa-Lobos, Fantasia for Soprano (or Tenor) Saxophone, Three Horns, and Strings, 1948. Earlier solo saxophone works with the orchestra, e.g., Claude Debussy’s Rapsodie pour Orchestre et Saxophone, 1901, and Vincent d’Indy’s, Choral varié, Op. 55, 1903, are not as frequently performed as the concertos listed above. In the 1920s, the saxophone had already established itself in jazz as a solo and big band instrument. Like the trumpet and the trombone, the saxophone was easily accessible through its widespread use in military bands. From nearly the beginning, two different saxophone performance styles evolved in jazz. In the so-called “hot” style, the saxophone was played loud and expressively with much vibrato. The player often played vertically, focusing on the performance of chord cadences. Sidney Bechet, who started his career in 1911, was one of the first renowned soloists of the hot style. In the “cool” style, the saxophonist’s tone is leaner, using little vibrato, if any. The cool players focused on the development of linear melodic lines leading to the horizontal performance style. On average, they played smaller musical intervals between notes than the average hot player would choose. The cool sound was defined long before the introduction of cool jazz, and the performance of Frankie Trumbauer, who started his recording career in 1924, preceded the modern saxophone style by many years [149]. Of the three most prominent tenor saxophone players of the 1930s, the big three, two were affiliated with the hot style (Coleman Hawkins and Ben Webster), while the third one, Lester Young, preferred a cool style [121]. Over the years, the saxophone did not lose its versatility, and the instrument played a critical role in the development of free jazz—a movement that was spearheaded by saxophonists Ornette Coleman (alto) and Albert Ayler (Tenor). The free-jazz community not only promoted intellectual and musical freedom but was also closely linked to the African-American Civil Rights movement (1954–1968). In stark contrast, the saxophone later became the voice of consumerism, and the sound of Kenny ‘G’ Gorelick’s saxophone could be heard in every department store starting in the late 1980s—leading to much criticism, e.g., Washburne [279]. At the same time, one can argue that the saxophone then became so expressive in film music that it almost exploited emotions for the sake of consumption. I assume that the typical reader of this book does not need instructions to play the regular saxophone, and consequently, I am leaving out sections for general playing instructions, daily exercises, and example songs for the standard saxophone. Those readers who wish to learn the traditional saxophone are referred to the vast, existing collection of teaching methods for this purpose, including the books by de Ville [272], Londeix [164], and Müller-Irion [186].

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5.3 The Sarrusophone 5.3.1 Historical Background The sarrusophone is an instrument quite similar to the saxophone except for its use of the double reed, see Fig. 5.4. The instrument was patented in 1856 by the French instrument maker Pierre-Louis Gautrot. Gautrot [105] named this instrument after the French bandleader Pierre-Auguste Sarrus, who had some influence in its conception. It is currently disputed how significant Sarrus’ contribution actually was. Theories range from crediting Sarrus merely as the instrument’s namesake, crediting him for having the original idea [9, p. 286], to making him the sole inventor [8, 166].5 The third theory is not very likely, given that Gautrot is the only inventor listed on the French sarrusophone patent #28034 from Sept. 6, 1856.

Fig. 5.4 Traditional soprano sarrusophone, left, in comparison to the sarrusophone-converted soprano saxophone bore with bassoon reed and adapter, right

5 Baines

[8] and also Jolivet and Richart [137, 42] incorrectly state that Sarrus filed the patent in 1856, while the patent lists Gautrot as the sole inventor.

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Aside from using a double reed as a tone generator, the sarrusophone is so similar to the saxophone in form and key work that Sax filed a lawsuit, however with no success, claiming that Gautrot violated his saxophone patent from 1846 [139, p. 84]. In this context, it is interesting to point out that the first academic saxophone instructor, the previously mentioned Jean Cokken was trained as a bassoon player, which has a similar fingering system to the saxophone [64, p. 22]. In contrast to the bassoon and the saxophone which both overblow at the octave, the clarinet overblows at the twelfth, which requires a fundamentally different fingering system. The hiring of Jean Cokken suggests that the familiarity with the fingering system could have been more important than the acquaintance with the single-reed mouthpiece like that of a clarinet. Nevertheless, Sax’s lawsuit was thrown out with the argument that the different tone generator made the sarrusophone fundamentally different from the saxophone. Since double-reed instruments, like the oboe and the bassoon, generally have a conical body, the differences between the sarrusophone and traditional double-reed instruments are less pronounced compared to the differences between the saxophone and the clarinet. The main innovation of the sarrusophone was the use of a brass body with keys to replace the traditional wood body with finger holes. However, Adolphe Sax introduced exactly these two features five years earlier than Gautrot, when he patented a keyed brass bassoon in 1851 [155, 235]. Given this ironic twist of history, all Gautrot really brought to the table was to shape the keyed brass body in the curved form of a saxophone, introduce many different sizes, and to call it the sarrusophone. However, it is now well known that the way the resonator is curved has a limited influence on the instrument’s sound. This fact adds to the irony of the feud between Sax and Gautrot. Like the saxophone, the sarrusophone also comes as a family with a unified design ranging from the sopranino to the contrabass sarrusophone. In contrast, the oboe and the bassoon are constructed quite differently from each other. Currently, only the bass versions of the sarrusophone are still in frequent use. These instruments are so large that the average human hand could not cover the widely spaced keyholes making the use of keys a necessity. A brass construction is also much easier to manufacture for instruments this large size. The main difference between the sarrusophone and the saxophone is the way the reed or mouthpiece is mounted on the instrument and the fact that the bore of the sarrusophone is much narrower when the instrument is compared to a saxophone of the same length. For example, the bore width of the bass sarrusophone, which has a range comparable to that of the bassoon, is similar to the bore width of Sax’s brass bassoon. In contrast, the baritone saxophone is much wider. The key work of the sarrusophone is also slightly different from the saxophone. For example, the sarrusophone has three separate octave keys, while the saxophone has only one, even though there are no acoustic reasons for this. The key alterations rather result from different building traditions between the Sax and Gautrot companies. The rothphone, also known as sarruxophone, is a variation of the sarrusophone. The instrument is similar to the saxophone in resonator form and key work but maintains the bore diameters of the original sarrusophone [139]. The earliest widespread use of the sarrusophone was as a military-band instrument. In the United States, the Conn factory built sarrusophones for a brief period for the

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U.S. Army starting in 1914 [137]. Similar to the replacement of clarinets with the saxophone, the military was looking for instruments that were easy to march with but louder than the oboe and the bassoon. In orchestral works, the bass and contrabass sarrusophones are still frequently in use. In 1881, Camille Saint-Saëns requested two sarrusophones or contrabassoons in his Op. 69, Hymne à Victor Hugo. Paul Dukas used a sarrusophone in the piece The Sorcerer’s Apprentice, which was part of the well known Disney movie Fantasia from 1940. Jazz musician Sidney Bechet played a bass sarrusophone in The Sheik of Araby (Victor matrix BS-063785). A brief soprano sarrusophone solo can be heard in the song Humpty-Dumpty Heart performed by the Kay Kyser big band in the 1941 movie Playmates. The last two cases are the only known use of a solo sarrusophone in traditional jazz and exemplify the limited use of this instrument in jazz.

5.3.2 Construction The wide bore diameter of the soprano saxophone is the biggest hurdle to repurposing it as a soprano sarrusophone. Just above the bell, the saxophone is about 5 cm wide, whereas the sarrusophone has only about half this diameter at this location. Anthony Baines [8, p. 166] lists the following reed sizes for the sarrusophone in millimeters:

Soprano Alto Tenor Baritone Bass Contrabass (E or C)

tip width 9 13 15 17 19 22

blade length 20 25 27 32 40 44

distance to first wire 50 55 60 70 80 85

According to this table, the reed dimensions for the soprano sarrusophone compare to the dimensions of the oboe reed, which also has an approximate blade length of 20 mm. However, when mounting an oboe reed to a soprano saxophone, the coupling between the reed and the wide resonator is so weak that the frequency of the reed does not follow the frequency of the resonator when the keys are closed or opened. An English-horn reed does not solve the problem either, whereas a bassoon reed is large enough to properly couple to the soprano saxophone resonator. This makes sense when you consider that the bore width of a soprano saxophone matches in absolute terms the bore width of a tenor sarrusophone. The result is a treble instrument that possesses the timbral qualities of a tenor instrument. With a standard bassoon reed, the upper range of the soprano saxophone does not extend as far into the high notes as the regular soprano saxophone. It might be possible to improve this by designing a special double reed for the soprano saxophone, but I never attempted to do this. The adapter, to mount the bassoon reed onto the saxophone, can be soldered from brass. Figure 5.5 shows the construction schematic and dimensions for the adapter. A mini butane gas-powered torch is recommended for the soldering of brass parts. A typical electrical soldering iron is too weak to heat the brass parts to the required

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5

16

35

14

20

Fig. 5.5 Construction schematic for the bassoon reed adapter. All dimensions are given in millimeter. A 5/8 -wide brass tube, approximately 16 mm, is used to connect the adapter to the truncated saxophone neck. On one end of the tube, a round brass plate (16 mm in diameter, 0.8 mm in thickness) is soldered. Centered in this plate is a 5-mm hole to hold a small 5-mm tube, which is soldered in place to hold the bassoon reed. The 5-mm tube is sanded down if it is too wide to fit the bassoon reed comfortably. Both tubes I used were approximately 0.5 mm thick, but the thickness can vary as long as one keeps in mind that the outer diameter is what counts for the bassoon-reed mount and the inner diameter is what counts for the saxophone-neck mount

temperature, and the solder will not connect properly to these parts when using such a device. It is important to read and follow the safety instructions before using the torch if you are not familiar with this tool. I use lead-free solder and water-soluble paste flux that is marketed for soldering fresh water pipes to minimize the health risks. As a first step, I cut the brass parts to the dimensions given in the schematic shown in Fig. 5.5. The round plate can be cut using a hole saw on a drill, but it is important to remember that you will have to measure the inner diameter of the hole saw for the correct outer diameter of the round brass plate. The hole saw will always cut a center hole, which can be used to fit the 5-mm tube for the bassoon mouthpiece. Just make sure the initial center hole does not exceed 5 mm in diameter. After the pieces are cut, they can be soldered together. One has to take care not to undo the first solder joint when soldering the remaining part to the other two, e.g., by using a heat sink. To avoid this mishap, I drilled a 14-mm deep and 6-mm wide hole into a brick (fire retardant) as a mount. Then, I soldered the 5-mm pipe to the plate first and placed the soldered piece, with the tube first, into the 6-mm brick hole. This way, both parts can no longer move against each other when the objects are reheated to solder the 5/8 pipe segment to the plate. The adapter can be placed on top of the saxophone neck, but the latter has to be shortened to keep the instrument in tune. I cut the neck so that the bassoon reed tip has the same distance from the saxophone neck joint as the regular saxophone reed tip when in tune. Then, the adapter is placed on the shortened saxophone neck after fitting the cork by sanding it down or replacing it with a new, thicker cork layer. The adapter can be moved in or out like a standard saxophone mouthpiece to tune the instrument. The finished adapter can be seen in Figs. 5.6

Fig. 5.6 Soprano saxophone converted into a sarrusophone

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Fig. 5.7 Bassoon-reed mounts for the soprano saxophone. Top: Brass adapter assembled with reed. Center: Brass adapter disassembled. Bottom: Adapter glued from PVC

and 5.7. A simpler glued adapter can be made from a plastic tube, a plastic plate, and a 5-mm tube. This version does not require any soldering skills—see Fig. 5.7, bottom.

5.3.3 General Playing Instructions The bassoon reed requires a standard double reed embouchure, where both lips are placed over the teeth. Saxophone players who are only used to performing with a single reed will need to build up their upper lip muscle strength over time in order to develop an embouchure that can support high notes. The lip pressure on the bassoon reed is lower than is required for the regular saxophone reed, and the reed is also inserted further into the mouth than a regular saxophone mouthpiece. The articulation is similar to the standard saxophone practice, and the required air supply is also on the same order. The fingering combinations are identical to the standard saxophone. The low notes are relatively easy to reach, but the tones easily squeal if the reed is too dry, the embouchure is too tight, or the reed is not inserted deep enough into the mouth. The bassoon reed needs to be moistened for at least 15 min by dipping the tip in a glass of water or another water container. Soaking a new reed into water overnight is quite common. If the reed is sterilized from time to time, in mouthwash or alcohol, and properly dried afterward, it can last much longer than a regular saxophone reed. The bassoon reed can be self-built following the instructions provided to advanced bassoon players. For a quick adjustment, the assembled reed can be sanded to make if softer if handled carefully. The embouchure tension can be easily controlled by making sure the instrument is in tune when the distance between the bassoon reed tip and neck joint is identical to the distance between the regular saxophone reed tip and the neck joint for the tuned saxophone. The soprano saxophone with the bassoon reed can be played relatively easily up to A5 . With some practice, the sounding note C6 , or a higher note, can be reached. However, it is not easy to control the pitch in this range, because the possible bending range is huge. The bassoon reed can also be played with a subtone sound, but the reed needs to be taken further out of the mouth

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in this case. An interesting effect can be accomplished by releasing the embouchure tension in the low register, which will produce a very raspy sound.

5.3.4 Songs We will begin the song section with the traditional gospel blues tune Keep Your Lamp Trimmed and Burning. The song is a good example for learning to play the wide-bore sarrusophone expressively.

The next song is a jazz tune I wrote in the 1990s, when I still played tenor saxophone. It is a ballad that also serves the sarrusophone well, and the slow tempo provides many opportunities to study tone control.

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The next piece is a classic Turkish composition by Tanburi Büyük Osman Bey (1816–1885) titled Hüzzam Saz Semai.

Given the large tonal bending range and the dark timbre, the sarrusophone is an interesting instrument to perform classical Turkish music. The sarrusophone can be seen as a natural extension of the traditional double-reed instruments zurna and mey (the Turkish name for the duduk). In contrast to the single-reed orchestral clarinet, which is now often used for classical Turkish music, the double reed has a very long tradition in the Turkish culture. The clarinet, on the other hand, was only introduced in the 1820s by Giuseppe Donizetti after he was named Instructor General of the Imperial Ottoman Music at the court of Sultan Mahmud II. Giuseppe Donizetti was the older brother of the Italian opera composer Gaetano Donizetti.

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The underlying Hüzzam maqam scale of Hüzzam Saz Semai includes a number of pitch alterations from Western scales. In order to understand how the latter work, one needs to understand that the octave on the Turkish maqam system is divided into 53 equidistant steps called commas. The comma concept is traditionally explained on the Turkish oud, a fretless type of lute, and the oud plays a similar role in explaining and setting tuning standards in Turkey as keyboard instruments do in Western music. The value of a comma is 23 cents. The closest interval to the Western equally-tempered whole tone is the 9-comma interval (204 cents)6 : The closest intervals to the Western semitone are the intervals of 4 commas (91 cents) or 5 commas (113 cents). One of the basic scales of the Turkish maqam system is the Bûselik maqam:

The numbers above each note state the deviation of this note in cents from the Western equally-tempered notes.7 The numbers below each bracket show the interval in commas. The song Hüzzam Saz Semai is based on the following variation of the Hüzzam maqam:

−

−

Again, the numbers above each note show the deviation in cents from the equally tempered scale and the numbers below the brackets show the interval steps in commas. The note B  is a comma below the regular B, and the note E  is 4 commas below the note E (slightly higher than the note E ). The note F is 4 commas above the regular F. Most tones of the Hüzzam are not that different from the Western system with the exception of the tone F . The 12-comma interval results in a tone that is 28 cents below the equally tempered tone F . The 13-comma alternative for the 3-semitone step interval, would have only been 6 cents short of the equal tempered minor third. Despite the unusual flat signs for E  and B , the F is the note to watch out for in this scale. It needs to be intonated about an eighth tone (25 cents) lower than the regular F . This note should not be mixed up with a quarter tone, which would have been 50 cents lower—but it resembles more of what we are used to from certain blue notes in jazz. From studies on Indian music practice, we know that performance practice can deviate significantly from theory when intonating notes [158, p. 94ff.]. Listening extensively to Turkish maqam performances and playing along with recordings might be the easiest way to learn to intonate of the individual scale notes correctly. The last piece of the sarrusophone section is not necessarily something I recommend at the beginner stage. For the more experienced player, the oboe excerpt from Johann Sebastian Bach’s Brandenburg Concerto No. 2 is a suitable exercise to work 6 1200 cents · (9/53) 7 When

cents.

= 23 cents. an octave is divided into 1200 equal steps, an equally-tempered semitone equals to 100

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on the higher register. Since this work is widely known, it can be a helpful exercise to learn to play the notes of the upper register in tune.

5.4 The Cornett 5.4.1 Historical Background The animal horn appears to be the ancestor of all modern Western brass instruments. Drilling a bore into a wood branch or forming a resonator from metal is not a trivial task. Therefore, it comes as no surprise that the earliest wind instruments were made from hollow natural materials such as a hollow vulture bone for the stone-age flute, the termite-scalloped tree stem for the didjeridu, and the animal horn as an ancestor of modern Western brass instruments. An animal horn is probably the best example of a natural conical object that can be easily turned into a conical resonator. The shofar, an instrument deeply rooted in the Jewish tradition, is a ram’s horn that is cut at the pointed end to create a rim that serves as a mouthpiece [1]—see Fig. 5.8. It is the oldest citation in the Bible is in Exodus 19. In contrast to modern brass instruments, the shofar has no cup or throat to create a narrow channel intersecting the mouthpiece and the bore. The shofar is a natural horn without mechanical devices, like finger holes, keys, or valves, to change the pitch. Consequently, the only way to

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Fig. 5.8 Small shofar made from a ram’s horn (Isreal)

change the pitch is using the embouchure. The instrument can only produce tones within the natural harmonic series of the horn, and the shofar tradition focuses on the first three partial tones of the horn. It should be noted that the frequencies of the harmonic series depend on the natural aperture angle of the animal horn, for example, a kudu, or oryx horn, see discussion on Sect. 2.2.2. A shofar made from a ram’s horn typically requires a more elaborate process that involves drilling a long, cylindrical hole at the mouthpiece end, allowing to control the frequency positions of the overtones [181, p. 61]. Montagne describes a historical cornett from around 1890 that has a mouthpiece carved into the horn similar to a mute cornett—see Fig. 7.4 in Montagu [181, p. 71]. The nearly circular rim diameter of this instrument is 17.5 mm at the widest point, which is very similar to a curved cornett. The restricted with of a natural animal horn at the closed end could explain why the diameter of a typical cornett mouthpiece, which is traditionally made from horn, is much smaller then that of a modern trumpet. Later, animal horns were equipped with finger holes to allow further notes to be played. Some of the earliest known examples were instruments made from cow horns found in Sweden. Some of these instruments date back to the tenth century [8, p. 220]. Technically, it is not very difficult to extend the concept of the shofar to build a cornett, a brass instrument with a conical resonator, typically made from wood and finger holes. The Renaissance cornett should not be confused with the modern cornet. The latter is written with only one ‘t’ and is a valved brass instrument similar to the modern trumpet but with a slightly conical bore. Already 40,000 years ago, our ancestors know how to carve finger holes into a vulture bone to make a flute. A similar procedure can be easily applied to an animal horn or wood. The cornett is made out of wood with a separate mouthpiece carved from animal bone or wood— often by using a lathe. In the case of the mute cornett, the mouthpiece is directly carved into the main body of the instrument. For the straight cornett, shown in Fig. 5.9, that was widely found in Germany the bore is drilled out of a wood dowel with a reamer. The Italian curved cornett is carved from two separate halves that are glued together and wrapped with leather. A good overview of the history of the

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Fig. 5.9 Straight cornett (Moeck)

cornett has been written by Bruce Dickey [80] and by Hermann Moeck and Helmut Mönkemeyer [178]. Jeremy West and Susan Smith [285] developed one of the most comprehensive teaching methods for the cornett. Murray Campbell [50] studied the acoustics of the cornett among other brass instruments, and Bruce Haynes [122] cataloged historical cornetts according to their tuned pitches, finding a wide range of tunings. The most popular use of the cornett occurred between 1550 and 1650. A few factors can explain the rise of the cornett during the Renaissance. Firstly, polyphonic composition styles started to play an increasing role in the Renaissance, and, in ensembles, the cornett can be played together with the sackbut, a predecessor of the modern trombone. Together they cover a wide frequency range. Secondly, the cornett had much better diatonic capabilities than the natural trumpet. Using cross-fingering patterns and half-closed tone holes, the cornett can even be played chromatically. During this time, there was also an increased focus on profane indoor music styles. The upcoming Italian opera featured masters like Monteverdi, who frequently used the cornett in his works, and others [69]. A major disadvantage of the cornett had always been the difficulty of learning the instrument. Later, it became less popular because of two different developments. As an ensemble instrument, the cornett had to compete against the violin, which became increasingly popular. Violin makers like Guarneri, Amati, and Stradivari improved the instrument and matured it to a standard that still holds today. Furthermore, with the invention of the bass violin and the viola, a whole string-instrument family was born that was homogeneous in sound. Later in the 16th century, the bass violin was replaced by the violoncello. Even though tenor and soprano cornetts were built, a multi-range cornett family comparable to the string instrument family did not exist. Consequently, the string-instrument family became the foundation of the modern symphonic orchestra around the same time. A violin ensemble also blends better together than an ensemble composed of cornetts and sackbuts. In some ways, a violin is easier to play in tune than a cornett. For the violin, the accurate pitch depends on the finger positions on a fretless fingerboard, whereas the cornett requires active embouchure corrections to mitigate imperfections of the instrument concerning intonation and timbre. The lowest notes of the cornett are known for being notoriously too low in pitch. There is a famous episode in Italian music history that highlights the shift from using cornetts to focussing on string instruments in music ensembles. In 1657, Maurizio Cazzati (1616–1678), the musical director of San Petronio Basilica in Bologna instantaneously fired nearly the whole cornett ensemble to replace the longstanding performers with violinists [81, 241]. This move is seen as the prime example

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to explain the transition of the Italian orchestras from a brass-instrument base to a string-instrument base. Aside from having a preference for one or the other instrument type, there are rational arguments for selecting the violin family to provide the foundational sound of the modern orchestra. Firstly, as stated before, it is easier to play the violin in tune and blend the sounds of the individual instruments into a fused sound image. This became important at a time when the size of the orchestral body grew continuously. Secondly, the violin is a true chromatic instrument, whereas the cornett is still an extended diatonic instrument. Except for the open strings, the violin has a very similar tone quality for every note, and it is not more difficult to learn all flat and sharp notes than the notes of a fundamental diatonic scale. With the cornett, on the other hand, the instrument is based on a diatonic scale—often D major. While the cornett can be played chromatically, some of the sharp and flat notes require complex fingerings, including half- and cross-fingerings. These notes are often difficult to play in tune and naturally produce a timbre that is quite different from the timbre of the instrument’s diatonic base. Playing music in various and changing musical keys became very common just around the time the cornetts were replaced with violins. Also in its leading role as a solo brass instrument, the cornett was replaced entirely over time, starting in the 17th century. The bright ‘ray of sun’ sound of the cornett, as Mersenne [171] described it, was soon produced with the clarino trumpet, a natural trumpet without valves and finger holes. The clarino or baroque trumpet is about twice the length of a modern trumpet so that a diatonic scale can be played in the highest range, the clarino range, of the instrument. The idea to include the cornett as part of the trumpet tradition is not always popular among contemporary cornett players. However, one needs to consider in this discussion that the cornett had similar acoustic signaling functions as the horn, the bugle, and the trumpet. In fact, the last known official use of the cornett, before it disappeared temporarily in the mid 19th century, was to send signals from a city tower in Lübeck, the so-called tower playing or German Turmspielen [81, 118]. Joachim Christoph Mandischer (1774–1860), who was the last tower player to hold this position, frequently climbed up the tower of the city of Lübeck to play acoustic signals with his cornett. This tradition came from the critical practice of acoustical signaling which was part of the public life for many centuries. In this context, post horn signals announced the arrival of long-distant carriages; trumpets were used to emit military signals, and church bells provided the time to farmers working in the fields. Like requiring a license to use radio frequencies today to prevent unauthorized use of communication technology, a brass player had to be certified in former times to avoid the misuse of horn signals. Harm could have been done by sending horn signals in an unauthorized way because people relied on the credibility of this information. Almost every musician had to be accredited by the guild system until the 19th century, and brass players were typically part of the officer guild, which was not the case for most of the other musicians. Overton [207, p. 62] describes the official status of the cornett players in detail. The portability of the brass instruments that produced loud and identifiable tones distinguished its role as signaling instrument from the other

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instruments. Even though these signaling traditions, which started with Egyptian and Roman practices, are no longer relevant in military and civil communication, the sound is still heard in military parades and ceremonies, shining a special light on the brass instrument family to this day. Maurizio Cazzati dedicated a number of pieces to the baroque trumpet, after abandoning the cornett. One of his pieces will be discussed later in this section as study exercises for the saxophone-based cornett. The clarino trumpet was also very difficult to perform, and its highest range soon exceeded the upper range of the cornett. The typical trumpet parts of Cazzatis’ work do not surpass the tone A5 , but the baroque trumpet part in Sebastian Bach’s Brandenburg concerto reached high notes of G6 , a fifth higher than the typical the upper range of the cornett (D6 ). Although the clarino register of the baroque trumpet naturally produces the belltype timbre of modern brass instruments, the instrument was tough to handle for the high notes. Playing the highest notes required an extraordinary embouchure, a skill that was nearly lost later in the 19th century [34, p. 30]. To make things worse, the higher natural overtones did not always match the frequency of the desired diatonic scales. A number of tones had to be corrected with the embouchure to sound in tune. Nearly all modern replicas of the baroque trumpets use additional vent holes to make it easier for the clarino players to reach these notes and play them in tune. Such vent holes did not exist in historical instruments, speaking further to the excellent skills of the clarino trumpet players of the 17th century. As previously noted, the baroque trumpet can only be played diatonically in the highest octave, and it cannot be played chromatically at all. It, therefore, comes as no surprise that this instrument is only used in the second of the six Brandenburg concertos, as Bach was known at the time to lead his ensembles through many different musical keys. The original concert pitch Bach used to write the Brandenburg concerto is disputed [223]. The Freiburger Barockorchester recorded the second Brandenburg Concerto using the French Baroque Tuning that is based on a 392-Hz concert pitch. It is a whole tone below the standard concert pitch and likely the historically correct pitch [21, p. 32]. The invention of the keyed trumpet by Anton Weidinger around 1790 solved the main problems of the baroque trumpet. The keyed trumpet typically had three or four keys, which allowed the performer to play the instrument chromatically. Unlike the finger holes of the cornett, the keys were not arranged diatonically. Instead, the keys shifted the natural scale of the trumpet by a given interval: e.g., semitone, whole tone, or minor third. The modern trumpet uses a similar interval arrangement for its valves. Also, the material and shape used for the valved trumpet are much closer to those of a baroque trumpet than to the cornett. Although the valved trumpet is only about half the length of a baroque trumpet, it shares its fundamental design based on a narrow cylindrical brass bore leading into a flared bell. Despite the excellent demonstration of the keyed trumpet in Haydn’s trumpet concertos, the keyed trumpet was soon replaced with the rotary-valved trumpet which had been invented around 1813 by Heinrich Stölzel [22]. One of the reasons the valved trumpet was favored over the keyed trumpet was the fact that the sound on the valved trumpet always radiates from the bell, while the sound of the keyed trumpet radiates in large part from the keyholes. Unwanted timbral changes can accompany the latter.

