I think that as a doubler it’s easy to consider your ability level “good enough” on a secondary instrument. Check your doubles below, and ask yourself what you can do to raise the level of your playing. I’ve given just a few examples of “next level” techniques on each instrument.
Flute
Can I play up to the highest notes (4th octave C, C-sharp, and D, for example) with delicacy?
Can I play the lowest notes with power and confidence?
Can I double and triple tongue fluently and without having to think about it?
Oboe
Has my tone progressed past the “duck” phase? Is it rich, dark, and flexible? Even in the high register?
Am I thoroughly comfortable with the various F fingerings—right, left, and forked—and prepared to choose the right ones even while sightreading? How about E-flat fingerings?
Do I depend on others for reeds, or am I capable of making (or at least adjusting) my own?
Clarinet
Am I completely fluent in the pinky-finger notes? Can I make good choices about which pinky fingerings to use, and make them automatically?
Do I know and use good resonance fingerings for the throat tones?
Have I thoroughly habituated good practices for crossing the break (efficient hand position and finger motion, putting the right hand fingers down early when ascending, keeping the airstream supported and constant…)?
Bassoon
Can I make or at least adjust my own reeds?
How is my tenor clef reading? Okay, now how about the low notes in the tenor clef?
Do I not only know alternate fingerings, but know their characteristics (pitch, tone, response, slurability…)?
Saxophone
Can I successfully and smoothly navigate passages using the left hand pinky? How about the palm keys?
Am I fluent in the altissimo register?
Do I have a good grasp of jazz and “legit” styles (tone, articulation, inflection, equipment choices…)? Can I improvise convincingly in various styles (Ben Webster? Charlie Parker? John Coltrane? David Sanborn? Michael Brecker?)?
Folk/ethnic/period instruments
If called upon to do so, am I prepared to play, for example, recorder? Pennywhistle? Bamboo flute? Native American flute? Do I have at least a nodding acquaintance with the styles and performance practices associated with those instruments?
I was pleased to receive recently some samples of D’Addario Woodwinds’s new “Venn” synthetic clarinet and saxophone reeds. In an upcoming post, I’ll share some thoughts about and demonstrations of the specific products. But here are a few thoughts to set the stage:
I’m thrilled to see a major cane reed manufacturer like D’Addario take on this challenge. My hunch is that other major reed makers are either close at their heels or betting on musicians’ provincial thinking about modern materials. Let’s hope it’s the former.
I am a strong believer that synthetic reeds are the future. Modern science has invented amazing materials for clothing and smartphone screens and space travel; we can invent something that works great for reeds. Natural cane isn’t sacred or magical—it’s a material with upsides and some very clear downsides.
It’s easy to fall into the trap of trying something like a synthetic reed and asking the question, “does this synthetic material sound as good as cane?” And, if the reed doesn’t play as well as one’s usual cane reeds, to answer the question with a no, and perhaps to further opine that nothing can ever sound as good as “real” cane. But that knee-jerk reaction fails to take into account all the other things we already know about reeds, such as that their geometry matters a great deal, and that their match to the mouthpiece is equally crucial. We’ve all found the reed-plus-mouthpiece combinations that work for us, and introducing any random new reed (cane or synthetic) isn’t especially likely to improve the situation. The better question to ask is, “Is this a viable reed?” In other words, does it function like a reed should, when paired with an appropriate mouthpiece: with appropriate response, stability, and characteristic tone, regardless of whether it is my new personal favorite?
Assuming there are viable synthetic reeds available, it may make sense to adopt them and claim all the potential benefits (consistency, longevity, resistance to warping, reduced waste, cost savings), and, if necessary, seek out new mouthpieces that are well suited to them. I have mouthpieces I like, but if I can replace them and never have to deal with the problems of cane again, that seems like an option well worth considering.
Zealous loyalty to “traditional” materials isn’t a virtue. (If you’re a woodwind player like me, there’s a good chance your equipment already includes materials that are “new” since the instrument’s invention anyway.) Keep an open mind!