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5.4.2 On the Use of the Saxophone as a Cornett Using the soprano saxophone as a brass instrument was my first foray into exploring adaptive mouthpieces. Looking back into the reasons why I started to use the saxophone as a brass instrument, I cannot even say for sure what triggered me to try this out. I think, much had to do with general curiosity and the desire to break away from the fatiguing effect of the soprano saxophone’s typical timbre when played over the duration of a full concert. Earlier, I made the soprano saxophone my sole instrument, because I felt that it had a unique set of affordances but spent too much of its existence as a side instrument to the alto and tenor saxophones. Steve Lacy, Sidney Bechet, and to some extent Dave Liebman, were the only exceptions to this rule. In May of 2010, I ordered an entry-level trumpet mouthpiece and built an improvised adapter from a curtain rod and a copper tube at home to connect the trumpet mouthpiece to my soprano saxophone—see Fig. 5.10, bottom. The trumpet mouthpiece can be heard on my Sonic Territories DVD as an effect [37, Track 8]. Later, I learned to use it more proficiently. My brass-instrument study soon became a love-hate relationship. It took me many years before I started to create a sound I found acceptable. At the same time, I was too determined just to let go. Initially, I was not happy with the dull sound as the wider saxophone body attenuates those higher harmonics that are emphasized by the trumpet’s narrower bore. A good friend of mine who is into early music, David Griesinger, suggested to me to use a cornett mouthpiece instead. I immediately pursued this idea and built an adapter for a commercial cornett mouthpiece—see Fig. 5.10, top. The cornett has a similar resonator length to the soprano saxophone, whereas the trumpet bore is more than twice a long (148 vs. 69 cm) even though its lowest commonly played tone is only sounding a major third lower (E3 vs. A3 ). The cornett also has a conical bore similar to the soprano saxophone and uses finger holes instead of valves. Although I was delighted that the cornett mouthpiece instantaneously produced a slightly richer overtone spectrum,

Fig. 5.10 Top: Cornett mouthpiece (Jeremy West, Monk Instruments) mounted to a soprano saxophone using a custom-built adapter. Bottom: Early trumpet mouthpiece adapter

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I immediately felt the despair this instrument imposes on beginners. It was not difficult to imagine why this instrument fell out of use after the invention of the trumpet valve. Even though the cornett has a unique sound, with a very balanced, bel canto-style character when played by masters such as Bruce Dickey, William Dongois, or Jeremy West, the road getting there is tough and thorny. At some point, I realized that if Theobald Boehm had been a cornettist rather than a flutist, he might have invented an instrument that would have looked very similar to a soprano saxophone but with a cornett mouthpiece. Similar to the Boehm flute, the saxophone is fully equipped with keys instead of finger holes. It has a lot of special keys so the instrument can be played chromatically with ease. Like the Boehm flute, the saxophone with a cornett mouthpiece is louder than the traditional cornett. Boehm increased the sound pressure level the flute produced by using a wider bore shape and by creating larger tone holes now covered with keys. In contrast to the baroque transverse flute, which was inversely conical shaped, the Boehm flute has a cylindrical bore. Also, the soprano saxophone bore is wider than that of a cornett, it possesses a bell, and the instrument uses keys instead of finger holes. The introduction of keys also allowed Boehm to place the tone holes based on acoustic considerations rather than based on the strict ergonomic requirements of finger placement. Both the Boehm flute and the soprano saxophone use a metal body instead of one made of wood. For all these reasons, I claim that I am playing a Boehm cornett. In this context, it is also interesting to note that Boehm never modified the blowhole of the baroque flute and also in my case, I am using a traditional, unaltered cornett mouthpiece. Over the years, I have always been very impressed by the guts, Theobald Boehm had, to reinvent and relearn his instruments starting at the age of 38 after he had already established a career as a flute soloist [32, p. XXIV, Translator’s Introduction by Dayton C. Miller]. The tuning of the Boehm cornett is interesting as it becomes a transposing instrument in natural B if played above the saxophone body’s resonance frequencies. This practice helps to emphasize the higher partial tones of the produced sound—see discussion in Chap. 2 on p. 2.3.1. The original cornett, however, came in different tunings as the concert pitch had not been standardized yet. In the current terminology of early music, the saxophone-transformed Boehm cornett is an nontransposed instrument tuned in A = 415 Hz, which is nowadays the common concert pitch for baroque ensembles.

5.4.3 Construction Building a saxophone mouthpiece adapter for a cornett mouthpiece is much simpler than learning it to play. The adapter can be easily made from a wood rod. Cherry, for example, is a commonly used wood for wind instruments that is easily available. The rod should have a diameter of approximately 25 mm and have a length of about 50 mm, depending on the tuning as shown in the schematic of Fig. 5.11. At one end, a small hole needs to be drilled for the cornett mouthpiece, and, at the other end, a larger hole needs to be made for the saxophone neck. The exact

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14

8.5

47

21

26

Fig. 5.11 Construction schematic for the cornett mouthpiece adapter made from a cherry wood rod. All dimensions are given in millimeter. An 8.5-mm hole was drilled to hold the cornett mouthpiece, a wider 14 mm or 9/16 hole connects to the saxophone neck

dimensions depend on the saxophone neck and cornett mouthpiece dimensions the adapter needs to fit. Personally, I am using resin cornett mouthpieces made by Jeremy West, who continued the famous workshop of Christopher Monk. Monk was a pioneer in revitalizing the cornett movement in the 20th century. Jeremy West’s mouthpieces have worked well for me and are very inexpensive.8 I am not concerned about using historical materials since the traditional cornett was never made from brass either. For the Jeremy West mouthpiece, it was sufficient to drill an 8.5-mm hole to hold the mouthpiece directly, without using cork or the traditional thread. I have been using my adapter for a number of years without observing leaks. It is vital to protect the wood from moisture, for example, by using linseed oil, which is a traditional finish for woodwind instruments. Other stains can be used as well, but hazardous chemicals should be avoided since the mouth comes in contact with the instrument. For readers interested in using a trumpet mouthpiece, I would recommend either truncating the throat of a regular (plastic) mouthpiece or buying a trumpet-type mouthpiece for a cornett. The latter can be purchased from Christopher Monk instruments. Both mouthpieces can be fit into the adapter shown in Fig. 5.11 by adjusting the diameter of the smaller hole.

5.4.4 Embouchure The embouchure for the cornett-equipped mouthpiece is basically the same as the embouchure for the traditional cornett.9 In addition to this book, I recommend studying the cornett literature, as standard teaching methods can be directly applied to the Boehm cornett. One of my favorite cornett teaching methods, both for its didactic qualities and its thoroughness, is the teaching method of Jeremy West and Susan Smith [285]. 8 See:

http://www.jeremywest.co.uk/christopher-monk-instruments.html [last accessed 07/20/ 2018]. 9 I bought a straight Moeck cornett in 2016, finding that it performed very similarly to my soprano saxophone with cornett mouthpiece but was much more difficult to hold. So I abandoned practicing it.

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As with any other brass instrument, the tone of the cornett is produced by buzzing the lips. In contrast to modern brass instruments, where the mouthpiece is positioned at the center of the lips, cornettists tend to place their mouthpiece sideways, often positioning it midway between the lips’ center and one of the corners. A few professional cornett players, for example, Andrea Inghisciano, even place the mouthpiece directly in the corner of the mouth. By positioning the mouthpiece sideways, players can avoid setting the upper and lower rim edges of the mouthpiece directly on the red part of the lips. Since the red parts of the lips are vulnerable, the upper and lower rim edge should ideally be placed outside of these. Further, the ring muscle cannot correctly support the embouchure if the mouthpiece is placed directly on the lips because in this case the muscle would act outside of the mouthpiece rim where it has little or no effect on the embouchure. Since the cornett mouthpiece is much smaller than the modern trumpet mouthpiece and also has a much narrower edge, avoiding the mouthpiece-rim placement on the red parts of the lips poses a very particular problem to the cornett. However, this problem is not unheard of for trumpet players either. The best solutions to this problem are either to place the mouthpiece sideways as discussed, to roll one lip (typically the lower one) under the other lip, or to use a combination of both. Personally, I place my cornett mouthpiece at the lateral center of my lips. This works best for me, because my regular saxophone mouthpiece is centered too, and the muscles have been built up this way. In addition, this position preserves some of the similarities between the brass and double reed embouchures, since the latter is always played in the center of the lips. Brass players are divided into downstream and upstream players. In the first case, the area of the upper lip inside the mouthpiece is larger than the area of the lower lip. This way, the air stream is focused downward. For upstream players it is the opposite case, the lower lip covers a larger area within the mouthpiece than the upper lip, and the air stream goes upward. For the downstream embouchure, predominantly the upper lip vibrates while the lower lip mainly rests, and the opposite is the case for the upstream embouchure. Reinhardt [226] is a good reference for further details on this topic. According to the literature, the anatomy of the individual player determines which type of embouchure will work best. Most brass players including myself are downstream players. It can put a lot of strain on the lips if the mouthpiece is placed against the mouth with a lot of pressure. While this can help to reach high notes, the ideal embouchure does not apply much pressure to the lips. In their teaching method, West and Smith [285, p. 8] also distinguish between a wet and a dry embouchure. The lips are kept very moist in the wet embouchure approach by using saliva or lip balm. A dry embouchure can give a better hold to the mouthpiece. The latter can easily slip with a wet embouchure when pressure is applied. I, therefore, follow Jeremy West’s personal practice and also use a dry embouchure for my cornett mouthpiece. The smaller the area of the lip that vibrates within the mouthpiece, the easier it is to reach high notes and to excite higher partial tones of a sound. Here, the upper (downstream embouchure) or lower (upstream embouchure) edge of the cup can be used to fixate the lip, especially if the cup has a sharp edge. The position of the

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mouthpiece should be steady and not vary with the pitch. If the vibrating part of the lip is too small, the lip muscles no longer control the lip tension, a case that should be avoided for obvious reasons. The angle between mouthpiece and lips has a substantial effect on the tone and the ability to reach high notes. I slightly angle the instrument further downward to reach the highest notes with a clear sound. In my own experience, the soprano saxophone needs to be held higher than would be the case for the regular saxophone. I actually hold the instrument at such a high angle that I can no longer use the neck strap. This does not pose a problem with some practice because the soprano saxophone is relatively light. In contrast to the traditional cornett, the saxophone also has a thumb rest. Historically, brass instruments have also been played with an embouchure where the fleshy part of the lip is inserted into the cup to vibrate, which is known as “Einsetzen” in German. While this technique can help to produce a sound quickly, it most likely will not produce satisfactory results in the long term. This type of embouchure leads to quick fatigue, and it is also tricky this way to control the pitch of the tone. By adjusting the vocal tract properly, as discussed in Sect. 2.5, the lip vibrations can be coupled to the resonator, so the fundamental frequency automatically follows the fingered notes. In this case, it is then no longer necessary to articulate every single note.

5.4.5 Exercises The following items need to be considered when training the embouchure: Clear tone with upper harmonics: A clear tone with a sufficient amount of higher harmonic content should be the primary goal when developing a proper embouchure. Especially in the beginning, the tone can be very noisy, with an almost flute-like quality. Another typical problem is the lack of upper harmonics in the tone, making the sound very dull. These two problems are much more challenging for the cornett than for the trumpet or the modern cornet—if they exist for those at all. The bore of a modern trumpet is twice as long as that of a cornett although both instruments have a similar tonal range. The trumpet also has a much narrower bore along its entire length than the cornett. Therefore, the trumpet bore filters naturally out the buzzing noise to a much higher degree and also naturally provides a spectrally-rich sound. The transition from the cornett to the modern trumpet is an excellent example of Benade’s claim that wind instruments were optimized at the beginning of the 18th century so they could be played more easily [16]. Training the embouchure can reduce the noise that accompanies the harmonic sound of the cornett over time. To some degree, it is also tolerated in a professional cornett performance, and one has to keep in mind that the instrument’s sound differs from the modern trumpet fundamentally. With the cornett, one has to work extremely hard to excite the higher harmonics. To achieve a brighter sound, the energy of the higher partial tones can be enhanced by either increasing the blowing pressure, because the tone generation mechanism is non-linear, by training the muscles, and by reducing the area of the

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vibrating lip tissue. The latter appears to be one of the reasons why many cornettists position their mouthpiece sideways. If the lip is rolled in too much, the generated sound appears to be duller. Finding a good lip position, where the sound demonstrates the right amount of brightness, is not easy. Endurance: Gaining the ability to play over a longer duration in time is a challenge for every treble brass instrument. Here, it is critical to build up the ring muscle to maintain the embouchure. Especially in the beginning, the brass embouchure will likely not last as long as for a moderate regular saxophone mouthpiece. A lot has to be done to train it. A widespread training exercise is to play long ascending notes, starting from the lowest note, in chromatic or diatonic intervals. Each tone should be held for about 5 s, with a 5 s rest afterward. The player should go up as high as she can, and then take a rest and start from the beginning. At a certain skill level, the lip muscle training can be accelerated by continuing to hold the lip tension over the 5 s rests during the whole exercise. It is important to practice every day. Practicing twice a day is even better to keep the short-term muscle memory active until everything sinks into the long-term memory. Taking breaks during the practice helps to maintain the embouchure. It is crucial to avoid force and unnecessary pressure of the mouthpiece against the lips. Especially the high tones can take a huge toll on the embouchure. The embouchure can be maintained much longer if the instrument is practiced at lower dynamic levels, for example, by playing mezzo-forte instead of forte. The sound generation process of brass instruments is non-linear, and a brighter tone, with more energy in the upper harmonics, is generated at higher dynamic levels. Unfortunately, this also wears the lips out quickly. Accurate tuning: A wide range of frequencies can be produced with each key combination—this is both a blessing and a curse. On the one hand, it allows the performer to intonate each note correctly, but, on the other hand, each note needs to be intonated correctly. In fact, the possible frequency range within one fingered note is so wide that the instrument can be played in B or in natural B. As stated previously, I decided to play my Boehm cornett in natural B because, in this case, the articulated notes are above the resonator frequency, which makes it easier to excite the higher harmonics for a brighter sound. Using a tuning in natural B, the lowest notes easily intonate too low, and the correct intonation should be practiced with a tuner as needed. Reaching the high register: Playing the highest notes when practicing to extend the high register can crush the embouchure in a very short time. Even a single high note, played with brute force, can accomplish this. It is more helpful to play those notes in the high register that can be reached comfortably. With some patience, the range will extend itself from there without having to force the high notes with the wrong technique. I often play the highest note I am targeting, currently the note G6 , only once per training session to get a feel for the embouchure and vocal tract formation while avoiding a forced termination of the training session on this note. The following exercise was the most helpful for me extending the high register and build up my embouchure:

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Cornett Warm-Up 6 8

The exercise can be continued to the highest reachable note. If the highest note cannot be reached after two or three tries, it is advisable to leave it there and to avoid playing this note during the remaining practice session. In other words, I recommend playing the highest note you are working only for a brief moment every day. Practicing these notes strain the embouchure, and ruining the embouchure this way has a detrimental effect on extending the high register. A few features make the Cornett Warm-Up exercise really useful. Firstly, the higher notes that strain the embouchure alternate with lower notes that help to preserve the embouchure. Secondly, it is a good exercise to learn to adjust the lip tension to register changes. Thirdly, and maybe most importantly, the sound of triads is very common in Western Music. This way, intonation problems can be heard out fairly quickly, in particular when matching the octave to the fundamental. When playing only adjacent notes, the tuning can easily drift off. For example, the highest notes can collectively sound too low. Concerning fingering combinations, I do not recommend using the side keys, D–F , to reach the high notes for the Boehm cornett. The reason is that the bore becomes very short and the instrument is also difficult to hold. Instead, I suggest the following fingering chart that I adapted from fingering charts for the traditional cornett:

For the lower notes, the regular fingering patterns for the saxophone can be used. I frequently use the side C-key of the right hand to finger the note C5 , the same way it is shown for C6 in the fingering chart. Being able to play a treble brass instrument in the very high range is an important, instrument-specific criterion. Especially trumpet players tend to compete with each other to determine who can reach the highest note. No other wind instrument puts the same scrutiny on this aspect, although it might

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be a topic for other instruments as well. One of the reasons Miles Davis developed his cool jazz sound was that he was told that he played bebop like Dizzy Gillespie, but an octave lower.10 So Miles made an art out of mastering the opposite of what contemporary trumpet players were targeting, playing smooth and soft in the lower register, a technique that is more challenging than it sounds initially.

5.4.6 Cornett Repertoire One of the first songs I learned on the Boehm cornett was Mille Regretz (A thousand regrets), a Renaissance work by Josquin de Prez (≈1450–1521). I transposed the piece down, so I could play the highest notes during my beginner phase, E5 .

10 Davis writes in his biography: “I asked Dizzy one day, ‘Man, why can’t I play like you?’ He said: ‘You do play like me, but you play it down an octave lower. You play the chords.” [73, p. 70].

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Another, song that is not too high is Jesus bleibet meine Freude [Jesus remains my joy—known as: Jesu, joy of man’s desiring] by Johann Sebastian Bach from the work Herz und Mund und Tat und Leben [Heart and mouth and deed and life] (BWV 147) from 1723. In this piece, the pipe-organ accompaniment plays the faster movement, and if you can get a hold of accompaniment, the song can sound very accomplished without requiring much technique on the cornett part.

After practicing for a while, several years actually, I finally got to the stage where I could play early clarino trumpet works. I became interested in playing sonatas by Maurizio Cazzati, the same composer who helped to replace the cornett with violins. Aside from their compositional quality, I enjoyed practicing his pieces because they were not too high, going only up to A5 . They are short, and, perhaps my favorite feature, the overall range is less than an octave. The lowest note is the C5 , so the piece can also be practiced an octave lower to spare the embouchure. I started with the first movement of La Zambecari.

and then continued to learn the third movement.

Over the years I was able to improve my embouchure so I could practice short excerpts of Bach’s Brandenburg Concerto No. 2. An interesting note is that Bach

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wrote this piece while having an engagement at the court of Koethen, where the concert pitch was most likely set to A = 392 Hz as was discussed on Sect. 5.3.1. This tuning is closer to the Boehm cornett’s concert pitch of A = 415 Hz than the modern concert pitch of A = 440 Hz. The following part is ideal to practice the high register key combinations that were introduced on Sect. 5.4.5.

On the opposite spectrum, I worked on improving my ability to play low and soft tones, engaging in a technique called whisper tone. The whisper tone is a quiet, airy tone that can have flute-like qualities. It is probably one of the very few techniques that are easier to perform on a cornett than on a trumpet. Practicing this technique can help to improve one’s tone control. I wrote the following example as an exercise to study this technique, mastered by trumpet players such as Eric Vloeimans, Ambrose Akinmusire, and Gabriel Johnson.

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5.5 Rim Flute 5.5.1 Historical Context The oldest found preserved musical instrument is the rim flute, shown in Fig. 5.12. The instrument is made from a vulture bone and is about 40,000 years old. It was found in the Hohle Fels Cave near Schelklingen in Southern Germany [60, 61]. Not only the instrument itself but also the cave it was found in is remarkable—see Fig. 5.13. In 2016, I had the unique opportunity to visit the Hohle-Fels Cave11 and measure impulse responses in the cave using a hand-held recorder (Zoom H2) and a starter clap—see Fig. 5.14. Surprisingly, the average T30 reverberation times obtained from these impulse responses are similar to those found for classical concert halls: 63.5 Hz 2.2 s

125 Hz 2.1 s

broken end at finger hole

250 Hz 2.3 s

500 Hz 2.2 s

1 kHz 2.2 s

2 kHz 1.8 s

4 kHz 1.5 s

8 kHz 1.1 s

finger holes rim flute edge

≈22 cm Fig. 5.12 Sketch of a 40,000-year-old flute found in the Hohle Fels Cave, now located in the Prehistoric Museum in Blaubeuren

Fig. 5.13 Main hall of the Hohle-Fels Cave in Schelklingen, Germany

11 Reiner Blumentritt, chairman of the Museum Society Schelklingen [Museumsgesellschaft Schelk-

lingen] was so kind as to give me a private tour through the cave.

Fig. 5.14 Impulse response measured in the Hohle Fels Cave

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1

0

-1 0

0.2

0.4

0.6

0.8

1

1.2

time [s]

Also, the dimensions of the cave, with a floor area of 500 m2 and a volume of 6,000 m , are within the range of smaller classical venues. Essentially, the 40,000-year old bone flute has been played in an environment similar to our most cherished performance spaces. A rim flute merely consists of a resonator tube—typically equipped with finger holes. The sound is then generated by blowing an air stream on the upper edge of the rim to create a jet stream. The jet stream itself creates a noise signal, which is turned into a harmonic sound through the resonator. It is amazing how quickly music developed from this relatively young first instrument. To highlight this, we can do a quick thought experiment. Lucy, the earliest known upright walking human ancestor, lived 1.2 million years ago [152]. Based on this, the time span from the first flute to today is only 0.033% of the entire time span of human culture as measured from the appearance of Lucy. If an average generation is estimated at 20 years, the period of 40,000 years only accounts for 2,000 generations, which is not a very long period for physical modifications to take place. It is safe to assume that the human auditory system has not changed much since then. When I visited the Hohle Fels Cave, I wondered what the music was like when its inhabitants played the flute during the Stone Age. It is remarkable that they left detailed traces, like bone flutes, that reveal certain aspects of their culture in great detail, while other aspects are totally unknown. We have no idea how their melodies sounded. Many cultural changes to come altered their traditions to the degree that we can only look back to the beginnings of our written documents. These documents have replaced oral history in Europe. We can speculate that there are universal aspects of cultural beginnings. Under this assumption, we can turn to other cultures that have managed to preserve their original traditions to a great extent with the expectation that we may learn more about the intuitive processes that form a culture. Both the Native American and the Australian Aboriginal music have great traditions in wind instruments which were also documented in written form soon after Western settlers discovered their rich cultures. Both cultures have a close affinity to nature and discuss how animal calls influence their music. In the tale “The Sound of Flutes,” Medicine Man Henry Crow Dog [67] tells the story how Wagnuka, a red woodpecker, instructs a young man to make the Siyotanka flute to court a girl by hollowing out a cedar branch [86, p. 3–9]. Conlon [62, p. 66] emphasizes the importance of imitating bird calls for the Native American flute, a tradition mastered by Doc Tate Nevaquaya and R. Carlos Nakai. The Australian Aboriginal didjeridu virtuoso David Hudson explains his connection to nature during his composition process [132, p. 35]: 3

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I get my inspiration from [nature]. For example, if I see a large bird flying in the air, be it a pelican, I imagine the pelican is using his wings, he’s floating and his heartbeat isn’t pumping very fast, he’s just gliding through the air. He’s soaring. [I] can imagine myself doing exactly the same rhythm as what he’s doing. And the amount of beats that his heart’s beating, [that’s] exactly how I imagine my style of didjeridu playing to be. I play like the pelican is flying. I follow his rhythm.

One of the main reasons the Australian Aboriginal and Native American music cultures are discussed in this book is that they open a window to the development of intuitive, nature-inspired practices for wind instruments. It should be emphasized that both the Native American flute and Australian Aboriginal didjeridu cultures are active, contemporary movements that have partly evolved from the historical traditions that this book focuses on. Another reason the Native American flute is of interest for this book is its dark and husky timbral sound quality that is in some way similar to the tone the saxophone rim flute produces. Rim flutes still exist today, for example, the Turkish ney (Fig. 5.15a), and the Native American rim flute of the Hopi Nation. The Japanese shakuhachi is also a type of rim flute, where the upper edge of the rim is formed to a sharp edge, often using a hard inlay material for the edge—see Fig. 5.15b. The modern orchestral flute is also played on a rim-type mouthpiece that is mounted on the side of the instrument so the instrument can be held in a transverse position. Most current Native American flute designs, with the notable exception of the Hopi rim flute, use a duct system to control the airflow (Fig. 5.15c), as is the case for the recorder (Fig. 5.15d). Compared to the European recorder, the Native American flute has an additional air chamber that precedes the duct. As of today, there is no known link between the Native-American flute and the stone-age flutes found in Europe. It is commonly believed that the modern human originated in Africa. From there, descendants started to move to Europe, Asia,

Fig. 5.15 Different types of flutes; a: Ney (Turkey 2016); b: Shakuhachi-type rim flute (2010s); c: American flute in a (High Spirit); d: Soprano recorder (Germany 1970s)

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Hopi

Navajo

Pawnee

Anasazi

Yuchi

Maya Aztec

Fig. 5.16 Map of North America highlighting historical locations of Native-American and Mexican Nations mentioned in the text

Australia, and the Americas 56,000 years ago or even earlier [264]—see Fig. 5.3. It is widely accepted that cold climate changes of the extreme phases of the ice age led to this exodus [100]. The main treks to Europe and Asia appear to have split at this time in a region in or around modern Turkey. According to the Clovis theory [92], the Native American population descends from these Asian migrants who traveled over the Bering Strait about 15,000 years ago. Studies have shown that glaciers bound up so much water during the last ice age that the sea levels sank by about 100 m, opening a land passage in the Bering Strait between Asia and North America. Initially, the migrants were blocked by glaciers in Alaska, but, with the decline of the ice age, the melted glaciers opened a passage toward the south through which the Americas were inhabited over time. New studies have shown that human migrants already set land on the Americas at least 32,000 years ago in Brasil [29, 116, 214, 280], presumably by people from Africa who traveled on a raft using the natural currents of the Atlantic Ocean [14]. Human traces of settlements that preceded the appearance of the Clovis culture have been found in Florida, Oregon and elsewhere [120]. It can be assumed that these sites were populated via South America. Unlike the populous indigenous civilizations of the Mayas (Mexico/Central America, c. 2000 BC–1697 AD), the Inca Empire (Peru/Chile, c. 1200 AD–1572 AD), and the Aztec Empire (Mexico, 1428–1521), the Native American civilization in North America was a decentralized system governing over sparsely populated land in a nature-bound lifestyle (Fig. 5.16).12 The oldest found Native American flute, belonging to the Anasazi tribe, dates back to 620–670 AD [10]. It was found in the Broken Flute Cave, which is now Navajo territory in the four corners area of Arizona, Colorado, New Mexico, and Utah. The Anasazi tribe developed the pueblo dwellings and lived in the four corner area from about 1200 BC to 1200 AD. The Anasazi people abandoned its cities around 1200 AD, presumably because of dry 12 This,

by the way, makes the Native American flute very attractive as one of the role models for the saxophone adaptions from a leading intuitive culture.

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climate changes that affected their agricultural success, or possibly because of the invasion of nomadic tribes like the Navajo people, who were traditionally hunters and gatherers. One of the current theories is that the Anasazi never vanished but dispersed into smaller tribes including the Hopi, who are also lived predominantly in pueblos. The Hopi culture is very interesting for the project described here because the Hopis are one of the few Native American cultures who use a rim flute instead of the typical North American flute with a duct-channel design—see, for example, Payne [210, inside front cover]. The Hopis also have a well-documented flute-ceremony culture that is worth studying [210]. The Hopi language is part of the Uto-Aztecan language family, and the Hopi culture shares a number of traditions with the Aztec culture. The Navajo culture has its own flute tradition, and R. Carlos Nakai, one of the most prominent Native American flute artists, is of Navajo/Ute descent [91]. The sound of the Native American flute serves many purposes. A very interesting tradition is the Hopi flute ceremony, a nine-day festivity that was held in August every two years (see [210], for details). Here, an ensemble of flute priests performed a collection of sacred flutes to ask higher powers for much-needed rain. The main areas of the Hopi in Northern Arizona are arid, and the main rainfall occurs in late summer after the flute ceremony is held. It is possible that this naturally occurring increase of rainfall inspired the Hopi in developing this tradition. The Native American flute is also used on informal occasions. The Yuchi Nation, for example, uses the flute as a romantic instrument to enchant and impress members of the opposite sex of the clan (see [252], p. 62). Music, in general, plays a substantial role in the social life in Native American culture, including victory songs, game songs, funerals, and other ceremonies—e.g., see Densmore [78], Speck [251] and others. A number of ceremonies aim to heal diseases and provide occult powers. According to Fletcher [94, p. 215], the Pawnee Nation had secret societies whose members would connect to the heavenly bodies for these purposes. Tirawa, the eternal father, who communicates via lightning, thunder, wind and rain, and the female evening star are considered the parents of the first human descendant. War songs were sung to support and remember tribe members on a war trail, and Frances Densmore describes how this tradition was adapted to support Native American U.S. troops deployed to Europe in WWI [78, pp. 64–66]. This support also included dreaming by the chief of the clan. In the Story and Song of the Deathless Voice, Fletcher [93, pp. 39– 44] reports an interesting legend of the Ma-Wa’-Da-Ni society where traveling tribe members heard the sung voice of an unknown person. Upon encircling the singer, they only found the skeletal remains of a deceased warrior and interpreted the voice they heard as his eternal spirit that was still among them. Other Native American songs are imitating the bird song such as the song of the wren [93, p. 53]. It appears that every song has a story attached to it with a lesson to be learned. In case of the wren, a priest followed the most joyful song of a bird and was surprised the smallest and least powerful species uttered it. He concluded that even the most insignificant members can find happiness. Densmore also statistically analyzed hundreds of Native American songs recorded on wax cylinders to find commonalities and differences among the practices of vari-

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ous nations [78]. Sung voice, drums, and the flute are the typical instrument in Native American Culture. Part of Densmore’s investigation was to determine how these cultures were connected by studying the similarities of their songs.13 She found that the Pawnee used the minor tonality (39%) more frequently than the major tonality (33%), with 14% of the songs lacking a third that would be needed to determine the tonality. Other studied nations14 slightly favored the major tonality (53 vs. 42%).15 In the studied pool, nearly all songs ended on the keynote or alternatively the fifth, and a large portion of the songs was written using pentatonic scales. Changes in rhythms within the songs were quite frequent, and 60% of the songs were melodic, while the remainder of the songs either had a harmonic structure or a melodic structure with a harmonic framework. Of all analyzed melodic progressions, about two-thirds were downward progressions and one-third upward progressions.

5.5.2 Mouthpiece Adapter No handicraft work needs to be done to play the saxophone as a flute. The soprano saxophone can be played as a rim flute on the regular neck of the saxophone, which is a common performance practice within the extended soprano saxophone repertoire.16 This existing method is often criticized for resulting in notes that are out of tune. I worked on a method that results in better intonation. I developed a new fingering chart that allows playing the saxophone rim flute better in tune, although this still requires considerable corrections through the embouchure. In the next section, we will also discuss how to extend the range of this instrument variation to over two octaves. The soprano saxophone can be played as a rim flute with any saxophone neck, but a straight neck is easier to play than a curved one. Some necks come with a rounded edge; however, necks with a sharp inside edge at the neck top are usually better for producing a clear tone. I should note that I worked on a couple of flute mouthpieces and adapters before I decided just to use the regular neck. I initially thought that I needed to extend the instrument to the length of the regular saxophone—measured from the reed tip to the bell—so it would be in tune with itself. I first started with building a shakuhachi-type mouthpiece, and, while I was able to produce sounds with it, I did not feel it was better than just playing on the neck, so I abandoned this idea. I also tried the mouthpieces of soprano and tenor recorders on the soprano saxophone. While it was easy to produce a few sounds with them, it was unworkable to play them over a range that spanned 13 See

Tables in Densmore [78, pp. 7–14]. pool of studied nations included the Chippewa, Sioux, Ute, Mandan, Hidatsa, and Papago. 15 It should be noted here that the categorization of the Native American songs in major and minor scales was done using Western music methods. This categorization does not necessarily reflect the original ideas of the Native American music culture. 16 E.g., see Jay Easton’s website on extended saxophone techniques: http://www.jayeaston.com/ Composers/sax_techniques.html [This site was last accessed 12/31/2017]. 14 The

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Fig. 5.17 Left: Flute adapter made from a soprano saxophone neck to extend the length of the instrument. Right: Soprano saxophone played as rim flute

more than a few notes. Besides, it was impossible to correct the tuning with the embouchure, so I discarded this idea as well. I also built an adapter from a second soprano saxophone neck to extend the length of the instrument—see Fig. 5.17, left. Although the modified instrument had the acoustical length of a regular saxophone with a saxophone mouthpiece, I had the feeling that the instrument did not intonate much better, and it was also more challenging to produce a good sound from the instrument. In the end, I chose just to use the original saxophone neck. I also liked the idea that the rim flute on the soprano saxophone was a found object that was “just there” and not specifically developed for this task.

5.5.3 General Playing Instructions Generating an initial rim-flute tone on the saxophone is relatively easy, but playing the whole instrument chromatically over a wide range will take some practice. The lips have to be formed to a round ‘o’, leaving a tiny round gap for the air stream to

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exit. The open end of the saxophone neck rests on the left side of the lips, so the air stream can be focused on the right inner rim edge of the saxophone neck—see Fig. 5.17, right. The easiest way to produce an initial tone is to keep the saxophone side keys for the regular tones ‘D’ or higher open. In the beginning, the tone will be noisy, and you will likely use too much air to sustain a long note. In fact, I used so much air at the beginning that I was getting lightheaded after practicing a few minutes on the instrument. Since the flute is an open/open resonator system—unlike the saxophone, which is an open/closed resonator system, see Sect. 2.2.1—the saxophone rim flute transposes in a very different way. It actually becomes an instrument in F . The upper register can be reached by increasing the blowing pressure and by readjusting the direction of the air stream. For the very high notes, the air stream has to be formed almost straight into the saxophone neck. The embouchure can be used to correct the pitch for each note, which is not possible for flute with an air duct like the European recorder and most Native American flutes. Over time, I developed the following fingering chart for the saxophone rim flute, provided in the transposed system:

The pitch for some of the notes has to be corrected for embouchure. Often it is easier to drop the pitch than to raise it, and the fingering chart takes this into account. In the beginning, I had a hard time reaching the notes below A4 (transposed notation), but over time I was able to extend the range to B3 by learning to enlarge my vocal

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tract cavity. Apparently, this is necessary to match the impedance to the resonator impedance to produce the low notes. Note that the fingering patterns are only identical to the saxophone fingering system between C5 and F5 —a range of a diminished fifth. Above F5 , the flute needs to be overblown into the high register and the notes transpose a whole tone down from the regular saxophone fingering systems. The first overblown notes, G5 to A5 , are relatively easy to reach, but it gets increasingly challenging to reach the higher ones. Also, the notes below C5 have to be transposed from the regular saxophone fingering pattern as indicated in the fingering chart. When fingering A4 , it sounds like a G4 in the transposed flute system. Descending from there, the notes all sound a whole tone lower than one would expect from the regular saxophone fingering. It should be noted that the overblown register can be extended below G5 . The overblown register creates a different sound, and switching between the regular and the overblown register can produce interesting musical effects. We can use the overblown register to alternatively play the tone G4 by taking the regular saxophone fingering pattern for the C4 . The fingering pattern for G4 given in the chart tends to sound too high and needs to be adjusted with the embouchure. Concerning tongue articulation, standard tonguing techniques can be used. Changing the vocal tract formation can be applied to change the timbre of the instrument effectively, and vocalization techniques can be used to enrich the sound. An interesting way to explain the vocal tract formation is to use a syllable model by viewing the tongue articulation as consonants and the sustained tones as vowels.

5.5.4 Daily Exercises My most helpful exercise on the rim flute was to sustain long tones. I started to focus on this exercise when I realized that I would only be able to produce something interesting from this instrument if I could hold the notes longer. I started to work with a stopwatch to measure the duration of each note. I worked my way from a few seconds up to 45 s for F5 . Most of the time I only practice F5 , as the training automatically applies to the other notes as well. Flutists often claim that long tone exercises help to increase lung capacity, but I doubt that this is true. Instead, I believe one learns to be more resourceful with the lung air reservoir by being able to focus the air stream on the rim edge better. Using this method, the accompanying noise is also substantially reduced over time. When reaching a duration of more than 30 s, the need for more oxygen adds to the problem of releasing air into the instrument. I started to read literature on unassisted deep diving, apnea diving, and learned that it is crucial to be relaxed, have an empty stomach and avoid heavy thinking, as the latter two processes require much oxygen [236]. For me, it became not only an excellent meditative exercise (avoiding thinking is not my forte) but also one where I could measure the success with a stopwatch. For this reason, I continue to practice this exercise even though I can now play the rim flute with circular breathing. I practice the following major scales daily, using the fingering patterns provided in the aforementioned chart:

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G major scale:

A major scale:

B major scale:

C major scale:

D major scale:

E major scale:

For musicians trained in Western music, exercising these scales helps to improve intonation because we are sensitized to the intervals of these scales. In particular, these exercises helped me to lower F5 when practicing the D-major scale and to lower B4 when practicing the G-major scale. Playing with other musicians, with backing tapes, or using a drone also helps to improve the intonation of the instrument. In contrast to the regular saxophone, the common rim flute vibrato is not accomplished by modulating the jaw but by modulating the diaphragm. It might also be useful to make an audio recording of the vibrato during practice, as the resulting effect might differ from what is expected and heard while playing.

5.5.5 Songs In this section, a number of traditional Native American and other songs are presented for studying purpose. Most of these songs are transposed so they can be easily played with the saxophone rim flute. I would have been keen to present flute songs for our ancestors in Western Europe while they were still living in caves and other early settlements but this tradition has been lost. The first song is a flute song from the Hopi Nation, which is part of the Native American song collection that Natalie Curtis archived [68, p. 659].

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The next example is taken from Julia M. Buttree’s book [47, p. 98]. The Hopi Snake Dance was notated from Victor Record 20043. The dance was recorded during a Hopi ceremony carrying the same name.

The song was accompanied by a dance of 12 priests with live poisonous snakes and served as a prayer to ask for rain. The next song is taken from the collection of Alice Fletcher. Fletcher’s fieldwork at the end of the 19th century was invaluable for the preservation of the Native American culture. The song, presented here, is from the Omaha Nation. It was sung at daybreak and deals with affection and consciousness of nature [95, p. 148, Song No. 88].

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The following song is an original flute song from the Yuchi Nation. It was recorded and collected by Frank Speck [252, p. 63].

According to Speck, the song is performed by aligning the melody strains, represented in each line, ad lib. The next song is taken from Frances Densmore’s book on the Chippewa Nation [77]. Densmore’s work appeared later then Alice Fletcher’s work, and she is also one of the pioneers in collecting and archiving many Native American song traditions. Many songs would have likely been lost without her dedicated work. The first song, Song of the Pipe, describes a tobacco pipe ceremony. Densmore witnessed this event in 1910 as part of a larger peace ceremony between the Chippewa and the Menominee Nations, who had been in a state of enmity before. The song was sung by a Chippewa member named Mec’kawiga’bau and is accompanied by a drum [77, p. 169, No. 69].

The following example is taken from the same Chippewa ceremony, also sung by Mec’kawiga’bau [77, p. 170, No. 70]. The song was accompanied by drums and

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directly preceded the drum ceremony in which the chief of the Menominee tribe was presented a drum as a sign of peace. The drum played such an essential role in the Chippewa culture that the term “drum religion” existed.

The next song has an entirely different cultural background. Etenraku [Music Brought from Heaven] is one of the most famous known traditional Japanese songs. It is part of the Gagaku theatre but is also often played as a wedding song. It is typically played by the double reed hichiriki or the flute ry¯uteki and accompanied by a small music ensemble.

Man Jiang Hong [A River of Blossoms] is a traditional Chinese folk song based on a 12th-century lyric poem by Yue Fei, a general during the Song dynasty. The tune is often performed on the xiao flute, an ancient rim flute that is thought to come from the Qiang people, a Chinese minority from Northwestern Sichuan.

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The next song is a short tune I composed in 2016 to match the sound of the saxophone rim flute.

Practicing on my saxophone rim flute, I spent some time imagining the sound of bird calls. I listed three that came to my mind below. They are not simulating actual, specific bird calls but represent the sound of imaginary birds: Imaginary Bird Song I:

Imaginary Bird Song II:

Imaginary Bird Song III:

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The last saxophone rim-flute song presented here was written for the rim flute with accompaniment from a didjeridu drone. The didjeridu, which was built as saxophone adapter shown in Fig. 5.1, was tuned to a sounding F (or natural C in the transposed system of the flute). I wrote and recorded this song to acknowledge Pauline Oliveros’ 49th day of passing, a date of importance for several cultures. The recording is placed in the virtual Dan Harpole Cistern. The original cistern, which was one of Pauline’s favorite recording spaces, has a reverberation time of 45 s at low frequency and is located in Fort Worden, WA [202, p. 50]. In order to record this piece in time for the memorable event, I had to work late into the night. In the beginning, I was quite stressed out, but the sound of the cistern had a very relaxing effect on me. If I ever felt the healing power of playing the flute, it was during this recording.

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5.6 Didjeridu 5.6.1 Historical Context The didjeridu is the traditional instrument of the Australian Aborigines and was initially performed throughout northern Australia, see Fig. 5.18. for ceremonial use and leisure. The Aborigines have a unique culture due to the isolated nature of the Australian continent. The Aborigines are one of the very few cultural groups that do not use the flute, and the didjeridu is a one-of-a-kind instrument in the world. The traditional didjeridu is made from a termite-hollowed stem of the eucalyptus tree. The stem is cut to length and equipped with a mouthpiece on one end by forming a ring of beeswax around the rim of the stem. The length of the stem is about 1–1.5 m long, resembling a conical or cylindrical resonator with a fundamental frequency of about 70 Hz, see Fig. 5.19. Since the didjeridu is made from a naturally termite-hollowed stem, its bore diameter typically changes in a non-systematic way, making it neither a perfect cylindrical or conical wind instrument [52].

Oenpelli Ngangikurungkurr

Djabugay

main historical didjeridu areas above line

Shoalhaven

Fig. 5.18 Map of Australia highlighting historical locations mentioned in the text. The shaded didjeridu demarcation line was adapted from Moyle [184, p. 321]

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Fig. 5.19 Didjeridu performance by the author

The oldest homo-sapien remains found in Australia date back at least about 40,000 years [33] and the Australian Aborigines are among the oldest modern-human cultures outside of Africa. Scientific evidence suggests that the Aboriginal Australian settlers migrated about 50,000 years ago from Africa [266]. At this time, New Guinea was not yet separated from Australia by sea because of the lower sea levels during the ice age. From there on, the Aborigines lived in isolation from the other continents, until Indonesian seamen started to visit Australia for trade in the 17th century frequently. When the first European settlers arrived in 1788, the Aboriginal population was estimated at 300,000. Since then, the population declined to 160,000, following radical displacement efforts by the European colonists, especially during the 19th century. Before the European settlement, the Aborigines were hunters and gatherers who mainly lived in small groups. They only collected into larger groups during ritual ceremonies. The Aboriginal Australian population divided into 500 tribes or nations. They spoke 260 different dialects and languages that are entirely independent of all other world languages. Approximately 47,000 Aborigines still speak at least one of the local languages today [229]. The Aborigines did not possess a written language, but studies suggest that their oral history accurately reflects events that date back 10,000 years. A study by Reid et al. [225] investigated the accuracy of the landscape changes described in aboriginal legends. The scientists found cases where geological changes that must have occurred 10,000 years ago were accurately reported in these tales. In one case, a legend describes an island that has vanished and geological findings indicate that this island must have existed a long time ago.

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The native religious mythological culture called Dreamtime strongly connects to the Australian Aboriginal music tradition. Dreamtime describes the eternal state from which the spirit of an individual human being descends during life and to which it returns thereafter. Dreamtime is populated by eternal, mystical beings who are still involved in the creative process of life on earth, making the spiritual connection to these beings essential for flourishing life on earth. In 1953, the anthropologist William Stanner coined the term “everywhen” to describe the Dreamtime state [258, p. 62]. The Australian Aboriginal religion is based on totemism, a concept according to which it is believed that humans and nature form a corporate whole. Durkheim [83, p. 99ff.] stated that each clan had its own totem representing an animal or plant that needed to be worshiped and defended. The totems also serve the purpose of providing an identity to a clan to separate it distinctly from the other clans. Among the different tribes, it is a typical belief that the land was once flat and uninhabited before mystical ancestors with supernatural powers appeared in search of food. During this search, they created mountains, rivers, and lakes as well as plants, animals, and humans. The ancestors later disappeared and were transformed into eternity. It is vital for the Australian Aborigines to stay in contact with their ancestors to continue the creation of life. Another legend, described in Hudson [131], suggests that the mystic ancestors lived in harmony before the land was disrupted by earthquakes and other catastrophes that formed the mountains and rivers we know today. The didjeridu, which is usually used to join singers, plays an essential role in this spiritual music tradition that is unique in the world. According to an aboriginal legend, a homecoming warrior found a branch hollowed by termites and discovered the sound of the didjeridu when he blew the termites out. The traditional didjeridu is still made from a found hollowed eucalyptus branch. For this reason, Neville Fletcher [98, p. 28] called it a “primitive” instrument even though the professional performance on the didjeridu requires very accomplished skills. In some ways, the continuous circular-breathed tone of the didjeridu drone represents the Dreamtime “everywhen” state. The sound of the didjeridu is often interpreted as vibrations of the rainbow serpent [58, p. 84], which is one of the mythical aboriginal ancestors forming landscapes and securing the critical supply of water in the water holes [182, p. 23ff.]. The rainbow serpent is often associated with wisdom, and the didjeridu can be a sacred object representing a totem for the rainbow serpent [224]. Historically, music and dance were performed both for religious rituals and entertainment, and there was plenty of time for both since the average daily workload for an aboriginal hunter and gatherer is a few hours a day [232]. Women were often banned from participating in religious rituals including playing the didjeridu at certain ceremonies [12, p. 89]. The traditional Australian Aboriginal Tribes had a very flat hierarchy or a lack thereof with a social system governed through kinship. Given the lack of a central authority, it has been debated whether one could speak about an existing government or not [18, p. 119]. Berndt and Berndt [19, p. 305] argue that the kinship system represents some form of government, while Sharp [245, p. 1], Meggitt [170, p. 176ff.], and Hiatt [126, p. 127] reject the idea of kinship as a form of government.

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According to Crisp [65], the ancestors who passed away appear visually in dreams, and in this way the legacy is carried on rather than relying on a purely oral tradition. The dream appearances can occur during sleep, in an awake state, or they can be induced through rituals, a tradition in which the drone of the didjeridu plays a central part. Vogan [274, p. 94] writes that seers in Central Australia often took pitchurie (or pituri), a form of chewing tobacco, to gain access to the ancestral past. John Malone [166, p. 266] describes such a visionary occasion that occurred to his wife’s aunt, a native from Shoalhaven: Mrs. Malone’s aunt, her mother’s sister, a pure aboriginal, was once in a trance for three days. At the end of that time her brother or husband (Mrs. Malone’s uncle) let off a gun; on which she awoke out of the trance. She then told them she had seen a long path, with fire on both sides of it. At the end of this path stood her father and mother, waiting for her. As she went on, they said to her, “Mary Ann, what brought you here?” she said, “I don’t know, I was dead.” Her mother said to her, “you go back.” She saw it all quite plain.

In-depth listening also plays a central role for Australian Aborigines tribes. Miriam-Rose Ungunmerr-Baumann [268], from the Ngangikurungkurr tribe of Daly River in Northern Territory, describes the concept of Dadirri, a deep listening method, as follows—see also McLeonard [169]: It is inner, deep listening and quiet, still awareness. Dadirri recognises the deep spring that is inside us. We call on it and it calls to us. This is the gift that Australia is thirsting for. It is something like what you call “contemplation”.

5.6.2 Construction Among all my instrumental variations, the pocket didjeridu probably brings the saxophone furthest away from its traditional sound and performance style. The instrument, shown in Fig. 5.20, contains several parts, but it is fairly easy to construct from PVC

Fig. 5.20 Pocket Didjeridu for the saxophone in the key of C

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Fig. 5.21 Unfolded pocket didjeridus in the keys of C (left image) and F (right image)

pipes. Building a regular didjeridu from standard ABS or PVC plumbing pipes has become very common, even among professional players like Stuart Dempster [76]. The regular didjeridu is typically made from 1 1/2 ABS sections. To use such a construction in connection with the saxophone, the diameter has to be smaller to match the diameter of the neck joint. After some experimentation with different diameters, I settled on a PVC pipe with a 1/2 diameter that is usually used for freshwater supply. Six short sections are connected with 180◦ angle joints to provide a winding path similar to the Renaissance rankett—see Fig. 5.21. The trick is to keep the overall instrument at the same length of the regular soprano saxophone so the mouthpiece is at the correct location and can be played properly. For this small diameter, 180◦ angles do not exist, but they can be easily built from two 90◦ elbows that are cut and then glued together using plumbing cement as shown in Fig. 5.21. The primer is often sold in purple color to indicate leaks, but a colorless version that looks better is available as well. After the primer, the glue needs to be applied according to the product instructions. Both primer and glue are toxic and need to be handled with extreme care in a well-ventilated area using protective gloves and safety glasses. Six u-joints need to be built, and the PVC pipes are then just plugged into the joints so the pocket didjeridu can be disassembled for drying and cleaning. The mouthpiece is made from a straight coupler and a 1/2 -to-1 adapter. For low fundamental frequencies, a larger 1/2 -to-1 1/2 adapter should be used as a mouthpiece. Otherwise, it will be very difficult to produce the fundamental tone. On the other end, the pocket didjeridu needs to be connected to the neck joint of the saxophone. I used the bottom part of a soprano saxophone neck and inserted it into a straight PVC joint as shown in Fig. 5.22. Tape was used to fit the truncated saxophone neck tightly without glue. Two smaller PVC pipes with normal 90◦ elbows are used to connect the pocket didjeridu to the saxophone. For stability reasons, I glued the small PVC pipe into the elbows. It should be noted here that the diameter of the neck joint varies from saxophone to saxophone. For a soprano saxophone, the outside diameter of the neck at the joint is typically between 16.8 and 17 mm. I usually order low-cost 17-mm necks and then sand them down until they fit tightly into my saxophone joint. One has to be careful though to sand the neck down evenly without creating spots where air can leak. I check the neck surface with a caliper several times while sanding it down. I start

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Fig. 5.22 Mount to connect the pocket didjeridu with a soprano saxophone

with coarse grit 60 and then use finer grit, down to 150 or finer.17 If necessary, a file can be used to trim excess material in the beginning, but one has to be careful not to trim off too much material. Professional saxophone repair shops offer neck adjustments for a reasonable price and this might be a good alternative if someone does not have the tools and expertise to do this at home. In the beginning, I just kept the six pipes of the pocket didjeridu together with rubber bands. For stability reasons, I later built an acrylic plate with seven holes into which the pipes can be inserted—see Fig. 5.21, left image. The lengths of the pipes depend on the desired key for the didjeridu. I use two versions, one with a fundamental tone of C2 and the other one tuned to F1 . The latter one works great with the saxophone rim flute. The following pipe-segment lengths and connectors work for the pocket didjeridu in C: NC+C0+40+C90+30+C90+195+C180+190+C180+ 190+C180+190+C180+210+C180+230+C0+M1 All unlettered numbers stand for PVC pipe segments, and the value gives the length in millimeters. All other parts are abbreviated as follows: NC: brass adapter made from saxophone neck bottom to connect to the coupler (see Fig. 5.22); C0: straight coupler; C90: 90◦ elbow; C180: custom-built 180◦ connectors; M1: 1/2 -to-1 adapter. The following pipe-segment lengths and connectors are used for the pocket didjeridu in F : NC+C0+40+C90+30+C90+195+C180+190+C180+ 318+C180+318+C180+318+C180+340+C0+M15 with M15 denoting a 1/2 -to-1 1/2 adapter used as a mouthpiece. 17 Grit

size based on the CAMI (Coated Abrasive Manufacturers Institute) standard.

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It should be noted that the keys of the saxophone do not have much effect on the pitch of the pocket didjeridu. Typically I keep them closed while playing the pocket didjeridu, but they can be opened for interesting timbral effects. Basically, the pocket didjeridu can be played like a regular didjeridu with all the effects. Since the bore is narrower than the bore of a regular didjeridu, it has a more tonal resonance to it, and it is also not very loud. The lips are buzzed at a much lower frequency compared to most Western brass instruments. David Hudson [130], a well known Australian Aboriginal didjeridu virtuoso, has produced an interesting video on building and playing the Australian didjeridu. In this video, he also demonstrates how to produce a buzzing sound.

5.6.3 General Playing Instructions The didjeridu is a brass instrument that is excited by buzzing the lips, but its acoustics are fundamentally different from Western wind instruments in both structure and performance style. In contrast to Western brass instruments, the didjeridu does not have a cup and throat that separates the mouthpiece rim from the body as was discussed in Sect. 2.3.1. The instrument’s resonator is also much wider than the resonator of a Western brass instrument with a comparable pitch. With Western brass instruments, the comparatively narrow bore determines the timbre. The fixed bore limits the timbral possibilities, and the bore cannot be made acoustically wider. With the didjeridu, the acoustic effect of the wide resonator can be compensated by a narrowing the vocal tract—thus giving the whole instrument the acoustic effect of a narrower bore. The didjeridu is mainly used to play drones rather than melodies. The human voice and changing vocal tract resonances are used to modulate the didjeridu sound and to add effects. The following techniques are used with the didjeridu: • As said, the main sound source is the buzzing of the lips to produce a drone. The lip tension is much lower than for typical Western brass instruments. • Circular breathing is used to establish a continuous drone. Variations of the circular breathing technique can be used to shape this drone. One method is to carefully control the muscular tension of the cheeks to provide a continuous airflow without audible modulation. In this case, which Moyle [183] termed Type-A, the cheeks act in a similar way the bellows of a pipe organ work to provide a constant wind pressure—see Fig. 5.23a. Of course, the art is to avoid wind pressure fluctuations and embouchure changes during the inhaling phase. In contrast, one can also make the different phases of the circular breathing deliberately audible to produce a rhythmic pulse. By inhaling quickly and contracting the cheeks abruptly with the tempo of the music, one can produce audible onsets that are perceived as a beat (Type-B performance as defined by Moyle [183])—see Fig. 5.23b. • Vocal tract control is used to vary the timbre of the didjeridu. An intuitive way to do this is to shape the vocal tract according to spoken vowels. If desired,

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Fig. 5.23 Spectrograms for different didjeridu performance styles. a: Circular breathing with smooth breathing cycle; b: Circular breathing with noticeable breathing cycle; c: Singing voice on top of didjeridu drone; d: Singing voice on top of didjeridu drone with drone gap starting at the sixth second. Each graph shows the energy (light-gray areas) as a function of frequency (y-axis) and time (x-axis). At the bottom of each graph, the sound-pressure amplitude for each sound is shown

the transitions between two vowel sound can be made audible as timbre modulations. Other vocal tract formation can be used as well, for example, by using the tongue to make the vocal tract very narrow. Here, the tip of the tongue can be pushed right against the lower lip or teeth. • Tongue Articulation is used to create rhythmic patterns. This can be accomplished the same way many consonants are formed. The tongue can be pushed against the upper gum ridge to produce the consonant ‘t’ or ‘d’. This interrupts the airflow intermittently. The back of the tongue can be used to interrupt the airflow by forming the consonants ‘k’ or ‘g’. Double tonguing is then accomplished by alternating the interruptions between the front and back of the tongue, for example, by producing a ‘t-k-t-k’ sequence. • The voice can be applied in many ways. A high-pitched voice can be used to sing a melody above the drone tone—see Fig. 5.23c+d. A low-pitched voice can duplicate the fundamental of the drone. Modulatory effects can be created by slightly varying the fundamental frequency over time. The voice can also be used to simulate animal sounds (Fig. 5.24a). The Australian kookaburra bird or the dingo dog are two animal examples that are often imitated. One can also articulate

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Fig. 5.24 Spectrograms for different didjeridu performance styles. a: Vocal bird call on top of didjeridu drone; b: Vocal cry on top of didjeridu drone; c: Vocal growl on top of didjeridu drone; d: Vocal growl on top of didjeridu drone with moving saxophone keys. See Fig. 5.23 for further information

a human cry—see Fig. 5.24b. A growling sound is another way to enrich the spectrum of the didjeridu. The false vocal cords can be activated to produce sounds below the fundamental pitch of the buzzed drone using the vocal fry register—see Fig. 5.24c+d. It is interesting to note that the Australian Aboriginal languages commonly only know 3 vowels: ‘a’, ‘i’, and ‘u.’ Fricatives like ‘f’, ‘v’, ‘s,’ and ‘z,’ do not exist in these languages, but two or more discriminative forms of ‘r’ are known—see S.A.W. [234] and Wurm [286]. The real art of playing the didjeridu is to combine several of the above techniques to create complex and compelling rhythmic structures and timbral textures. Modern performance styles also use elements of beatboxing, for example, to simulate the sound of a bass drum, snare, and hi-hat over the didjeridu’s drone sound. An excellent introduction to didjeridu performance has been written by Schellberg [237]. The Australian acoustician Neville Fletcher investigated the acoustics of the didjeridu very thoroughly [96, 98], which led to subsequent acoustical studies of the instrument [97, 99, 246, 262].

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5.7 Bawu The bawu is a free-reed instrument that originates from South East Asia. The instrument is a traditional Chinese Folk instrument of the Yunnan province used by the Hmong, Yi, and Hani ethnic minorities, shown in Fig. 5.25. It has a cylindrical bamboo resonator with finger holes similar to those found on flutes. The instrument is typically around 27 cm in length as depicted in Fig. 5.26c. As discussed in Sect. 2.3, free reeds differ from European striking reeds by a construction that allows the free reed to swing through the mounting frame without obstruction rather than striking on it. Until the late 18th century, free-reed instruments were only used in South East Asia, China, and Japan. Although the free reed is believed to originate from minority tribes in the Yunnan province of South China, there is no scientific evidence to support this theory. In fact, the oldest depiction of a free-reed instrument, from 430 BC, shows a sheng, a Chinese mouth organ with free reeds [89]. Scholars assume that the tropical climate in South East Asia caused the wood that the free-reed instruments were made of to decay, and this is why there are no ancient traces left of the instrument. One of the earliest free-reed instruments is the feili of the ethnic Yi group in Yunnan [153]. It is an extremely simple free-reed instrument that likely served as the prototype for the modern bawu. It is made from a straw and has three finger

Japan

Yunnan Hmong Laos

Tomb Marquis Yi Vietnam

Isan Cambodia Thailand

Fig. 5.25 Map of the Asian regions where free-reed instruments are traditionally used. The darker shaded areas show the Provinces of China. Yunnan, home of the Hmong, Hani, and Yi minorities, is the province that is often considered to be the cradle of the bawu. The Isan region, shown with a moiré pattern is part of Thailand and home of the mouth organ khaen. The tomb of Marquis Yi is the site, where the oldest known mouth organ, a sheng, was found

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Fig. 5.26 South-East Asian musical instruments (all from the 1990s): a: Mouth harp (Cambodia); b: Hulusi (Hong Kong); c: Bawu (Hong Kong)

holes. The free reed is created through an incision in the upper end. According to the oral tradition of the Yi, the feili was found by a mute girl and became her voice. According to Bai Jinliang, a local feili performer, the ‘sad’ sound of the instrument is commonly used to “express yearning for a lover” [153, p. 158]. The native hill tribes of the Yunnan region preserved their cultures through an oral tradition before they adopted the written language of the Han Chinese. The Hmong have a unique singing tradition for courtship, and it comes as no surprise that the intimate and soft sound of the bawu is often used for homeland and love songs—e.g., see Briain [43, p. 231]. In the musical tradition of the Hmong, the mouth organ qeej plays an essential role in funeral services [87]. The Hmong believe that the instrument initially consisted of only one free-reed pipe, but the instrument eventually received six pipes after six brothers played six instruments together. The pipes with their different lengths represent individual ancestors. The Hmong have a fascinating tradition of coding poems written in their tone language into melodies played by various free-reed folk instruments, including the raj nplaim, an instrument with one resonator and finger holes similar to the bawu, and the qeej, a mouth organ with six pipes. The right instrument in Fig. 5.27 depicts a Cambodian mouth organ with six pipes made from a gourd, similar to the qeej. The idea of the Hmong’s musical poems is to distance the performance of the poems from the real world. In this case, the performer does not have to be embarrassed if his courtship songs remain unanswered [51, p. 193]. During funerals, a disguised tone language is also used with the qeej so only the deceased can understand the poems [88]. Many different folk instruments with free reeds are found in South East Asia including the Thai mouth organ khaen. Further north, the sheng, the sho, the bawu, and the hulusi are frequently used. The left instrument of Fig. 5.27 depicts a modern sheng. The khaen is a mouth organ from Thailand with 16 pipes. It is traditionally used in the Isan region to accompany singers at Buddhist and other festivities [173]. The Pootai people, who live in the hills of northeast Thailand and southern Laos, use a single free-reed instrument with resonator and finger holes, known as the look bee kaen [174, p. 4]. Another free-reed instrument of the same tribe is the bee sanai [174, p. 4], a water buffalo horn with a side-mounted free reed. The instrument can

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Fig. 5.27 Left: Sheng (Hong Kong 1990s). Right: Cambodian mouth organ made from a gourd (Cambodia 1990s). The inset shows finger holes located at the bottom of the instrument

produce two or three distinct tones, and it is used for festivities such as the rocket festival bung-fai. The Vietnamese bamboo pipe with finger holes and free reed is called the sáo mèo, and the Hmong people, who use this instrument, call it the raj nplaim [43, p. 84, Fig. 3.1]. The sho is the Japanese adaptation of the Chinese sheng, and the hulusi is similar to the bawu but smaller in size. The hulusi also has additional drone pipes as shown in Fig. 5.26b. In the Malaysian Sabah region of northern Borneo, a free-reed mouth organ, called sompoton is traditionally used. The instrument is made from a dried gourd, which serves resonance body and holds eight bamboo pipes [284]. The traditional bawu has eight diatonic tone holes and is mostly built in the keys of F, G, or C. The Chinese number-based music notation system is commonly used to notate bawu melodies. The bawu in F produces the following tones: C4 , D4 , E4 , F4 , G4 , A4 , B4 , C5 , and D5 [176]. The low A (A3 ) can be played by underblowing the bawu. This is accomplished by reducing the strength of the air stream and by adjusting the vocal tract. Additional chromatic tones can be played using cross-fingerings. The sound of the bawu is very soft with the typical free-reed ‘twang’ in the onset of the sound. Its sound is often compared to the sound of a flute because it does

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not contain much energy in the high frequencies. However, the onset characteristics of a bawu are very different from those of a flute as was previously discussed in Sect. 2.3.2. The bawu is primarily used as a folk instrument to play melodies on a pentatonic scale. The instrument also plays a role in Chinese popular and film music. It is likely that the Asian mouth organ was derived from the bawu because the construction of the former is substantially more complex. Its mechanism requires several working pipes whereas the bawu has only one pipe. Nowadays, free-reed instruments have reeds made from metal, but it is likely that the reeds were formerly made from wood similar to those still found in Thai and Cambodian mouth harps (Jewish harps)—see Fig. 5.26a. The construction of these instruments is very simple and could have served as an intermediate step for the construction of the bawu and other free-reed instruments. The Asian-style free reeds are made of a simple two or threeway cut in a metal plate. The reed and the reed frame are made from the same piece of metal and one, uncut side holds both together. The reed is usually made from brass or copper. In either case, the metal is hammered or rolled to improve the spring properties of the reed. In Thailand, the reed is traditionally made from a copper coin, which is hammered to a thin sheet of metal before the slits for the reed are cut out [217, p. 119]. There has been much speculation as to whether the European free reed was copied from the Asian free reed. A few examples of the Asian mouth organ were known to exist in Europe at the time when Western instrument makers started to make free-reed instruments. However, Christian Ahrens and I concluded that the European free reed was a unique invention by Christian Gottlieb Kratzenstein (1723–1795) after studying his papers [3]. Kratzenstein’s free-reed design was not only significantly different from the Asian free reed but also more complicated. In his work, Kratzenstein argued that he invented the free reed to build a speaking machine. He noticed that the reed struck the frame periodically which causes a rattling noise. Since this noise is dissimilar to the speech sounds produced by the human voice, Kratzenstein found a way to avoid the rattling sound by making the reed smaller than the frame so it would never touch the latter while oscillating. In his thorough treatise, Kratzenstein does not mention the Asian free reed by name but uses instead a design that was derived from the Western beating-reed organ pipe. Like the Western beating read, Kratzenstein’s free reed was made from two separate pieces, and this method is still used today to build free-reed pipe organ stops.

5.7.1 Classification The construction of the bawu is unique as it combines a diatonic body with a free-reed generator. While nearly every culture uses wind instruments in the form of flutes, double-reed and beating-reed instruments in conjunction with a diatonic resonator, no culture outside South-East Asia possesses an instrument comparable to the bawu. In contrast to the classification system of Erich M. von Hornbostel and Curt Sachs [128], which categorizes musical instruments based on their sound production methods, the traditional Chinese classification method is based on the material the

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instruments are made from Chow-Morris [56]. The Chinese classification uses eight different material categories: 1. 2. 3. 4. 5. 6.

Silk: String instruments (traditionally made with strings from silk) Bamboo: Woodwind instruments, including the bawu Wood: Wood percussion instruments, e.g., the rattle gouban Stone: Chimes made from stone Metal: Gongs and Bells Clay/Bone: Ancient instruments, including the clay flute xun and the clay bell fou. 7. Gourd/Plant: Hulusi and the sheng 8. Hide/Skin: Drums.

According to this classification system, the bawu and the sheng belong to different categories because their bodies are made from different materials, bamboo or gourd. Nevertheless, both instruments use a similar free-reed tone generator and, for this reason, the von Hornbostel-Sachs classification system groups them into the same top-level class of aerophones.

5.7.2 Construction The bawu free reed is basically a harmonic oscillator that is excited by the wind pressure of the exhaling lung. One of the simplest examples of a harmonic oscillator is a mass connected to a spring.18 Once set in motion the mass continues to swing in a periodic pattern because the energy is preserved by constantly exchanging the kinetic energy, the energy of the mass in motion, and the potential energy, the energy stored in the loaded spring. The fundamental frequency, f , of the harmonic oscillator can be determined by this equation: 1 f = 2π



k , m

(5.1)

with the spring constant, k, and the mass, m. The equation is a reduction of Eq. 2.9, dealing with only the reed part. This way it is easier to derive the practical implications that are useful to tune the reed. According to the equation, the fundamental oscillation frequency, f , increases when the spring, with spring constant, k, is made stiffer, or the mass, m, is reduced. To decrease the oscillation frequency, one can either increase the mass, m, or reduce the stiffness, k, of the spring. The bawu reed follows the principles of the mass/spring based harmonic oscillator. It should be kept in mind, though, that the mass, the tip of the reed, and the spring, the far end of the tip, are not clearly separated. Nevertheless, the knowledge acquired from Eq. 5.1 can be used to tune a bawu reed: 18 We

have dealt with the theory of a free reed coupled to a resonator already in detail in Sect. 2.4.2 to provide better insight into how these mechanisms generally work. This section deals with the practical application of tuning the free reed.

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1. To lower the resonance frequency of the bawu reed, one can remove material at the wide end of the reed that is attached to the frame using a file. This way the spring constant is lowered, reducing the stiffness of the reed. 2. To increase the resonance frequency of the bawu reed, one can remove material at the tip reed that is attached to the frame using a file. This reduces the mass of the reed. Since the body of the soprano saxophone is much wider than the body of the original bawu, the reed needs to have different dimensions to optimally couple to the resonator. Otherwise, the reed will not follow the resonator frequency for the different key combinations and instead will sound at its own resonance frequency. Commercially available bawu reeds follow the resonator only over a tiny range of a few notes when mounted on the soprano saxophone, making the instrument unsuitable for playing standard melodies. Consequently, the bawu reed needs to be modified for the saxophone so it has a large tonal range with a good, constant tone quality. To achieve this goal, the reed has to be made larger than the traditional bawu reed, and the reed’s own fundamental frequency needs to be below the frequency of the resonator it is coupled to. After many experiments building my own reeds, I realized I would get much better and quicker results by modifying an existing reed. When fabricating new reeds I always order replacement reeds for the bawu in F.19 I extend the bawu-reed length toward the connected end using the metal saw with the thinnest blade I could find.20 Before making the cut, I affix the reed to a PVC pipe using duct tape. This lifts the reed up to provide free access to the frame. Then, I always mark the new reed length to 2.0 cm on the reed itself using a pencil. To preserve the spring tension of the reed, I avoid using an engraving tool. Another downside to using an engraving tool would be that it could increase the likelihood that the reed will fracture with fatigue or misuse. Finally, I extend the two existing slits that separate the bawu reed from the frame using the saw until I reach the pencil mark. It can help to hold the saw at a slight inward angle. When enlarging the reed, the following needs to be kept in mind. If the reed had a rectangular shape, enlarging the reed length would simply reduce the resonance frequency by increasing the mass of the reed while keeping the spring stiffness constant. However, to make things a little more complicated, enlarging a triangular reed will also increase its base width, which in return will increase the stiffness of the spring. If desired, the reed stiffness can be reduced by sanding down the brass material at the end where the reed attaches to the frame. After lengthening the reed, I always add some lead-free solder to the reed tip, as shown in Fig. 5.28, using a standard soldering iron. The solder increases the reed mass and reduces the reed’s fundamental frequency. Before soldering, the tip is carefully cleaned with fine-grit sandpaper. Next, water-soluble paste flux, the one 19 At the time I wrote the book, the only English-speaking store I knew shipping replacement bawu reeds worldwide was the Red Music Shop: http://www.redmusicshop.com/ [last accessed 11/01/2017]. 20 Zona Universal Ultra Thin Kerf Razor Saw with a cut thickness of 0.203 mm.

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Fig. 5.28 Two bawu reeds. Top: Unprocessed reed. Bottom: Enlarged processed reed with soldered tip

Fig. 5.29 Bawu frames for the soprano saxophone without reed (top) and with reed (bottom)

typically used for working on freshwater pipes, is applied. Only very little solder should be added. When tuning the reed, the solder can be later partly removed with a file to reduce the mass. Excess solder at the side of the reed can be removed with sandpaper so the reed can swing freely through the frame. For this purpose, the reed can be held against a lamp to examine at which points along the slits the solder needs to be removed. The bawu-reed holder is made from a generic ABS-plastic saxophone mouthpiece and an ABS plate as shown in Fig. 5.29. The 2 mm-thick plate is cut according to the dimensions given in Fig. 5.30, including a 5 mm × 21 mm rectangular cut out for the reed. Since the table of a saxophone mouthpiece is slightly curved, it needs to be sanded flat before the plate is glued onto the table using a two-component glue or another suitable adhesive.

134

5

21

8

52

8

Fig. 5.30 Construction schematic for the bawu reed adapter made from a 2-mm ABS plate. All dimensions are given in millimeters

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6

21

Next, the reed is fixed onto the mouthpiece using tape. Before mounting the reed, I typically adjust the default reed curvature such that the reed tip rests about 2 mm above the reed frame, with the tip pointing into the direction of the saxophone neck. In most cases, the reed curvature needs to be changed the following way to optimize the tonal range of the instrument: 1. To extend the frequency range to the higher notes, the reed can be further lifted. 2. To extend the frequency range to the lower notes, the reed curvature needs to be decreased. Tuning the bawu reed can be quite challenging, and it requires patience. The main challenge is to enable the reed to respond over the desired range with a balanced sound. Especially in the high register, the sound can be raspy if the reed is not tuned well. It is also difficult to bring the instrument in tune over the whole range. The high notes often sound too low. With the sharp edges of the free reed, there is no straight-forward way to correct the pitch because the lower lip cannot touch and adjust the vibrating reed. This is another reason why one needs to be diligent when finishing the reed. Usually, I tune the reed for the saxophone in B . Alternatively, the reed can also be tuned for the saxophone to sound in natural B.

5.7.3 General Playing Instructions Once the bawu adapter has been built, and the reed is tuned, playing the instrument is easy compared to some of the other mouthpiece adapters. In contrast to the regular saxophone reed, the whole bawu reed needs to be inserted into the mouth and not just the tip as practiced with the regular saxophone reed. Therefore, is best to play the bawu reed sideways like a regular transverse bawu. To accommodate the reed, I use a saxophone neck that is meant for a curved soprano saxophone—see Fig. 5.31. I insert the neck, so it is angled sideways. Here, it does not matter if the lever for the octave key does not match up with the octave-key mechanism on the neck since the instrument cannot overblow into the higher register with a free reed anyway. One could also buy a bawu with a duct system and use the duct with the saxophone. This way the instrument could be played straight like the regular saxophone. Personally, I never really looked into this because it limits the performer’s ability to adjust the oral cavity to control the instrument. The instrument can be played with regular tongue articulation, but the free reed has an interesting peculiarity. Under certain acoustic circumstances, one can hear the

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Fig. 5.31 Bawu mouthpiece mounted on a soprano saxophone

reed ringing out when the airflow is interrupted. Since the sharp-edged reed cannot be easily stopped with the tongue, the easiest way to avoid the ringing is to release the lips around the mouthpiece immediately. This will cause an impedance mismatch that stops the reed abruptly. The way I tune the bawu reed, I use the following fingering chart to play the instrument:

5.7.4 Songs The first three songs are traditional Chinese folk songs that are often played with the bawu. I transposed the songs for the saxophone bawu so they can be played with the

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provided fingering chart. The songs are commonly known in the literature, and some of them can also be found in Pat Missin’s comprehensive English-language bawu method [176]. The underlying fairy tale of the first song, Lady Meng Jiang, presumably goes back to the Song Dynasty (960–1279). It is one of the four great folktales of Chinese Culture. In this tale, Lady Meng Jiang weeps so hard over the loss of her husband that parts of the Chinese wall give in and reveal the remains of her husband.

The next song, In a Far-Away Place, is a traditional folk song from the mountainous Qinghai Province in China. The song, which is one of the best known Chinese folk songs, was collected and transcribed by Luobin Wang in the 1930s as part of an extensive collection.

The Miao Minority Song is a folk song of the Miao people, who live in the Chinese Yunnan province. The Miao are one of the South East Asian minority groups who have a long tradition with free-reed instruments.

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I wrote my own song to feature the smooth melodic capabilities of the bawu. The song is inspired by both Chinese and French melodic elements. The latter is a tribute to the extensive French accordion and harmonium tradition.

The second bawu song I wrote focuses on the amazing crescendi and descrendi one can achieve with a free reed. In contrast to other reed types, free reeds do not tend to change their timbral qualities much with wind pressure. This allows the performer to produce elegant amplitude variations without affecting the timbre of the instrument. With the bawu reed, one can also achieve glides between two notes by slowly adjusting the keys. This sound feature is unique to the instrument, and it can be used for keyed intervals up to about a major third.

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The Hmong music practice to encode speech directly into an instrumental performance is unique in world music. When using the mouth organ qeej, each fingering pattern codes one word. For each of the six pipes, four different fingering combinations exist: open, closed, tap and release, tap and hold, assuming that the tap is performed with a delay after articulating the beginning of the chord—see Vang [270, p. 1]. The qeej word catalog is very extensive, and Vang’s catalog contains nearly 500 pages with 56 word patterns on each page [269]. Experienced qeej players can follow the expressed words in a qeej performance [230], but duplicate fingering patterns for the same word make the messages ambiguous. This is an important part of the Hmong culture, so communication with the deceased ancestors remains private. In order to demonstrate the general idea of encoding speech with a musical wind instrument, I derived a simple scheme based on coding words on a letter level. The scheme was inspired by Morse Code. Each letter is coded using a six-note scale, in this example consisting of the notes: D4 , F4 , G4 , A4 , C5 , D5 , which can be played with the bawu mouthpiece on the saxophone. The code was conceived for the saxophone with bawu mouthpiece, but it could be adapted to any other existing wind instrument that has a range of at least an octave. All vowels, including the letter ‘y’, are encoded as quarter notes of different pitches.

Consonants are always encoded as pairs of eighth notes with specific ascending and descending intervals, choosing smaller intervals including perfect prime intervals for the more frequently used consonants and larger intervals for the less commonly used consonants. Spaces are decoded as quarter rests and the scheme shown below also provides code for punctuations and numbers.

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Unlike the Hmong code, the method presented here leads to unambiguous messages that can be transformed back into text messages with full accuracy. If desired, uncertainties can be included in the composition or interpretation process. Another essential difference between both codes is that the Hmong code works on a word basis, while the one presented here operates on a letter basis, making the Hmong code by far more complex, requiring years to fully master it. I will close this section with a coded music example and leave it to the reader to figure the message out.

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5.8 Duduk 5.8.1 Historical Background The duduk is an Armenian double-reed instrument also known as the duduki in Georgia, yasti balaman in Azerbaijan, and the mey in Turkey (Fig. 5.32). As a symbol of national identity, the duduk is closely tied to the history and culture of Armenia. The duduk has a cylindrical resonator and a double reed, called ramish or ghamish. The extraordinary shape and large size of the reed make the duduk a unique instrument in the whole world. The narrow resonator is usually made from apricot wood and has 9 finger holes. In contrast to most other wind instruments, the duduk does not overblow into the higher register because the large reed does not support this mode of oscillation. The sound of the instrument often ranges from F4 to A5 but the duduk is made in various sizes. In contrast to the oboe and bassoon reeds, which are constructed from two separate pieces, the duduk reed is constructed from a single round piece of cane. After shaving the bark off, the wet tubular cane is folded such that one end is flat with the two reed halves vibrating against each other. The briddle, a flattened tuning ring made from wood, is used to keep the reed in shape and to regulate the reed’s tip opening (Fig. 5.33). The Armenians believe that the duduk is among the oldest instruments in the world. It is commonly believed that the history of the duduk goes back to 1500 BC although there is no factual evidence that the duduk existed before 500 AD. However, it is easy to imagine that the duduk was a prototype for other double-reed instruments since the construction of its reed is quite simple in the sense that it is crafted from a

Fig. 5.32 Armenian duduk

Fig. 5.33 Duduk reed with open reed guard

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141

single piece of cane. The Armenian culture has a very long tradition. According to a biblical legend, Hayk, a great-great-grandson of Noah, established the Armenian nation in the in the Ararat region after defeating the Babylonian King Bel in 2492 BC. Modern Armenian society was preceded by the Kingdom of Urartu (860-590 BC). Two nation-building events were the declaration of the Armenian Church in 315 AD under King Tiridates III and the introduction of the Armenian alphabet by the linguist Mesrop Mashtots in 405. The Armenian church is the world’s oldest existing Christian state church. The Armenian story is one of diaspora, and the current country only hosts a fraction of the Armenian people. Most Armenians today live abroad. After separating from the Ottoman Empire following World War I, Armenia briefly gained independence in 1918. In 1922, Armenia became part of the Soviet Union but regained full independence after the disintegration of the empire in 1991. According to literature, the duduk is associated with deep sadness [192, p. 56]. The world-renowned duduk virtuoso Djivan Gasparyan stated that: “In its tiny holes bears the cry of Armenia’s bitter past.” Andy Nercessian states that both the instrument’s association with sadness and the timbral quality per se give the duduk its role in funerals rather than weddings and other joyful events [192, p. 119]. However, the duduk is also used to accompany slow dances. The clarinet and the zurna, another double-reed instrument, are traditionally used for festivities and dance music. The clarinet and the zurna are also much louder than the duduk. Especially the zurna is usually played outside. Repertoire for the duduk by Armenian composers exists in modern classical music [4]. Further, the duduk has its place in film music, especially in scenes where an exotic voice is needed, for example in the movie Avatar (2009), directed by James Cameron, or if the film’s plot is set in the antiquity, as is the case in the historical drama Gladiator (2009), directed by Ridley Scott. Armenian traditional music is monodic. Like many other cultures, Armenia has its own modal system that is used for both church and folk music. The theory and structure of the Armenian diatonic scales differ significantly from the Greek and Gregorian church modes [233]. The Armenian scales are built using stacked tetrachords with equal interval structures. The last note of each tetrachord is also the first note of the next one. The basic scale, with an interval structure of ‘1-1-1/2’, is as follows21 :

The brackets indicate the overlapping tetrachords. The Armenian modes are divided into natural and altered modes [233]. It should be noted that the Armenian scales are not equal tempered and the downward pointing triangles indicate intervals that are slightly flat compared to Western music scales. For musicians trained in classical music or jazz, the most unusual feature could be that the interval structures changes with octaves. In the example given above, the tone E is replaced with the tone E in the second octave to fulfill the ‘1-1-1/2’ interval structure. This, however, does not have major practical implications for the duduk since the instrument’s range only slightly exceeds an octave. 21 Here

‘1’ denotes a whole tone and ‘1/2’ denotes a semitone interval.

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In the Azerbaijanian musical tradition, similar scale structures are used, also changing musical tones with octaves. One of the main cultural differences between Azerbaijan and Armenia is the primary religion. It, therefore, comes as no surprise that the scale system of the predominantly Muslim Azerbaijan shows similarities concerning scale names and interval structure to the maqam system of the Middle East used in Persia, Turkey, and the Arab world. The main scales, called mughams, or mugams in Armenia, are defined as follows [190, p. 40]: Rast:

Shur:

Segah:

Sharhargah:

Sushtar:

Humayun:

The duduk is also frequently used to play Middle-Eastern maqams. The concept of musical scales of the maqam system is, in some way, similar to the Western system of church-music modes and Indian ragas. The maqams are often used as a basis for a structured improvisation. The use of maqams is widely spread in the Middle East and southern Europe. The maqams are often regionally distinct and can contain chroma, frequency variations of less than a semitone, that deviate from a diatonic scale model. John Vartan lists the following standard maqams for the duduk [271, p. 10]:

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Rast:

Nihavent:

Hijaz:

Husenyni:

Ushak:

Chataraban:

Shenaz:

Sabah:

Huzzam:

In contrast to the maqam tradition where the player improvises relatively freely using the scales, the mughamat system provides further instructions, including melodic motifs and guidelines for form [190, p. 35]. It is a common tradition that a second duduk, often performed by a student of the master, provides the fundamental note of the mugham as a drone. This drone is often played as a continuum by using circular breathing. The reed of the duduk has a large bending range which helps to produce the pitches of chromas correctly.

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5.8.2 Construction Compared to the reeds of Western wind instruments, the duduk reed is very large. It is so long that it cannot be mounted on the soprano saxophone neck joint without being out of tune. The instrument will always sound too low because the reed tip is too far away from the rest of the instrument. For this reason, I modify the duduk read to make it shorter. My modification starts with preparing a small acrylic plate (400 × 400 mm, 50 mm thick) that I cut to the dimensions shown in Fig. 5.34b. The plate could also be made from wood because the material does not really matter. I begin with creating a cutout in the center of the plate that holds the reed tightly at the point where the reed, measured from the tip, has a resulting length of 7.5 cm at the bottom of the acrylic plate. With the reeds I bought, I needed to make the overall length of the saxophone, measured from the tip of the duduk reed to the bell, shorter than the length of the regular saxophone (also measured from the reed tip to the end of the bell). In my experience, if the saxophone with a duduk reed has the same length as the regular saxophone, the high notes will become too low compared to the low notes. This all needs to be considered when finding the best position for cutting the reed. The schematic of Fig. 5.34 shows the size of the cutout to be 25 mm × 18 mm, but the exact size depends on the size of the individual reed that is being fitted. Typically, the cutout matches the outside cross-section of the duduk reed at its largest diameter. The cutout is created by drilling a large hole, e.g., 2.0 cm, in the center and two side holes, e.g., 1.2 cm, for the broader side of the reed. It is easier to drill the side holes first because they will overlap with the center hole. After drilling the three holes, further material is removed with a file to match the cutout to the reed dimensions.

(a)

(b)

Fig. 5.34 Construction schematic for the duduk reed adapter. All dimensions are provided in millimeters. a The plate that is soldered to the tube that is inserted into the saxophone neck is made from a 0.5-mm brass sheet. b The plate that holds the duduk reed is fabricated from an acrylic plate. Both plates are connected using 2-mm screws as shown in Fig. 5.35. A 5/8 (15.88-mm) brass pipe fitted with additional tape is used to connect to the saxophone neck

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Fig. 5.35 Duduk reeds with saxophone mount. a: finished duduk reed with saxophone adapter, b: original duduk reed, c: cut duduk reed with a base plate, d: base adapter and separated prepared duduk reed

Afterward, four small holes (2 mm diameter) are drilled into the frame close to edges. These holes will be used later to mount the acrylic plate to an adapter that connects to the saxophone neck joint. Next, the duduk reed is glued into the frame using contact cement. After the glue has dried, the lower part of the reed is cut flush with the acrylic plate using a fine saw. Then, the bottom of the acrylic plate is sanded down until it is perfectly even to avoid air leaks. The whole procedure is worth the labor since the life expectancy of a duduk reed is much higher than that of a regular saxophone. The adapter to connect the modified duduk reed to the saxophone neck joint can be built from a brass plate that matches the acrylic-plate dimensions—see Fig. 5.34a. The brass plate can be fairly thin (0.5 mm) since the acrylic plate provides sufficient support. The brass plate will receive a large 16-mm hole in the center and four 2-mm mounting holes. Make sure to align the four mounting holes with the holes of the acrylic frame. A small piece of brass tube is soldered to the bottom of the brass plate with a micro torch using lead-free solder and a paste flux made for soldering fresh water pipes. Brass tubes with the correct diameter to fit the neck joint tightly are not readily available in the United States. Therefore, I use a 5/8 (1.5875 cm) brass tube and wind electrical tape around the tube until it fits tightly. If you want to spend more money, you can also cut off the bottom part of a soprano saxophone neck so the adapter will fit without the need of using tape as a sealant. As a final step, the frame is screwed to the brass plate with four 2-mm bolts and nuts (Fig. 5.36). Silicone can be added between the two plates as a sealant, and by avoiding the use of glue, the brass frame can be reused for the next reed.

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Fig. 5.36 Duduk reed mounted on a soprano saxophone

5.8.3 General Playing Instructions Once the adapter is built, the reader is confronted by the same challenge in preparing the reed faced by traditional duduk players. It is not easy to produce the unique duduk sound with the reed. In contrast to the saxophone embouchure, where only the lower lip is placed over the teeth, the duduk reed requires the typical double reed embouchure where both the lower and the upper lips cover the teeth. Saxophonists who are solely used to playing with a single-reed embouchure will need some time to build up the upper lip muscles, the same muscles that need to be trained for the cornett mouthpiece and the bassoon reed. Players should experiment with changing the vertical angle of the instrument and also test how far to insert the reed into the mouth for the best sound. In my case, I angle the saxophone a little bit higher than I would hold the regular saxophone, and I insert the reed into my mouth about as much I would insert the regular saxophone mouthpiece. Before playing, the reed tip needs to be soaked in water. I usually fill the bottom of a glass 2 cm with water and then place the reed inside the glass. The reed can be played once the moisture opens a gap between the two reed halves. While playing, the reed will open up further, so the gap needs to be adjusted constantly between songs using the bridle—the flattened tuning ring that is connected with a string to the cap. If the reed gap is too narrow, it will be difficult to produce a consistent tone over the whole range with the instrument. If the gap is too wide, too much air will be needed to produce a tone. The embouchure is not very demanding and quite relaxed, but the duduk reed generally needs a lot of air supply. This makes it challenging to play the instrument with circular breathing. The gap width between the reed halves also affects the tuning of the instrument. When finished playing, the reed guard needs to be placed on the tip of the reed and the bridle needs to be tightened.

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Otherwise, the gap between both reed tips will not close during the drying process. Instead, it will likely become too wide, and the reed will become unplayable unless it is remoistened and dried in closed form using the bridle and reed guard.

5.8.4 Songs The first song, I studied with the duduk reed is the well-known Armenian lullaby “Ruri-Ruri”:

The second song, Dle Yaman, or Déle Yaman, is an ancient Armenian love song that later became a hymn to commemorate the Armenian Genocide [72, p. 182]. It is, therefore, an exemplary case to highlight the aforementioned sadness that is a central part of the Armenian culture. The song is part of the collections established by Komitas (Soghomon Soghomonian, 1869–1935), an ordained Armenian priest, musicologist, and founder of the modern Armenian music tradition. Dle Yaman has many interpretations. The one below was compiled and transposed from an Armenian songbook [6, p. 102] and a transcription from a duduk recording by Lévon Minassian and Friends [175].

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The next piece for the saxophone with duduk reed is a song of my own, titled Floating with the tide. It was written with the maqam tradition in mind, where the instrument slowly explores the tones of a scale. Thus the name of the piece.

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I wrote the last song of this section as a crossover between a Southeastern European-style folk song and a jazz tune. The song is based on a traditional ABA’ sequence. I called the song Cafe Limon, after a cafe in Essen, Germany, where I used to play Turkish music every Friday night with my friend Murat Sanalmis.

Chapter 6

The Sonic Circle

6.1 On Diversity and Cultural Equality In this chapter, we will discuss how we can organize all the grafted instruments into a broader context. As an example, we will discuss a framework to define the relationships between the different instrument variations. The framework will be based on the idea of creating a large portfolio of different sounds and styles. Instead of looking for the one, iconic sound, we will explore how we can diversify our musical identity into several unique voices. Using the concept of internal diversity, a performer can draw and benefit from both intuitive and rational approaches to music. To achieve this goal, we will use the non-judgmental approach we discussed in the context of the Deep Listening philosophy in Chap. 4. First of all, we will need to define what diversity means. The Merriam Webster dictionary defines diversity as “the condition of having or being composed of differing elements [,] especially: the inclusion of different types of people (such as people of different races or cultures) in a group or organization.”1 Along with the idea of promoting diversity, typically the issue of equality and fairness is raised and endorsed as well. Even between the different musical genres within one culture, institutionalized inequality can occur. To this day, the German Gesellschaft für musikalische Aufführungs- und mechanische Vervielfältigungsrechte (GEMA) [Society for musical performing and mechanical reproduction rights] segregates its committee work into “serious music” and “light/popular music” [125, p. 14]. The system still favors “serious” music, granting the genre higher rates. This tradition goes back to Richard Strauss, who founded the Consortium of German Composers [Genossenschaft Deutscher Tonsetzer, GDT] [143, p. 30]. Strauss’ organization led to the foundation of the Institute for Musical Performing Rights [Anstalt für musikalische Aufführungsrechte, AFMA] which was later transformed into the GEMA. While one can certainly argue that particular forms of art should receive support, the 1 Entry

“Diversity,” Merriam-Webster Online [last accessed: Nov. 10, 2017].

© Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2019 J. Braasch, Hyper-specializing in Saxophone Using Acoustical Insight and Deep Listening Skills, Current Research in Systematic Musicology 6, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-15046-4_6

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underlying idea that certain genres of music are—by definition—of higher quality than other genres is really absurd. Before we dive into the practical aspects that allow us to work on our internal diversity, I would like to discuss the differences between intuitive and rational practices based on the early history of (wo)mankind. I hope the reader will agree with me that one way of thinking is not qualitatively above the other but that, instead, both ways of thinking are valuable tools for all of us to solve challenges, including musical ones adequately. For this discussion, I compiled some examples, for which I thought one approach was more useful than the other.

6.2 Tracing Our Ancestral Voices Back to Intuitive and Rational Thinking Free music can be seen as a microcosm that models a human society in a nutshell. The ensemble members can seek harmony, align with individual members, or demonstrate musical gestures that show disagreement. To some extent, one can even go to war with one’s bandmates. In this section, we will investigate how the intuitive and rational processes we discussed in Chap. 4 can be further motivated by studying early and existing cultures worldwide. When asking ourselves the question of how far back we can trace the ancestral voices of our musical instruments, we typically end up studying the cultures of the first settlers of a region—usually referred to as indigenous cultures. Figure 5.3 shows the trails of early human migration. The Australian Aborigines and the Native Americans are considered to be indigenous cultures because these groups were the first to settle in their homelands. Often, the term indigenous cultures is used to refer to cultures that traditionally keep a strong bond with nature and transfer their knowledge to the next generation via an oral tradition, which often includes sophisticated, curatorial practices. John (Fire) Lame Deer, a Lakota medicine man, describes the elaborate process of how important stories could only be told at ceremonies “when twelve old and wise men were present to make sure that what was told was right, with nothing added and nothing left out” [154, p. 201]. In many cases, indigenous cultures are still deeply rooted in intuitive thinking and embodied practice. This is what makes them so interesting for the Deep Listening community. If we want to reconsider our judgments and preferences from the ground up, we need to know what this ground is. Nature and our fundamental interaction with nature provide this basis. The natural foundations of Western and most Asian cultures existed long before the introduction of writing. Some elements of these cultures are still preserved through found artifacts. Other parts of their history might have been saved through an oral tradition, but it is now impossible to tell which parts of our oral tradition stem from our pre-writing tradition and which parts came afterward. Consequently, existing indigenous cultures can provide unique opportunities to study how the basics of a society are formed. We know for sure that much of these cultures’

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knowledge was formed through long-term experience rather than through rational thinking. The actions in early, indigenous societies were often based on intuitive processes. When studying different indigenous cultures, we find that they have many practices in common even though their societies never interacted since their common ancestors emigrated from Africa. So either these practices preceded this exodus, or some of our structures of thinking are so common that they automatically lead to the formation of similar practices.2 In either case, one can assume that early human societies elsewhere had identical ideas. Based on these similarities, it is not difficult to imagine that our own cultures have had similar practices and ideas at the earlier stages. When the Western settlers arrived in the New England states, they met Native Americans who were still hunting with stone-tipped arrows. Still, the culture of these native tribes was very rich and complex despite the lack of advanced technologies and a written language. Based on this insight, and spectacular prehistoric cultural artifacts in European and Asian caves, we must ask ourselves if we often underestimate the cultural complexity of the stone age. I often ask myself why the aborigines in Australia did not progress in similar ways to early indigenous people Europe and Asia. While this is impossible to determine for sure, a number of key reasons can provide speculative answers. For example, in order to progress, there needs to be a desire for development. Without a desire, development, if any, is much less likely. Until I studied Peter Gülke’s book on medieval music, I wondered for many years why there was so little technological development during the medieval ages. Gülke [117, p. 120] describes the medieval belief that the world was complete under a God-given order. Introducing something new was seen as questioning God’s perfect creation. To Gülke’s assessment, the contemporary composers were overwhelmed explaining the surge of many musical innovations as something already existing. In those times, one would not have been able to question the paradisal conditions God created for us on earth—see also Schnurr [242]. Progress could only occur if a justification was found to argue that the invention of something new was actually something that already existed in a different way. As another example, some Native American Nations would not engage in salt trade, one of the most basic forms of trade that typically initiates more complex trading activities. Native American Nations banned salt in the Northeast because it was thought to disgrace the soul. As soon as Western settlers arrived in North America, a number of these nations started to mine and trade salt for other goods—see de Lom d’Arce, Louis-Armand [163, p. 422], Heckewelder [123, p. 142], and Mann et al. [168, p. 340]. Usually, the desire for change aligns with an unsatisfactory condition that needs to be resolved. Most likely due to inhospitable conditions in Africa during the ice age, early humans migrated in the hope for better living conditions [100]. Desire is also a major force in improvised music. In minimal music, for example, the desire focuses on minimal changes in part to enhance the listener’s awareness of small

2I

recommend studying the field of human ethology to readers who would like to dive further into this subject—e.g., see Eibl-Eibesfeldt [85], Schmitt et al. [239].

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differences. Measured from a traditional virtuoso perspective, the minimalists may not appear to be very accomplished, but it requires good performance skills and sensibility to keep the attention span going this way with acoustic instruments. In my co-teaching experience with Pauline Oliveros, we observed that newcomers who joined Pauline’s Tintinnabulate student ensemble often brought their own musical expectations from traditional jazz or classical music along. Not used to the subtle nuances of the ensemble, newcomers could easily overtake the existing dialog within the ensemble and radically change it by playing traditional material.3 Similarly, in the 18th century, the European intruders could have listened, observed, and adapted to the Australian Aboriginal culture. They decidedly did not and instead forced their own worldview on the existing indigenous population. Another key factor is chance. Theoretically, every invention or change can be assigned a probability that it occurs. Let us take agriculture for example. In order to practice agriculture, one needs to observe that crops can be grown from seeds and this person or group of people then needs to have the desire, the need, and the patience to grow and harvest these crops. People have been known to engage in agriculture since about 8,000 BC [259]. This is only a tiny fraction of time of modern human existence. It is very likely that agriculture was developed independently in Europe, Asia, and the Americas by chance and that one day it would have also been discovered by the Australian Aborigines themselves if the Western settlers had not arrived earlier. It might have just been chance that agriculture was first developed in Europe and not in Australia. Once a culture has adopted agriculture, it nourishes the population so well that it automatically leads to population growth [259]. As a direct consequence, more land is needed for the inhabitants. This leads to unrest between neighboring tribes and warfare development. A growing population always required more regulation to ensure a peaceful co-existence between and within groups. We can observe a similar trend for music ensembles, and also here the need for a formal organization grows with ensemble size. A good example is the invention of music notation and theory. These are closely tied to emerging polyphonic techniques, which helped monks to memorize all vocal lines [117, p. 169ff.]. The Australian aborigines had a very adept social system to avoid social unrest, and since their particular way of living and extensive land use by hunting and gathering kept the population growth under control, a very peaceful relationship between different tribes was maintained over thousands of years [20]. As Sahlins [232] pointed out, the workload of a hunter and gatherer in Africa and Australia was, with only a very few hours a day, very low compared to the work hours of modern farmers or industrial workers. Within their natural environment, the Australian Aborigines have proven to possess skills that can outpace modern technology. For example, the Australian 3 I am probably not innocent here myself. When I first joined Tintinnabulate, I struggled to let go of

my traditional jazz background. In 2007, on the way to our telepresence concert at the International Conference of Auditory Displays (ICAD), Pauline told me how one of her first telematic projects was using the videophone. She complained that the system would only transmit the loudest voices while muting all the other channels. I joked that I didn’t think this would have been a problem for me, and she replied: “It sure wouldn’t.” The ICAD concert was later released as a digital video [39] and has been reviewed by Stallmann [257].

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Aborigines developed a system of songlines to orient themselves in sparse terrain. The duration of a songline that is recited while walking is used as a measurement for distance. In 1996, the then 61-year old German survival expert Rüdiger Nehberg raced on foot a distance of 600 km through the Kimberly Plains in the Australian Northern Territories against a 75-year-old Australian Aborigine and a high-techequipped, 34-year-old American runner [23]. Using his intuitive skills and detailed knowledge of the landscape, the Australian Aborigine was much faster than his Western competitors. According to Nehberg, the Indigenous Australian waited politely just before the goal for his competitors, so they could pass it jointly [23]. When I read the story, it came immediately to my mind that the modern jazz soloist is really trained as a sprinter. We play the theme of the song, and then play a solo that sparkles until we run out of breath. While all the other musicians get their solo turns, we can catch our breath in time to play the end theme. Even in the traditional form of free jazz, the soloist is either on or off but hardly blends into the ensemble to support someone else. Background riffs, played by the wind instrument section, are typically the only exception to this rule. We read stories about John Coltrane’s endurance, and how he sometimes exhausted everybody by having a strong embouchure that outlasted all of his bandmates, e.g., see Garment [104, p. 406]. There is this bodybuilder aspect among jazz wind-instrument players, and we tend to pride ourselves playing the loudest and most sophisticated horn, using an extremely challenging mouthpiece or reed. The trend of overshadowing others really goes back to the beginning of jazz. We hardly know anything about one of the first jazz trumpet soloist, Buddy Bolden. No known recordings of his performance exist, but many jazz musicians remember the story of how his tone was so loud and powerful that it could be heard far into the street outside the clubs he played, e.g., see Lomax [162, p. 60]. There have been several cases where a trumpet soloist played so loud that he ruptured his lip and muscle system so severely that it ended his career like a sportsman who has to resign after a sporting accident. These lip muscle injuries are often referred to the Satchmo Syndrome [208, 218, 219], because Louis Armstrong, who carried the nickname, was the first prominent trumpet virtuoso who had to pause for a longer period due to this type of lip injury. Like the high-tech runner, we carry a lot of baggage with us. Although it can be fun to stun our music colleagues, we have to ask ourselves if we could often reach our musical goals more efficiently and effectively than by brute force alone. In Western cultures, the music typically progresses in cycles of stress and relief, and the larger structure builds up to a climax before the music finally resolves. In the Australian didjeridu tradition, the music is much more of a continuum, an eternal drone, with additional sounds to imitate elements of nature [237, pp. 87, 102–105]. Often, the music appears to be at peace in itself, without having to create tension. Creating tensions and aiming to resolve them is also a central part of our larger society, often resulting from the desire for higher economic gains. The idea to voluntarily work many hours was not too familiar in the Western World before the Reformation. In Europe and elsewhere, reformers like Martin Luther and John Calvin demanded a hard work ethic in order to please God [282]. It can be argued that

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the newly given individual freedom that the Reformation provided also came with new obligations. Before the Reformation, high workloads were primarily achieved through involuntary work, namely through slavery or feudalistic relationships. Such systems never prevailed in the Australian Aboriginal societies. Desire often emerges in unpleasant situations. The following example shows a case where rational thinking turned out to be advantageous. Between the years 1300 and 1870, Europe suffered an extremely cold climate period, known as the Little Ice Age. The cold weather turned out to be devastating for crops, and malnutrition and hunger were widespread. In the second cold phase starting in 1570, people tried to mitigate the problem based on religious beliefs resulting in drastic measures including witch hunts. When these measures led to no success, rational approaches prevailed leading to the Age of Enlightenment, e.g., see Blom [27]. This new rational movement in conjunction with climate improvements provided new technical skills and resources that later led to the industrial revolution—but also set the ground for colonizing much of the world. Also with music, we find that rational thinking can often be very effective. I had many discussions with Pauline Oliveros about how practicing would lead someone to adapting to repetitive patterns. Although, I saw her point, did not always entirely agree with her assessment. Firstly, it is of course much easier for somebody very accomplished to give up traditional practice after having established a virtuoso degree of technical proficiency. Secondly, I believe daily training can be different for windinstrument players than for keyboard players because of the high demands on the embouchure. Thirdly, after having played with Pauline for a long time, I realized that she had her own vocabulary as well. It was much more complex than any other performer I engaged with, but at points, a complex structure would reoccur here and there. I always felt that I would run out of ideas if I did not actively nourish my repertoire with new material. Instead of practicing what I want to play in a performance, I often practice something very different, for example, a piece by Bach. Practicing has always helped me to develop fresh patterns and key combinations. Too often I only draw from my most basic standard patterns if I do not practice or play frequently. I believe that Pauline had reached a stage where she could pick up inspirations on the fly while playing with others, but this has not yet worked for me at the same level. Rational approaches, for example mathematically inspired tuning systems, also helped to create and preserve more complex music. Unfortunately, the success of the rational school of thought also came with a sense of superiority and entitlement. Especially colonized cultures were often belittled for their non-technologized lifestyles. They were frequently described as primitive, uncivilized and barbaric. The term “primitive cultures” became negatively charged, and so it was replaced by the politically-correct terms “indigenous people” or “ecosystem people” [71, p. 277]. Unfortunately, the term indigenous cultures does not say much about the lifestyle of a culture. It merely states that it resembles the first culture that arrived in a particular area. While it is true that many indigenous cultures are not very technology driven, the definition also includes cultures that are highly industrialized like the Japanese culture. The term ecosystem is already bizarre in the sense that one uses a very tech-

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nical term to describe an intuitively driven lifestyle. The term probably does not exist in the original vocabulary of many of these cultures. In Germany, the term nature people [Naturvolk] has been used historically, and the term is appropriate in the sense that it simply highlights the connection of a group of people to a nature-bound lifestyle. However, also this term becomes problematic if it is used as a contrast to civilized people [Kulturvolk], see discussion in Müller [185]. Such an artificial contrast disregards the fact that many nations are nature-bound and culturally-rich at the same time. Coming back to the question of why different regions in the world progressed at different paces in the early years of (wo)mankind, let us further discuss the effect of probability. With regard to statistics that predict when someone makes an invention, a simple model would determine this as the probability per person over a certain amount of time. The larger the population is, the more likely it will be that a particular invention is made. By the same token, we need to remind ourselves that we often judge things too short a timescale. Was it likely that African settlers ended up in Brasil while floating on a raft as suggested by Bednarik [14]? This is certainly unlikely in a given year, but if you look over a span of 10,000 or more years, it no longer seems impossible—especially when considering that there might have been many occasions when a similar journey ended in despair. Progress also depends on how individuals are connected. Only if one knows about an invention can it be used to make further improvements. It comes as no surprise that societies changed and evolved at a much faster pace as the world connected through new inventions like the printing press and the postal service. Many of the inventions that drove development in the Western World were imported from other cultures including the Indian/Arabic number system and Chinese gunpowder. In contrast, Australia was isolated for thousands of years, and the aboriginal people continued to live in small remote units. There is also always a chance that we commit errors. An error is usually defined as an unwanted element of performance where the performer accidentally plays something unintended or misses something intended. However, these errors can also be a great source of novelty. It is hard to imagine that the African settlers decided to take a raft to South America, and it is much more likely that they drifted off involuntarily. The next time you make a mistake, you might remind yourself that every mistake can be a great source of creativity and change.

6.3 Traditional Social Roles for Wind-Instrument Players Of course, music is not necessarily an autonomous body with a solely music-specific set of social functions between musicians. Instead, musical instruments have been used for a long time to carry official functions. The oldest preserved artifacts of trumpets are 3,000 years old and were found in Tutankhamun’s tomb [180]. Clearly, these instruments had an official function to support the pharaoh, and in antiquity, trumpet sounds were often used as a signal to announce speeches and open

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ceremonies. Trumpets also play a central role in the biblical Wall-of-Jericho legend (Joshua 6:1–27), where the instruments supposedly were so loud that their sound collapsed the defense wall of the enemy. Especially in a time before the concept of electric amplification was known, the naturally loud, commanding sound of the trumpet was ideal to carry authoritative functions and serve as a signaling instrument. In order to avoid abuse, the instrument was only accessible to licensed players who were often military officers—e.g., see Tarr [263, p. 67ff.]. Other instruments had different social functions. The Native Americans knew war between different nations, but their war songs were sung and accompanied by drums. The North American flute was mainly an instrument for ceremonies and courtship [63, 277, 278]. Also, the Native American flute remained a relatively simple design that had not changed much since the Stone Age flute except for the duct system. The origin of the latter cannot be determined for sure. The oldest known Native American flute with a duct system dates back to 1823 when it was obtained by the Italian Mississippi Explorer Giacomo Costantino Beltrami [15, 66]. A leading theory claims that the duct system of the Native American flute was adapted from Western flutes. However, the way the Native American flute is constructed differs significantly from the European recorder [111]. Its mechanism is also slightly more complex. It has an adjustable tone edge and a darker tone. For this reason, it is equally likely that the Native American flute is an adaptation of the traditional North American reed flute. If the North American flute with a duct had indeed been invented in the 1820s, this invention would have coincided with the development of the modern orchestral flute, which was started in the 1820s by Charles Nicholson and his father [281]. The father/son team developed a transverse flute with larger tone holes, which inspired Theobald Boehm’s invention of the aforementioned system bearing his name in 1832 [30, p. 3]. It is interesting to note that probably at the same time the European orchestral flute was being developed into a virtuoso instrument, the North American flute was improved so it could be played more easily by novices. Whether this is a pure coincidence or not, the duct flute made it easier to preserve the North American flute tradition, because this flute required less expertise to play basic songs compared to the rim flute. R. Carlos Nakai describes the general struggle to preserve Native American culture during the times of the European colonization in the liner notes for Nevaquaya [193, pp. 1–2]: When our amerind world ‘turned upside down’ with the dissolution and dislocation of tribal communities by encroaching colonial expansionism, many songs, stories, and family histories contained within the lyrical message of traditional music and many forms of material culture as well—were cast aside or forgotten in the struggle for survival.

The Native American flute became an instrument accessible to almost everybody. It therefore also raised much interest outside the Native American population. Like the South–East Asian bawu and the Armenian duduk, the Native American flute is an intimate instrument. All three instruments have a low volume that is ideal for a small audience—often an audience of oneself. Both the Native American flute and the bawu are ideal instruments for courtship.

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Instruments that help to preserve cultural traditions are often not subject to change in order to emphasize the traditional roots. For both the didjeridu and the duduk, it is frequently emphasized that they are among the oldest instruments in the world, even though there is no strict scientific evidence for this belief (but no evidence speaking against these theories either). Like the didjeridu, the duduk played an immense cultural role and served as a sign of identification for the Armenian people during the years of diaspora. The symbolic power of the duduk lasts until this very day. European wind instruments took a very different route. With the upcoming idea of the virtuoso at the beginning of the 1700s, instruments were redesigned to become louder, to produce a larger tonal range, and to maintain a more balanced tone quality within each register [16]. While orchestral instruments were also redesigned so they could be played more easily and accurately, the main focus was to adapt their sound to the needs of the contemporary orchestra. The recorder, which had an essential role in Renaissance and Baroque ensembles, was eliminated from the orchestra because it was not loud enough, challenging to intonate, and had a restricted tonal range. The primary role of the European recorder is now as an educational instrument for small children before they switch to the transverse flute or other orchestral wind instruments. The idea of the virtuoso soon culminated in competitions among performers to demonstrate that they could technically exceed others by articulating fast phrases, by exceeding others in the high range, by demonstrating a long endurance, by demonstrating circular breathing techniques or simply, by playing very loud. We seldom applaud someone for being able to play with a very low volume, which can be very challenging on its own. It is often emphasized how high a trumpet player can play. We often tend to forget that musicality often does not need traditional technique. Even after Chet Baker’s death, critics felt they had to defend his technique, even though he won the famous Down Beat Critics poll twice in 1953 and 1954, e.g., see Friedwald [102]. A very intimate musical situation can be destroyed if someone in the ensemble decides to outperform others. Avoiding this is one of the main goals of the Deep Listening community. I remember I once saw a concert with Albert Mangelsdorff, Ronald Shannon Jackson, and Peter Brötzmann at a Jazz Festival in Unna, Germany [167]. During this concert, Albert Mangelsdorff played very delicate multiphonic soundscapes, but Ronald Shannon Jackson and Peter Brötzmann got caught up in their power play. I thought Albert’s performance was the most interesting contribution, but it was difficult to follow his lines because his companions were too loud. Be it in real life or a musical improvisation, once you get a dominant force involved, a peaceful agreement among the other members is put at risk. For this reason, I believe it is important to make the soprano saxophone and other instruments more versatile. Their sounds should be intimate enough to cohere with other musicians socially. At the same time, an instrument should cover a wide range of styles and loudness levels to have an adequate voice for every occasion.

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6.4 The Sonic Circle In my practice, I started to divide my adapted instruments into a scheme I called the Circle of Sounds—see Fig. 6.1. In some ways, the Circle of Sounds is the opposite approach to the concept of an instrument family. An instrument family groups instruments of similar construction, but different sizes and pitches. In contrast, the Circle of Sounds represents a group of siblings where every instrument variation has the same root and size but all their sonic characters are very different from each other. The Circle of Sounds concept helps me to organize my instrument variations and serves as a platform to develop distinct character profiles for the grafted instruments. Fiction authors have used character profiles, in the form of text notes, to define the main traits and background for each figure. This way, the author gives each character a distinct, lifelike identity and avoids inconsistencies during the plot. My Circle of Sounds has an outer ring that includes four instrument variations that emphasize intuitive practices, and an inner circle comprised of four instrument variations that focus on a formalized or rationalized approach. As a self-defined line of separation, all instrument variations in the inner circle have to possess chromatic capabilities and a balanced timbre over a range of at least 2 1/2 octaves. The inner circle includes the saxophones with narrow- and wide-tip mouthpieces, the sarrusoIntuitive Culture

air

Flute

cold

dry

Narrow tip sax MP

water

Bawu

Bassoon

Rationalized Culture

Cornett

humid

Duduk

fire

Wide tip sax MP

Didjeridu

warm

earth

Fig. 6.1 Circle-of-sounds diagram connecting the saxophone variations to the four classical elements

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phone, and the Boehm cornett. In contrast, the instrument variations of the outer ring can have a tonal range of only 1 1/2 octaves or less. This group includes the instrument variations with the bawu reed, the rim flute, the duduk reed, and the pocket didjeridu. I should reemphasize that the distinction between the inner and outer ring is not meant as a hierarchical or hard division. The suitability of each instrument for a given musical situation depends on many factors aside from tonal range and timbral balance. In order to develop the individual goals and character profiles for each instrument, I decided to playfully align them with Aristotle’s four classical elements: water, earth, air, and fire [5]. These elements, often extended to a fifth element, were known in many ancient cultures in Greece, Egypt, Babylon, Tibet, Japan, and China, e.g., see Ball [11, p. 1ff.], Needham [191, p. 232ff.], and Monier-Williams [179, p. 798]. The concept was also part of the medieval theory of alchemy. Of course, this way of thinking has been superseded by modern chemistry. Nevertheless, the four-element diagram can be an exciting source of inspiration in art-related projects. While aforementioned variations of this ancient classification contained a fifth element, described as aether or void, or other minor alterations, we will stick to the basic concept of the four-element diagram here. Starting with the outer circle in Fig. 6.1, I began to align the four instrument variations, the bawu reed, the rim flute, the duduk reed, and the pocket didjeridu, to the four elements: water, earth, air, and fire. Given that the flute is the only wind instrument that does not need a mechanical oscillator to produce a sound, I immediately connected it to the classical element air. The pocket didjeridu was then assigned to the element earth, mainly because Australian Aborigines believe that the didjeridu represents the rainbow serpent, who created the landscape during the Dreamtime period. Left with two more designations, I affiliated the duduk with fire, based on its smoky sound, and the bawu with water as its sound can be as smooth as a slowly flowing river. According to Aristotle, each of the four elements was characterized by two of the four qualities: hot, cold, humid, and dry [5]. As shown in Fig. 6.1, the qualities are placed between the elements so that each quality points to two elements and two instrument variations. Since the instruments on the outer ring also serve as ancestral voices to the inner ring, I thought it would be interesting if each instrument of the inner ring would relate directly to two instruments of the outer ring as shown in Fig. 6.1. To accomplish this in my scheme, I rotated the inner ring by 45◦ with respect to the outer ring. As a consequence, the instruments of the inner ring now each correspond to two elements but only one quality. Within the inner ring, I used two different saxophone mouthpieces as separate characters. These two mouthpieces cover the opposite ends of what is typically used for tip openings. Together, these mouthpieces represent the two primary sound ideals of jazz. In my Circle of Sounds scheme, I use a Rousseau, Gauge-3, narrowtip saxophone mouthpiece to embody the introverted cool jazz ideal. In this scheme, the mouthpiece serves the quality of “cold” and draws from the elements “water” and “air”—see Fig. 6.1, “narrow tip sax MP” (MP = Mouth Piece). Especially, the element of “air” stands for the airy quality of this mouthpiece. The element of

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“water” characterizes the smooth, fluid style that is used with this mouthpiece to flow around the tonal centers of the chord progressions. The bawu and the flute are the main ancestral voices of the narrow-tip saxophone mouthpiece as these two instruments focus on a soft tone and melodic style. Note that in this scheme, the sound characteristics are the main criteria for assigning the ancestral voices rather than the details of construction or their historical development. The wide-tip saxophone mouthpiece represents the opposite end of the inner circle even though the physical construction of both saxophone mouthpieces is very similar. It is assigned to the “warm” quality, drawing from the elements of “fire” and “earth.” The style used with this instrument is very grounded and inspired by the elements of hot jazz. In this style, the extroverted soloist was often on “fire” when playing a solo. The duduk and the didjeridu were chosen as ancestral voices for this mouthpiece and its associated performance style. The duduk is one of the archetypes of Euroasian wind instruments, and, like the wide-tip saxophone mouthpiece, it requires remarkable endurance to produce an earth-like, bottom-heavy tone. Similar to the didjeridu tradition, additional vocal sounds are part of the standard repertoire for the wide-tip saxophone mouthpiece to create growl sounds, multiphonics, and voices layered on top of (or below) the saxophone sound. The sarrusophone embodies the “dry” quality, covering the elements of “air” and “fire.” Like the flute, the instrument has a dry, airy sound, but, in contrast to the cool quality of the narrow-tip saxophone mouthpiece and the flute, it can be on “fire.” The sarrusophone’s sound quality is not smooth but instead represents the crackling quality of wood logs burning in the fire. In contrast to the narrow-tip saxophone mouthpiece, its sound is also very powerful. The duduk is one of two examples where the ancestral voice uses the same tone generator-type (double reed) as the corresponding instrument of the inner circle. The other example is the didjeridu, which connects to the cornett. Both the duduk and the sarrusophone share a similar sound ideal, and they both focus on the low register with a bottom-heavy sound. The Boehm cornett is inspired by the “humid” quality, drawing from the elements of “water” and “earth.” The didjeridu and the bawu serve as its ancestral voices. The didjeridu offers the same sound-generation mechanism as the cornett, and the melodic bawu, with its balanced sound characteristics, is the cornett’s other sound ideal. Like the sound of the bawu, the sound of the cornett should have a smooth, liquid-like sound quality. The cornett’s sound should be clear like a mountain lake, where you can see the bottom at great depths. Its authoritative grounded, but restrained voice is symbolized by the “earth” and the life-supporting existence of “water.” Something earth-shattering would be needed to bring this instrument out of balance.

6.5 Practicing Through the Circle of Sounds Practicing all eight instruments of the Circle of Sounds is less demanding that it might appear at first glance. The only two instruments I practice every day without exception are the Boehm cornett and the rim flute. I practice the cornett daily

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because the embouchure requirements for this instrument variation are far more demanding than is the case for all the other grafted instruments. Both muscle memory and muscle strength need to be trained to reach the highest notes. Professional trumpet players usually never stop training their embouchure in order to keep the muscles built up. Usually, when I am traveling, I take the pocket didjeridu without the saxophone along. I have a cornett mouthpiece attachment for it, so I can train my embouchure playing the pocket didjeridu like a valveless baroque trumpet. Without the attached saxophone, which also operates as a bell, the instrument is not very loud. Fortunately, the embouchure training also helps to automatically maintain the embouchure for most other grafted instruments, including the embouchures for the regular saxophone mouthpieces, the double reeds, and the pocket didjeridu. Playing the pocket didjeridu does not require much embouchure, but it is a useful training tool for circular-breathing and vocalization techniques. The saxophone rim flute is very different from all the other instrument variations. It requires a unique set of fingering combinations, and also the embouchure for the instrument has nothing in common with the other seven grafted instruments. For these reasons, I try to practice the saxophone rim flute every day. Currently, I sometimes do not practice my regular saxophone for weeks. Since my lip muscle memory for playing the saxophone is in my long-term memory and the fingering is identical to the Boehm cornett, I do not have a problem falling immediately back into it after an extended break. The saxophone embouchure mainly trains the lower lip, so practicing only the saxophone embouchure will not do too much for maintaining the double-reed and brass embouchures. Compared to the saxophone embouchure, the embouchure for the bassoon reed is much looser, and the reed needs to be inserted further into the mouth than the regular saxophone. If the bassoon reed starts squealing while it is sufficiently wet, it is usually a good indicator that the lip tension is too tight or the reed is positioned too far out of the mouth. The bawu reed does not need a lip embouchure other than making sure the mouthpiece is inserted airtight. Once the reed has been tuned and adjusted, the instrument plays as easily as a recorder. It actually might be an attractive substitute for beginner saxophone students because it is easy to get a usable tone out of the instrument and, this way, the student can learn the fingering to play simple melodies first before worrying about getting a good tone. I find many synergies when practicing the eight instrument variations of the Circle of Sounds. Traditional cornett players are also known for picking up the recorder as a side instrument, so they can continue practicing music and fingering techniques after they have worn out their cornett embouchure. The only negative side effect of practicing one grafted instrument on my ability to perform on another arises when I experience bite marks on my upper lip from practicing high notes on the bassoon reed. This sometimes prevents me from reaching the highest notes on the cornett mouthpiece. In my experience, this is the only occasion where practicing one grafted instrument has negatively affected the ability to perform on another.

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6.6 Applying Sound Quality Now that we have introduced the different grafted instruments in Chap. 5 and have developed their character profiles in this chapter, we should come back to the issue of sound quality that was introduced in Chap. 4. We can use the latter approach to selfassess the quality of each grafted instrument against the suitability of its character profile. We will examine to what extent each character profile adequately represents the grafted instrument it has been designed for. Traditionally, the sound ideals for a musical instrument have been developed and carried along within this instrument’s school. These ideals are often handed down from generation to generation using a conservatory approach. Performers, who develop a sound ideal outside this mainstream thinking, often have a hard time getting accepted. Take the brilliant work of Cecil Taylor for example, whose free jazz ideas clashed with the musical culture of his time until his ideas were finally acknowledged. Also within the Deep Listening community, many provocative ideas had difficulties being accepted outside the community, especially when the performers did not possess traditional performance skills. Part of the problem is the lack of a general sound-quality framework that lets people judge new development more objectively than is currently practiced by the culturally-biased conservatories. The primary purpose of conservatories is, as the name suggests, the conservation of existing traditions. This approach is vital in order to maintain certain standards. A 19th-century symphony, for example, cannot be performed without players who master classical music. In contrast, many modern works cannot be executed if the performers only master traditional styles taught in these conservatories. In the discussion of the non-judgmental Deep Listening processes, I pointed out that the concept is not really non-judgmental, but that it does not simply judge music based on music conservatory-defined values. Instead, the Deep Listening performer should be open to non-traditional thinking. As discussed before, one way to find a more objective form of judgment is to use the product-sound-quality approach. Instead of judging quality per se, Blauert and Jekosch [25] introduced a concept to assess the adequacy of a sound for a given product, for example, the sound of a car engine or a vacuum cleaner. We will adopt this method, because it also has merits in the context of musical instruments and performance, at least on a conceptual level. As outlined in Chap. 4, Blauert and Jekosch use a two-step approach for soundquality judgment. In the first step, a character profile is established, often with the help of experts. The character profile contains the descriptions of the sound properties relevant for the specific task, for example, the sound pressure level of a car engine, the balance of different frequencies in the engine sound, as well as the auditory roughness and sharpness produced by the engine. Based on this character profile, the adequacy of the sound of car engines can be judged by a consumer group, often consisting of non-experts, in a psychophysical test. It is important to reiterate here that the method of sound quality does not judge the quality per se but assesses it in the context of a particular task. Consequently, the method can be applied to different types of

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music, and the adequacy of a grafted saxophone sound might change fundamentally depending on the musical style. There are three different ways to examine the sound quality of the different grafted instruments. Firstly, we can measure the sound quality as an absolute measure. Here, we measure the sound by itself without regarding historical issues or cultural expectations. Secondly, we can examine the sound quality based on the expectation for the ancestral voice, the original instrument the saxophone adaptation was derived from. Thirdly, we can examine the sound quality of each saxophone variation in conjunction with its unique character profile.

6.6.1 Absolute Sound Quality Assessment For the absolute sound quality assessment, each grafted instrument variation is evaluated in the absence of any external reference or expectation. Here, the aural characters and sound quality are judged per se. In order to establish the aural character for each saxophone variation, I developed a table that lists the main characteristics for each instrument type. Table 6.1 shows the subjective assessment for different windinstrument specific criteria. It is noteworthy that none of the instrument variations score high across the board. The narrow-tip saxophone mouthpiece, for example, scores high in many categories, but it cannot be played very loud, and also the

Table 6.1 Self-assessed adequacy of the eight mouthpiece variations for the soprano saxophone shown from left to right. Each row shows the ratings for a different acoustic feature from top to bottom: tonal range of the grafted instrument, dynamic range, suitability to be played chromatically, adequacy to be used with additional sounds from the human voice, easiness to be played in tune, adequacy as a traditional solo instrument, ability to blend homogeneously with other instruments, low burden on endurance, and the timbral variability. Except for the first and second categories, for which the sounding tonal range is given as musical intervals, and the dynamic range is given using dynamics, the ratings were denoted by the number of asterisks: ‘*’ = low adequacy, ‘**’ = medium adequacy, ‘***’ = high adequacy, ‘–’ = not applicable Narrow tip Wide tip Sarruso. Cornett Flute Didjeridu Bawu Duduk Tonal range Dyn. range Chromatic play Use voice In tune Solo adeq. Blending Endurance Timbral vari.













A13 –E6 pp–f ***

A3 –C7 mp–ff ***

A3 –C6 mf–f ***

A3 -F6 mf–ff ***

F4 –B6 pp–mf *

F0 or C1 pp–mp –

A3 –C5 A3 –D5 pp–mf p–mf *** **

** *** *** *** *** *

*** ** *** * * **

** ** ** ** ** **

* ** *** ** * **

*** * ** * *** **

*** (1 tone) * * *** ***

** * ** ** *** *

* * ** * ** **

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timbral flexibility of the instrument is limited. In contrast, the pocket didjeridu provides many opportunities for timbral variation, but it can only produce one fundamental frequency. From the table, it becomes clear that no instrument variation surpasses another in all categories. Instead, the advantage gained in one category often comes with a disadvantage in another category. For example, both the two loudest saxophone variations, the ones using the wide-tip-saxophone and cornett mouthpieces, have a much higher strain on the endurance than the other versions. The cornett can fatigue the embouchure within a few minutes when played in the highest range, but the narrow-tip saxophone mouthpiece can be played for hours without problems. While the cornett makes the player appear strong and powerful at first glance, the narrowtip mouthpiece suggests the player’s strength when she can continue to play for hours. The cornett and wide-tip saxophone mouthpieces are great to play a traditional foreground solo, but they are difficult to use as background instruments. Here the didjeridu and flute are much better for blending with a larger ensemble. By weighting these aural characters, one can assess the sound quality of each instrument variation for a given task. This, of course, could also be done as a formal user study with several participants. However, in general music practice, this will is typically done by the artist herself in an introspective manner, possibly with informal feedback from friends and close collaborators. In a traditional sound quality assessment, one would weigh the benefit and disadvantages for each mouthpiece and then pick one. I remember my struggles as a young saxophone student to decide between a wide-tip metal mouthpiece and a narrow-tip rubber mouthpiece for jazz, ending up with a Lawton 7* mouthpiece for my tenor saxophone. Within my Circle-of-Sound philosophy, I claim that we do not have to make this choice. Instead, we can use a set of mouthpieces, each being adequate for different tasks. So far, our character profile focused on absolute acoustic measures which can be easily measured instrumentally, such as the dynamic range of the grafted instruments. For absolute music,4 these parameters do not relate to anything else but music, and they can be judged purely based on their musical qualities.

6.6.2 Sound Quality of the Instrument Variations In addition to these absolute criteria, we have to keep in mind that we also have criteria that are associated with meaning. When connected to the cornett mouthpiece, the saxophone will always sound like a brass instrument to an expert even though the instrument still carries some traits from a saxophone, including the general timbre. However, one can hear out the brass mechanism of the instrument categorically. Here, we need to keep in mind that the human brain tends to assign many things to known categories. This way, the brain can associate meaning to the auditory events. Take, for example, the differentiation between the consonants ‘d’ and ‘t’. It can 4 Absolutus

is the latin term for “independent.”

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be easily shown that both consonants only differ in the gap of silence between the ending consonant and the following vowel, the so-called voice onset time (VOT). Now, if the consonant/vowel pair is generated synthetically with gradually varying VOT and presented to test participants, they do not observe a gradual shift between both consonants [55, 160]. Instead, the perceived consonant flips quickly at a given threshold as described in Gelfand [106, p. 416]. Similarly, a trained musician categorizes different wind instruments to sound generators: flutes, single reeds, double reeds, free reeds, or brass instruments. Each of these instrument types carries a culture-specific meaning and a preference that can change over time. A listener will usually inherently connect the sound of the didjeridu with Australian culture as long as he is aware of the fact that the didjeridu is an indigenous Australian instrument and is able to recognize the sound of the instrument. It can be shown that absolute acoustical properties were not the reason why free-reeds in pipe organs went out of fashion [35, pp. 411–414]. Instead, the associated meaning reminded both audience and critics of the free-reed harmonium sound that was charged negatively with amateur music performances. Most listeners will likely judge a saxophone with a cornett mouthpiece in the context of the brass-instrument tradition. Within this context, one could easily find that the timbre is not as bright as a trumpet rather than finding the timbre as bright as that of the regular saxophone. The performer will also be measured based on the conventions of these instruments. It appears that the tolerances for pitch deviations are more generous for flutes than for brass instruments. The reason for this is multifold. For example, the pitch strength of a trumpet, with its long, narrow bore and its richness in high harmonics, is stronger than that of a duller-sounding flute, which possesses wider resonance curves at each harmonic. Then, there are cultural conventions where one school can be more critical about something than another school. For example, the expectation for a pipe organ performer to play rhythmically appears to be less stringent than for piano players. It is sometimes amazing what virtuoso organ players get away with concerning timing. On the one hand, many organs are quite sluggish and performing on these with temporal accuracy is not easy. On the other hand, some pipe-organ players, such as Ludger Lohmann, demonstrated that this can be done [161]. If somebody performs on a Bach trumpet, the educated audience will know that the instrument is extremely challenging to play in tune and that the instrument needs massive embouchure corrections [249]. Consequently, the audience’s expectation is fundamentally different from listening to someone playing on a modern piccolo trumpet. A number of absolute sound criteria can be listed to explain why Maurizio Cazzati disbanded the cornett ensemble to replace it with a violin section. It is plausible that Cazzati decision was based on these or similar reasons. However, the exchange could have also been based on Cazzati’s association of meaning to the instrument. For Cazzati, the violin could have stood for a modern approach to music, while the cornetts could have reminded him of old traditions that should be put away with. Nowadays, of course, it is impossible to determine what was really going on in Cazzati’s mind. Unless we unearth the right document, we will never find out the real reason, and we can only continue to speculate why this change happened.

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6.6.3 Character Profile Suitability In the last section of the sound quality discussion, we will look into the adequacy of the individual saxophone variations to represent different character profiles, for example, to demonstrate distinct associated features of the four classical elements. The task is somewhat similar to a puppeteer who single-handedly plays a group of string puppets. Like the puppeteer, we face the challenge to give each character or instrument an individual role that allows the audience to identify it while avoiding obvious clichés that make the performance just laughable. The latter would wear out the characters in no time because there would be no depth to their role. A common way of developing sound characters is to look for a set of role models, who can serve as inspiration for the development of this role. To avoid merely copying these role models, it makes sense to use a couple of different role models for each character profile. It also can be beneficial to find a role model who plays a very different instrument, so a direct copy is not possible. Among my personal role models are: Paul Desmond (alto saxophone) and Lennie Tristano (piano) for the narrow tip mouthpiece; Archie Shepp (tenor and soprano saxophone), Steve Lacy (soprano saxophone), and Dave Liebman (soprano saxophone) for the wide-tip mouthpiece; Bruce Dickey (cornett), Lene Langbelle (cornett), Jeremy West (cornett), Bix Beiderbecke (cornet), Miles Davis (trumpet), Chet Baker (trumpet), Allison Balsom (trumpet) for the Boehm cornett; Dexter Gordon, Ben Webster, and Coleman Hawkins (all tenor saxophone) for the wide-bore sarrusophone; R. Carlos Nakai (Native American flute), Paul Horn (flute), and Jane Rigler (transverse flute) for the saxophone rim flute; Stuart Dempster and David Hudson (both didjeridu) for the pocket didjeridu; and Djivan Gasparyan and Léevon Minassian (both duduk) for the duduk mouthpiece; and Pauline Oliveros (accordion) for the bawu mouthpiece. In order to develop the individual roles, I am often comparing my own recordings to reference recordings of these artists. I spent quite some time figuring out which elements of their performance captivate me and which features I do not care so much about. This way I am able to focus on learning the essential features. Paul Desmond always fascinated me with his uniquely airy but very meticulous tone. I admire how he can hover with ease around chord changes without making a blunt statement. Dexter Gordon, on the other hand, impresses me by how he was able to make every note sound like it was carved in stone. Especially the low notes carried a lot of expression, and he was the master of the laid-back style. While most other tenor saxophone players stopped playing a ballad at 60 beats per minute (bpm), Gordon often played them as slow as 50 bpm. Concerning the cornett, I have been fascinated by Bruce Dickey’s work for a long time. His tone is very round, and he can compete with the modern trumpet player regarding tonal balance and intonation without losing the unique character of the cornett. His tone is also free of the noise substrate that is often found in the tone of other professional players.

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6.7 Case Study 1: The Stiff Cow Leads the Way In the following example, I used a jazz tune to develop the character profiles for different mouthpiece variations. For this purpose, I wrote a simple blues melody in the key of F and created a virtual band on my digital audio workstation to jam along at 120 bpm. The tune has the rebellious title The stiff cow leads the way after my family complained that my Boehm cornett sounded too stiff and cow-like. The theme goes as follows. The Stiff Cow Leads The Way (C part) Jonas Braasch F7

B 7

F7

B7

4 4 F7

C7

B 7

F7

The transposed B version is in the key of G: The Stiff Cow Leads The Way (Bb part) Jonas Braasch G7

C7

G7

C7

4 4 G7

D7

C7

G7

The song provides a unique opportunity for the Boehm cornettist to learn a blues in the key of F . The Stiff Cow Leads The Way (Natural B part) Jonas Braasch F 7

B7

F 7

B7

4 4 F 7

C 7

B7

F 7

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Fig. 6.2 Extending the Circle of Sounds to the four personality types of the antiquity

Narrow tip sax MP

Bassoon

Rationalized Culture

Cornett

Wide tip sax MP

In order to further develop the character profiles, I assigned the four ancient Greek temperaments or personality types, phlegmatic, choleric, melancholic, and sanguine [165, p. 53f.], to each instrument variation of the Circle of Sound’s inner ring—see Fig. 6.2.5 I assigned the ancient personality types to my instrument variations in the following way: 1. 2. 3. 4.

Sanguine (optimistic, active and social)—cornett Choleric (short-tempered, quick to be irritated)—wide-tip saxophone mouthpiece Melancholic (analytical, wise, and quiet)—sarrusophone Phlegmatic (relaxed and peaceful)—narrow-tip saxophone mouthpiece.

I then used each instrument type to play a solo over the 12-bar blues scheme while keeping these personality types in mind. My choice for the phlegmatic character fell immediately to the narrow-tip mouthpiece. I had West-Coast and Cool Jazz artists in mind when I developed this character, for example, Paul Desmond, whose solos are often so balanced that one could listen to them continuously without developing a desire for change. The following example is the transcription of one of the solos I recorded:

5 Of

course, from a scientific point of view, these personality types are outdated, partly because modern psychologists realized that the human mind is too complex to be confined to four static categories. This insight, however, proves the point of promoting internal diversity. Another reason this personality classification was disbanded is the unfortunate depiction of the phlegmatic character as passive and listless. The online version of the Collins English Thesaurus (2018), for example, provides negatively charged synonyms for the term phlegmatic including: unemotional, apathetic, dull, frigid, lethargic, and listless. Due to its perceived weakness, it is often treated as the most undesirable of the four character types. I never really shared this view, because one could also view this character type as the most balanced among all. I thought the sanguine type, typically seen as the most positive character among the four, also represented somebody who was so outgoing that it appeared to be unnatural.

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The Stiff Cow Leads The Way: Narrow-tip Sax Solo (in Bb) Chorus 1

3

3

4 4

Chorus 2

3 Chorus 3

3

The solo dances around the on-beats and major chord notes. A lot of alternate notes to the chord progression-based scales are used in this solo. This could be interpreted two ways. One could argue that the character does not always know the right notes. Alternatively, one could think that the character does not care too much about social conventions and expectations. In this case, one would believe that he does not want to be pinned down to strict rules. Next, I used the cornett mouthpiece to represent the sanguine character. The clarity of the treble brass instrument by itself can carry an optimistic and determined tone. I felt inspired by Bix Beiderbecke’s performances, who liked to march on the beat to carry the tune. The transcription of the solo with the cornett mouthpiece is shown below.

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The Stiff Cow Leads The Way: Boehm Cornett Solo (in Natural B) F 7 (Chorus 1)

B7

F 7

B7

4 4 F 7

C 7

B7

F 7

F 7 (Chorus 2)

B7

F 7

B7

3 F 7

C 7

3

3

3

3

3 3

3

B7

3

3

3

3

3 3

3 F 7

Note that this solo is in F instead of G, because the Boehm cornett plays a semitone higher than the other instruments. Playing in the key of F , the extended chromatic capabilities of the Boehm system come in handy. Instead of using the pentatonic blues scale with the minor third, A, the major third, A , is emphasized to signal optimism. The solo makes a statement by starting on this note. Also, have a look at the last four bars of the first blues chorus (Bars 9–12). Here, the cornett ascends into greater highs aiming at the note B5 before reaching the second chorus on the fundamental F5 . The solo favors larger music intervals than the previous one, aligning it with a vertical performance style. Also, note how the phrases tend to lead to high, sustained notes. It is no accident that the solo ends on the fundamental of the upper register. Of all my mouthpieces, the Otto link mouthpiece with its extremely wide tip has the angriest sound, and it, therefore, had the pleasure to play the choleric role. The example below shows the transcription of the solo.

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The Stiff Cow Leads The Way: Wide-Tip Sax Solo 3 Chorus 1

4 4 3

3

3

6

6

3

3

3

6

3

6

3 Chorus 2 6

6

6

6

6

6

6

6

9

9

6

6 5

3

3 3

3 9 3

3

3

3

The instrument does not wait to build up the solo. Angrily, it cuts right to the chase at full throttle. To demonstrate its superiority, the solo quickly extends into the altissimo range, reaching the highest note, B6 , in Bar 6. Starting with the second chorus, note the sheets of sounds. These occur as fast sextole progressions with two interleaved novemoles (9 counts per unit). Many notes can be found outside the traditional scales in addition to chromatic alterations. It is pretty clear that this instrument does not care too much about traditional conventions. Altogether, the solo has very little overall structure. Instead, it is a collection of disparate ideas with an ending on the fundamental G4 . This end is much less of a statement than the beginning of the solo was. One could conclude that the anger led to nowhere. The bassoon mouthpiece was used to play the melancholic role. The bassoon reed is a double reed like the duduk reed. In some ways, it is a modern version of it. Everything I learned about the sad role of the duduk was kept in mind when recording this solo:

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The Stiff Cow Leads The Way: Sarrusophone Solo Chorus 1

4 4

3

Chorus 2

3

3

The instrument stays mainly in the low register and a vibrato was often used to emphasize the melancholic state. Of all the recorded solos, it relates best to the blues tradition. My favorite experience around developing and practicing the solos for each mouthpiece variation was when I realized that the different characters were really in competition with each other. The characters in this project really took their own directions. Each character tried to find a superb way to shine in comparison to the other characters while performing together. Of course, the character profile method can also be used in conjunction with a single mouthpiece, but it can help to develop and to keep track of these characters if different tone generators represent them.

6.8 Case Study 2: Doppelgaenger The second example is a piece I developed for a Pauline Oliveros tribute concert that took place in the town hall of Kingston, NY on March 19, 2017.6 Since Pauline was a huge inspiration and discussion partner in the development of my mouthpieces, I decided to cycle through all eight instrument variations—keeping all the facets of our joint musical endeavors in mind. I wrote a simple melody that was the basis for all instrument alterations:

6 See,

https://madkingston.org/2017/02/14/a-celebration-tribute-for-pauline-oliveros/ [last accessed, July 20, 2018].

6.8 Case Study 2: Doppelgaenger

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Doppelgaenger Jonas Braasch

4 4

The purpose of this piece is to explore similarities and dissimilarities between the different character profiles for a grafted instrument. To achieve this goal, the guidelines were as follows: • Take a simple musical texture, the reference, as a common foundation for each character. • The reference can be a melodic phrase, rhythmic pattern, or timbral texture. • Play through your circle of instruments using one character profile at a time in any order you like. • Explore how you can use the reference to tie all the instruments into a coherent performance. • Investigate how each character profile can develop a unique contribution to the overall scheme by utilizing the unique affordances for each instrument instantiation. • Be aware of homogeneous or inhomogeneous transitions between the different characters. Before the performance, I worked on finding a unique way for each instrument to represent this melody. I used the collected ideas as skeletons for the performance. In the case of the pocket didjeridu, I sang the melody over the drone produced by the instrument.

Chapter 7

Sound Radiation, Recording, and Environment

Recording a wind instrument can pose a real challenge, and audio engineers have debated for many years how to best capture the essence of an instrument using one or two closely positioned microphones. The problem is that a wind instrument radiates sound in every single direction, and it has a unique sound character in each of these directions. The best microphone placement is usually determined by considering the following aspects: Firstly, the microphone should be placed in a position where the sound-pressure levels of the individual notes are balanced throughout the tonal range of the instrument. Secondly, the sound engineer should aim to find a point that represents a balanced frequency spectrum in general. For example, this spot should preserve the right mix between the low and high-frequency components of the instrument, while keeping this balance stable across the tonal range of the instrument. Thirdly, the microphone should be positioned to reject unwanted sounds in the recording optimally. For example, when recording the saxophone rim flute, one should avoid recording the direct breathing hiss produced by the jet stream. When recording the instrument in the context of an ensemble, the microphone should be placed so as to isolate the wind instrument from other instruments. The traditional recording spot for a curved saxophone is to point the microphone at the keys that are placed slightly above the bell. This is typically the region around the ‘A’ key. This way, the microphone captures both the bell sound and the sound radiated off of the holes of the higher keys. When the saxophone is recorded directly at the bell, which is usually done in live settings to isolate the instrument from other sounds, the lower register often tends to dominate, resulting in a loudness imbalance between the lower and higher notes within each register. When recording a straight soprano saxophone, it is difficult to place the microphone for an ideal balance between the bell and keyhole sound. Often, the microphone is placed further away to capture the sound of both sufficiently, or two separate microphones are used. In the latter case, one microphone is placed near the bell, and the other is placed pointing at the upper keys. Using two microphones, however, can be tricky because the captured sound of both microphones can interfere with each other when mixed together. For some frequencies, the recorded © Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2019 J. Braasch, Hyper-specializing in Saxophone Using Acoustical Insight and Deep Listening Skills, Current Research in Systematic Musicology 6, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-15046-4_7

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microphone signals will cancel each other out, and for other frequencies, they will add up. This depends on the phase relationship between both microphone signals. These frequency-dependent phase relationships change when the player is moving because of local distance changes between the instrument and the microphones and the fact that sound does not travel instantaneously. In the worst case, the phase shifts can be heard as sweeping and swooshing sounds. To make things in a record production more complicated, the goal is rarely to capture the natural sound of the instrument. Instead, a sound recording is usually seen as an artistic process to refine the sound of an instrument in order to meet an artistic goal. We therefore often remember and judge the sound of an instrument based on a recording, rather than how it naturally sounds. To make the point, Maurice André’s recorded trumpet concertos are among the most respected releases of the classical-music repertoire because André glides with ease and technical perfection on top of the orchestra. In this context, it is often overlooked that André’s sound was acoustically isolated from the remaining orchestra and then recorded with a closely positioned microphone [275]. The sound pressure level of his sound, which was played at a much lower dynamic level than would be needed to compete against the orchestra, was then electronically raised during the mixing process. There are also unique timbre expectations for each instrument. The French horn is an excellent example of this, as its bell radiates backward giving the instrument the desired indirect, dark sound. During a recording, the French horn is rarely captured with a microphone near the bell. Most horn players will agree that the sound is too raspy and bright when recorded at this spot like a trumpet. In order to satisfy the sonic needs of my different mouthpieces while keeping the technical setup manageable, I developed a two-microphone technique that works for all of my instrument variations. In this scheme, a ribbon microphone is placed near the bell of the soprano saxophone with the directivity pattern pointing toward the instrument. The microphone is placed about 30 cm away from the bell and positioned slightly off the instrument’s axis by about 10 cm. The ribbon microphone supports a bell-shaped sound for the cornett mouthpiece as it deemphasizes unwanted noise at high frequencies. The second microphone, a large-diaphragm condenser microphone, is placed 40 cm above the instrument pointing at the ‘G’ key. Using a mixture of both microphone signals usually works for all the instruments. With just the condenser microphone, the saxophone with the cornett mouthpiece sounds too dark for my desired sound, but this microphone adds sonic texture to the bell-microphone signal. When recording the saxophone rim flute sound, I move toward the condenser microphone so that the microphone is close to my mouth. The microphone should point outside the direct jet stream. I suggest performing test recordings until the best spot to record each instrument variation has been found. For the pocket didjeridu, only the bell microphone is needed since the keyholes are closed most of the time, meaning that there is often no sound radiated from there. My goal is usually to create the optimal sound through the best microphone placement. I only equalize the sound moderately during the post-processing, if at all. However, it might be necessary to readjust the input gain for the different mouthpiece variations because their output

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179

levels vary greatly. If a high bitrate resolution is used for the recording, one might prefer to adjust the level to the loudest instrument variation, probably the cornett mouthpiece or the wide-tip saxophone mouthpiece, and then leave it there. Figures 7.1, 7.2, 7.3, 7.4, 7.5 and 7.6 illustrate the sound differences between the bell microphone and the overhead microphone using the technique described in the last paragraph. In all cases, the results for the overhead microphone are shown in the left column, and the results for the bell microphone are depicted in the right column. All spectra have been normalized, so the highest partial tone is 0 dB. Figure 7.1 depicts the results of the first four saxophone variations for the sounding tone E of the lower register (E4 , 329.63 Hz). For this tone, most of the keys are closed, and the effective resonator length is relatively long. When recorded with the overhead microphone, the second partial tone has the highest magnitude. In some cases, the magnitude of the fundamental tone is equally high (wide-tip saxophone mouthpiece, cornett mouthpiece) or up to 5 dB lower (narrow-tip saxophone mouthpiece, bassoon mouthpiece). In general, the magnitude of the partial tones decreases with frequency. The main differences between the overhead and bell microphone recordings for the same instrument are the higher magnitudes of the partial tones 4–12 when recorded with the bell microphone. In some cases, the magnitude increase can be on the order of 20 dB—e.g., the sixth partial tone of the recorded narrow-tip saxophone sound. Overall, the frequency spectra are fairly similar between the four saxophone variations, which comes as no surprise, since all tones are produced using the same saxophone resonator. Only the sound of the sarrusophone is much darker, and in the case of the other three instrument variations, the onset characteristics of the different tone generators provide the dominant cues to discriminate between these instrument versions. The next four saxophone variations are shown in Fig. 7.2, from top to bottom: duduk, rim flute, bawu, and pocket didjeridu. When possible, the tones were recorded for the same sounding tone, E4 , but this was only an option for the duduk and the bawu. Due to its limited low range, the pocket didjeridu was recorded for the tone C2 (65.41 Hz) as it can only produce one fundamental tone. One characteristic common among all four shown instrument variations is that they have less energy for the higher partial tones than the regular saxophone. When recorded at the bell, the higher partial tones of the duduk are all 18 dB or below the energy of the fundamental tone. The second partial tone is higher, though, when recorded with the overhead microphone. The rim flute has the darkest overtone spectrum among all instrument variations. When recorded with the overhead microphone, the only significant overtone is the second partial tone which is still more than 20 dB below the magnitude of the fundamental. When recording the same tone with the bell microphone, the second partial tone is nearly 40 dB below the magnitude of the fundamental. Measured here, the rim flute hardly produces any overtone, and for this reason, this instrument variation is typically recorded with the overhead microphone positioned close to the edge of the neck but pointing away from the blown airstream. The bawu has more energy in the higher harmonics than the rim flute and the duduk reed but still less than the regular saxophone. Its tone is characterized by the prominent second partial tone which is at

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7 Sound Radiation, Recording, and Environment

(a)

(b)

(c)

(d)

Fig. 7.1 Frequency spectra for four different saxophone mouthpieces for the tone E4 (329.63 Hz). The left graphs show the spectra that were recorded with an overhead microphone; the right graphs were recorded with a second microphone at the bell of the instrument

least 10 dB above any other partial tone. When recorded at the bell, the pocket didjeridu’s fundamental is the most energetic partial tone and the energy rolls off with frequency toward the higher partial tones. Two formants around 600 and 1500 Hz

7 Sound Radiation, Recording, and Environment

181

(a)

(b)

(c)

(d)

Fig. 7.2 The same frequency spectra as shown in Fig. 7.1 but for three further mouthpiece variations. The didgeridoo example shows the spectrum for the tone C2 due to range limitations (Left graphs: overhead microphone, right graphs: bell microphone)

characterize the sound of the instrument. As mentioned before, the positions of these formants can be modified using the vocal tract to modulate the sound, allowing for the production of didjeridu specific sound textures.

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(a)

(b)

(c)

(d)

Fig. 7.3 Same as Fig. 7.1 but for the tone B4 (493.88 Hz) (Left graphs: overhead microphone, right graphs: bell microphone)

Most of the characteristics measured for the tone E4 are preserved for a higher tone B4 —see Figs. 7.3 and 7.4. Note that the example of the pocket didjeridu is no longer shown as it can only produce one tone. Also for the higher tone, the instrument variations produce a richer overtone spectrum at the bell microphone compared to the

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183

(a)

(b)

(c)

Fig. 7.4 Same as Fig. 7.4 but for the tone B4 (493.88 Hz) (Left graphs: overhead microphone, right graphs: bell microphone)

overhead microphone. Note that the second partial tone of the bawu is no longer the dominant partial tone. In all measured instances, the fundamental carries the highest energy. Figures 7.5 and 7.6 depict the highest measured tones, E5 . For most instrument variations this tone was measured by blowing the instrument in the upper register. However, for the duduk and bawu reeds, the sound had to be produced using the side keys as these instrument variations are not capable of overblowing into the higher register. In general, the main trends found for the tones E4 and B4 are preserved. Also for this tone, the fundamental continues to be stronger than the second harmonic. In general, the sound continues to be richer in the overtones when measured at the bell microphone as compared to the overhead microphone. For the cornett mouthpiece, however, the spectra measured for the overhead and bell microphones are now almost

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7 Sound Radiation, Recording, and Environment

(a)

(b)

(c)

(d)

Fig. 7.5 Same as Fig. 7.1 but for the tone E5 (659.25 Hz) (Left graphs: overhead microphone, right graphs: bell microphone)

identical. The spectrum of the sarrusophone is also noteworthy because the higher partial tones now dominate when measured with the bell microphone. For this tone, the fifth partial tone is approximately 10 dB higher than the fundamental tone.

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185

(a)

(b)

(c)

Fig. 7.6 Same as Fig. 7.2 but for the tone E5 (659 Hz). The didjeridu is no longer shown because its range is restricted to a single tone (Left graphs: overhead microphone, right graphs: bell microphone)

I recommend recording the different instrument variations frequently during practice. This procedure helped me shape the sound of each tone generator. Too often, I found that my expectation for the desired sound biased what I actually heard. Recording the instrument can help to compensate for this bias, and the performer can learn this way to grasp the sound difference between the audience location and the performer location behind the bell. Playing directly against a wall is another way of learning how the instrument sounds out of the bell. The recordings should not only be compared to recordings of instruments which serve as direct models of the desired sound, but also to other instruments. I struggled for a while with the fact that the Boehm cornett did not sound as brilliant as the trumpet. Paying attention to other modern brass instruments helped me to readjust my expectation. Listening to the French horn especially enabled me to understand

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that it was not really the dark timbre that bothered me, but rather other factors, including the attack phase of my tone, and necessary improvement in the tuning. I would like to end this chapter with an anecdote from my trip with the Deep Listening Band to the Dan Harpole Cistern in 2009. During this trip, I told Stuart Dempster that I did not know what to practice because I could not imagine how the sound of the cistern would respond to my saxophone. Stuart said “Of course,” and then told me that he always instructed his trombone students to practice in a reverberant stairwell and then a bedroom closet, full of clothes. This way, he told me, the students learn to play in different acoustic settings, and they are prepared for the extremely dry and reverberant scenarios that they might encounter during their performance career.

Chapter 8

Epilogue

The methods described in this book should be treated as a starting point rather than as a presentation of the complete teaching method. The interested reader will probably gain more insight by using this book as the motivation and inspiration to develop their own concept rather than following this book as a step-by-step teaching method. I hope I was able to convince the reader that it is possible to equip a wind instrument with different sound generators and to perform with these adaptations at a high proficiency level. I do not see a reason why this concept should not be adaptable to other wind instruments, for example, the tenor saxophone or the trombone. For my personal journey, I am looking into methods that enable me to switch quickly between the different mouthpiece prototypes. My most recent approach is an adapter called the Revolver Sax, where three different mouthpieces can be rotated quickly to connect to the saxophone bore—see Fig. 8.1. In another attempt, I am extending the saxophone with an additional conical-resonator segment when played with the bassoon reed. The additional resonator makes the instrument bore twice as long. This way, the instrument can sound an octave lower than the regular soprano saxophone. At one end, the extension has the same diameter as the bassoon reed, and from there, it opens gradually to the diameter of the saxophone neck joint. The sound of the extended instrument is useful and balanced, but the key system is profoundly affected. The keyholes are now spaced in quartertones rather than semitones, and the range of the extended bore is only about half of an octave before it overblows into the next octave. I am currently developing an additional valve system that can selectively engage the resonator extension. The valve system could do this in two separate steps of an octave and a fourth, but I have not yet built a reliable valve system that would make the instrument practical to use.

© Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2019 J. Braasch, Hyper-specializing in Saxophone Using Acoustical Insight and Deep Listening Skills, Current Research in Systematic Musicology 6, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-15046-4_8

187

188 Fig. 8.1 Revolver Sax adapter for the soprano saxophone, enabling a quick switch between three different mouthpiece variations: the regular saxophone mouthpiece, the bassoon reed, and the cornett mouthpiece

8 Epilogue

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Index

A Absolute music, 166 Acoustic coupling, 26, 82 Age of Enlightenment, 56, 156 Ahrens, Christian, vi Airflow, 14, 15, 19, 27, 29, 32, 36, 41, 105, 124, 125, 135 Akinmusire, Ambrose, 102 Altissimo range, 36, 39, 173 Ambrose, Joey, 43 Ancestral voice, 3, 152, 161, 162, 165 André, Maurice, 178 Aperture angle, 11, 89 Aristotle, 161 Armenia, 140 Art of the Fugue, 55 Attack phase, 21, 23, 49, 186 Auditory event, 48, 67, 166 Auditory Scene Analysis, 3, 52, 54, 55 Australian Aboriginal culture, 104, 118, 152 Ayler, Albert, 79

B Bach, Johann Sebastian, 55, 87, 101 Bach, P.D.Q., 75 Baker, Chet, 159, 168 Balinese scales, 67 Bang on the Can Festival, 49 Baroque trumpet, 91 Bassoon, 3, 17, 21, 63, 67, 73–75, 80–84, 140, 146, 163, 173, 179, 187, 188 Bawu, 12, 16, 18, 21, 73, 74, 127–138, 158, 161–163, 166, 168, 179, 183 Bechet, Sidney, 79, 82

Bee sanai, 128 Beiderbecke, Bix, 171 Berlioz, Hector, 78 Be-Thae Wa-an (Song), 113 Bird calls, 60, 104, 107, 116, 125, 126 Blauert, Jens, vi, 65, 164 Boehm cornett, 94, 168, 171 Boehm flute, 94 Boehm, Theobald, 76, 77, 94 Bostic, Earl, 43 Brandenburg Concerto No. 2, 88, 102 Brass instrument, v, 2–4, 12, 13, 15, 16, 18, 21, 32, 36, 63, 69, 73, 75, 77, 88–93, 96–99, 124 Braunstein, Günter, v Breathing, 2, 40, 111 Bregman, Al, 52 Brötzmann, Peter, 66, 159

C Cafe Limon (Song), 149 Cage, John, 49, 67 Cazzati, Maurizio, 90, 101 Character profile, 65, 160, 166, 168 Chippewa Nation, 114 Chroma, 142 Circle of Sounds, v, 76, 160 Circular breathing, 40–42, 111, 124, 125, 143, 146, 159 Clarino register, 92 Clemons, Clarence, 43 Coding music, 138 Cokken, Jean, 78 Coleman, Ornette, 68, 79

© Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2019 J. Braasch, Hyper-specializing in Saxophone Using Acoustical Insight and Deep Listening Skills, Current Research in Systematic Musicology 6, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-15046-4

201

202 Conical resonator, 89, 187 Conservatory, 3, 68, 78, 164 Cool jazz, 79 Cornet, 89 Cornett, 3, 18, 19, 21, 28, 37, 42, 73, 74, 89– 102, 146, 162, 163, 166, 167, 169, 171, 172, 178, 179, 183, 185, 188 Crow Dog, Henry, 104 Cultural conventions, 68

D Dadirri, 121 Dan Harpole Cistern, 57, 117, 186 Davis, Miles, 100, 168 Daydream (Song), 85 Debussy, Claude, 79 Deep Listening, vi, 2, 47, 49–51, 57–61, 63, 64, 68, 71, 72, 121, 151, 152, 159, 164, 186 Deep Listening Band, 57 Dempster, Stuart, 42, 57, 168, 186 Densmore, Frances, 107 De Prez, Josquin, 100 Desmond, Paul, 43, 66, 168 Dickey, Bruce, 90, 94, 168 Didjeridu, 3, 13, 16, 42, 43, 73, 74, 104, 105, 117–126, 155, 159, 161–163, 166– 168, 175, 178, 179, 181, 182, 185 Digital waveguide, 29 Dle Yaman (Song), 147 Dongois, William, 94 Donizetti, Giuseppe, 86 Doppelgaenger (Song), 174 Double reed, v, 12, 13, 15, 30, 32, 81, 82, 84, 86, 96, 115, 140, 146, 173 Double reed instruments, 140 Downstream brass technique, 96 Dreaming, vi, 50, 58, 107, 121 Dreamtime, 120 Drone, 124 Duct system (for flutes), 14, 105, 107, 110, 158 Duduk, 15, 73, 74, 140–148, 159, 161, 162, 166, 168, 173, 179, 183 Dynamics, 137, 166

E Ecosystem people, 156 Embodiment, 58, 61, 152 Embouchure, 13–16, 18, 19, 24, 41, 42, 63, 75, 84, 89, 90, 92, 95, 97–99, 101,

Index 108–111, 124, 146, 155, 156, 163, 166, 167 Enauditioning, 51 Etenraku, 115 Everywhen, 120

F Feili, 127 Finger holes, 5, 9, 10, 18, 26, 27, 77, 78, 81, 89, 92–94, 127–129, 140, 158 Fingering chart, altissimo register, 40 Fingering chart, Boehm cornett, 99 Fingering chart, saxophone rim flute, 110 Fingering chart, saxophone with bawu reed, 135 Fletcher, Alice, 113 Floating with the tide (Song), 148 Focal listening, 49 Formant, 34, 61 49th Day Passing of Pauline Oliveros (Song), 117 Fou, 131 Free jazz, 66, 68, 79, 155, 164 Free reed, 2, 3, 12, 15, 16, 18, 19, 28, 29, 31, 127–131, 134 Frequency spectra, 17, 52, 124, 179 Fundamental frequency, 7

G Gasparyan, Djivan, 141, 168 Gautrot, Pierre-Louis, 80 Gestalt theory, 55 Getz, Stan, 43 Ghamish, 140 Gillespie, Dizzy, 100 Global listening, 49 Gordon, Dexter, 168 Gould, Glenn, 55 Grafting (wind instruments), 73 Greek temperaments, 170 Growl, 42, 126 Gülke, Peter, 153

H Hani minority, 127 Harmonic oscillator, 14–16, 29, 131 Harris, Eddie, 3, 75 Hawkins, Coleman, 42, 79, 168 Hichiriki, 115 Hmong minority, 127 Hmong music code, 138

Index Hohle Fels Cave, 104 Holistic ensemble sound, 55 Homo-sapiens, 119 Hopi Nation, 112 Hopi Snake Dance (Song), 113 Horizontal solo style, 79 Hot jazz, 79 Hudson, David, 104, 168 Hulusi, 128 Hüzzam Saz Semai, 86 Hyperconsciousness, 50 Hyper-specialization, v, 1

I ICAD conference, 154 Impedance, 6, 11, 27, 39, 111, 135 In a Far-Away Place (Song), 136 Indigenous cultures, 152 Indigenous people, 58 Internal diversity, 3, 151 Intonation, 14, 35, 75, 90, 98, 99, 108, 112, 167, 168 Intuitive thinking, 1, 34, 47, 50, 57, 60, 64, 68, 104–106, 124, 151, 152, 155, 157, 160 Involuntary musical imagery, 48 Ione (Carole Lewis), vi, 58

J Jackson, Ronald Shannon, 159 Jekosch, Ute, vi, 65, 164 Jesus bleibet meine Freude (Song), 101 Johnson, Gabriel, 102

K Kerbaj, Mazen, 62 Keys, 9, 10, 26, 77, 78, 92, 94, 177 Khaen, 128 Klinger, Herbie, v Konitz, Lee, 43 Krummhorn pipe, 19

L Lady Meng Jiang (Song), 136 Lame Deer, John (Fire), 152 Larynx, 33 La Zambecari (Song), 101 Lene Tawi (Song), 112 Lip tension, 124

203 Lip vibration, 5, 12, 14–16, 28, 96, 98, 124, 155 Liquid Mountain (Song), 137

M Mandischer, Joachim Christoph, 91 Mangelsdorff, Albert, 159 Man Jiang Hong (Song), 115 Maqam, 87, 142 Mec’kawiga’bau, 114 Miao Minority Song, 136 Miao people, 136 Mille Regretz, 100 Minassian, Lévon, 147, 168 Missin, Pat, 136 Model, wind instrument, 28 Mugham, 142 Musical instrument classification (Chinese), 130 Musical instrument classification (Western), 3, 12, 76, 131

N Nagy, István, v Nakai, R. Carlos, 104, 107, 158, 168 Nasal cavity, 33 Native American culture, 104, 152 Native American flute, 14, 104–107, 110, 158, 168 Nature people, 157 Nercessian, Andy, 141 Neutral third, 68 Nevaquaya, Doc Tate, 104 Nonjudgmental perception, 50

O Oliveros, Pauline, vi, 2, 47, 50, 57, 67, 117, 154, 156, 168, 174 Omaha Nation, 113 Opening area, 29 Ophicleide, 77 Oral history, 104, 119, 121, 128, 152 Overblown register, 140

P Partial tone, 7–9, 11, 12, 17–19, 21, 23, 25, 30, 39, 53, 55, 66, 78, 89, 94, 96, 97, 179, 180, 183, 184 Pawnee Nation, 107

204 Pitch, 9, 14, 16, 19, 24, 25, 41, 42, 44, 45, 61, 62, 69, 84, 87, 89, 90, 92, 94, 97, 102, 110, 124, 126, 134, 167 Pootai people, 128 Popular music, 151

Q Qeej, 128 Qiang minority, 115 Qinghai Province, 136 Quality factor, 29 Quartertones, 187

R Raj nplaim, 128 Ramish, 140 Rational thinking, 1, 45, 47, 50, 56, 57, 59, 62, 70, 151–153, 156, 160 Ravel, Maurice, 78 Reed displacement, 29 Reed force, 29 Reed mass, 29, 132 Renaissance, 18, 90 Resistivity, 27 Resonator, conical, 11 Resonator, cylindrical, 5 Resonator length, 7 Reverberation, 49, 56, 57, 103, 117, 186 Revolver Sax, 188 Rigler, Jane, 168 Rim flute, v, 3, 5, 8, 10, 12–14, 18, 21, 24, 42, 43, 47, 104, 105, 107–112, 115–117, 130, 158, 163, 166, 177–179 Rothphone, 81 Ruri-Ruri (Song), 147 Ry¯uteki flute, 115

S Sanalmis, Murat, 149 Sáo mèo, 129 Sarrusophone, 81, 166, 173 Sarrus, Pierre-Auguste, 80 Sarruxophone, 81 Satchmo Syndrome, 155 Sax, Adolphe, 75, 77, 81 Saxhorn, 75 Saxophone, 77 Saxotromba, 75 Scheffel, Matthias, v Schickele, Peter, 75 Schrödinger, Erwin, 50

Index Serious music, 151 Shakuhachi, 14, 105 Sheets of sounds, 173 Sheng, 128 Sho, 128 Shofar, 88 Siblings (of instruments), 76 SIGGRAPH Conference, 65 Single reed, 13, 15, 19, 84 Soft palate, 33 Sompoton, 129 Songlines, 155 Song of the Drum, 115 Song of the Pipe, 114 Sonic Meditations, 57 Sound pressure, 5–14, 16, 17, 20, 21, 27, 29, 30, 65, 94, 125, 164, 177, 178 Sound quality, vi, 3, 40, 65, 67, 68, 74, 105, 162, 164–166, 168 Sound radiation, 177 Sound Shadows (album), 57 Speed of sound, 7 Stewart, Jesse, 71 Stiff Cow Leads the Way (Song), The, 169 Stone Age, 104, 153, 158

T Tale of the Silk Road (Song), 137 Tanburi Büyük Osman Bey, 86 Teach Yourself to Fly (Sonic Meditation), 58 Tetrachords, 141 Timbre, 2, 15, 32, 42, 63, 78, 86, 90–93, 111, 124, 125, 137, 160, 166, 167, 178, 186 Tonal code example, 138 Tonal Message (Song), 139 Tone generator, 2, 3, 5, 12, 13, 26–28, 32, 73, 76, 81, 131 Tongue articulation, 24, 26, 69, 111, 125, 134 Tongue Controlled Embouchure (TCE), 36 Totemism, 120 Transparent ensemble sound, 55 Transposition, 43, 94, 100, 110, 111, 135, 169 Transverse flute, 9, 14, 75, 76, 94, 158, 159 Triple Point, vi, 57, 71 Trumbauer, Frankie, 43, 79 Trumpet, 3, 12, 28, 42, 69, 70, 75, 79, 89, 91–97, 99–102, 155, 157–159, 163, 167, 168, 178 Tuning Meditation, 60 Turmspielen, 91

Index U Unbiased perception, 50 Understanding the environment, 51, 64 Upstream brass technique, 96 Uvula, 33

V Valves, 26, 77, 88, 89, 91–93 Van Nort, Doug, vi, 57, 71 Vertical solo style, 79 Vibrato, 42, 53, 79, 112, 174 Virtuoso, 3, 71, 156, 159, 167 Vloeimans, Eric, 102 Vocal cords, 33, 44, 58, 126 Vocal tract, 2, 16, 19, 26–28, 32–37, 39, 40, 61, 76, 97, 98, 111, 124, 125, 134, 181 Voice, 2, 16, 28, 33, 42, 43, 57, 58, 63, 64, 72, 79, 107, 124, 125, 141, 159, 162, 166 Voice onset time, 167

205 W Wang, Luobin, 136 Wantia, Lothar, v Wavelength, 7, 8 Webster, Ben, 43, 79, 168 Werni, Stefan, v West, Jeremy, 90, 93, 94, 168 Whisper tone, 102

X Xiao flute, 115 Xun, 131

Y Yi minority, 127 Young, Lester, 43, 79 Your Lamp Trimmed and Burning (Song), 85 Yuchi Love Song, 114 Yuchi Nation, 107, 114 Yue Fei, 115