If you’re a player or teacher of woodwinds, you need to be able to communicate clearly about woodwind playing. I’ve compiled a few of the most frequently-misspelled woodwind-related words from assignments and tests in my various classes. Check it out and see how you do:
There are few more coveted clarinet techniques than the smooth glissando, as heard in the famous opening to Rhapsody in Blue. But the technique isn’t intuitive, and lots of questions persist about how to do it.
(Incidentally: the Rhapsody in Blue score doesn’t call for a smooth portamento-type effect, but a scale with discrete notes. But the portamento became tradition early in the piece’s life and is now more or less required.)
How the clarinet glissando is done, technique-wise
One key thing to understand is that finger movement is the smallest part of the clarinet glissando. It’s not possible (or at least I’ve never seen it done) to achieve the full effect by simply uncovering toneholes gradually. The real work here is done with voicing.
Let’s break the technique down. We’ll use Rhapsody in Blue as an example, but the principles can be applied to other repertoire (or improvisations).
First, let’s look at what’s called for in the score:
Glissandos that cross register breaks are a particular challenge, so most clarinetists avoid that, opting to play a scale in the lower register, and beginning the glissando at the lower-clarion B or C.
High C is the destination note. Start by playing that note and using your voicing (think of blowing warmer air) to bend the pitch downward. Resist the urge to “lip” it down with your embouchure muscles or to let your breath support sag.
Bend it down absolutely as far as you can, until the note quits. It can take some practice to get a wide pitch bend range. Don’t strain; play around with it for a few minutes, then try again tomorrow.
Once you’re able to bend it fairly far, try kicking in some extra breath support. The air column is reluctant to vibrate when it’s bent too far (I’m fudging a little here on the acoustics). Use powerful air, even more powerful than usual, to make it keep vibrating, and see if you can bend even farther.
Now go to the lower part of the glissando, B or C in the staff. Try to bend it. You probably can’t bend this long-tube note, with lots of closed toneholes, nearly as much as you could bend the short-tube high C.
Now play the note, and gradually let your fingers lift, just a little bit, off the toneholes.
Notice that with the toneholes just slightly vented, the note becomes much less stable—or more bendable. Play around with the pitch to get the feel of it.
Now play the lowest note of the glissando (I’m using C here for simplicity). Move the fingers a little off their toneholes (all of them, except the left thumb, which stays in position for high C) while simultaneously bending the pitch down hard with voicing. (Remember to keep breath support strong.) While gradually moving the fingers farther off the toneholes, bend gradually upward with voicing. As the fingers finally completely clear the toneholes, the voicing arrives at its standard high position, and the pitch settles in on high C.
It takes practice to get the fingers and voicing coordinated, and to gain enough control to shape the bend just how you want it.
To execute the Rhapsody in Blue opening, play a scale in the lower register, then switch as seamlessly as possible to a glissando just above the register break. Some players play the scale portion as written, but some attempt to make it sound more glissando-like by turning it into a chromatic scale. Sometimes they also start the scale on chalumeau F-sharp rather than the written G.
How the clarinet glissando is done, taste-wise
Mastering the technique of the glissando, like mastering any technique, is only the first step. The next and perhaps more important step is to learn to do it with good musical taste.
When performing a glissando, carefully consider the shape of the pitch bend. How long is the bend overall? Should the pitch move in a straight line from one pitch to another? (Unlikely.) Should it have more of a curve, staying low at first and then rising at an increasing rate? Should there be a moment at the beginning or end at which the pitch remains stable, or is it constantly in motion?
These are fine distinctions, but important to the character of the glissando. Careful, detailed listening is crucial to the process—be sure to check out as many good recordings as you can, and note the differences in approach. If your intention is for the glissando to sound jazz-like, make sure you are listening to jazz players who use that effect, not just classical players who may or may not have done their homework.
Why it’s a clarinet-specific effect
The clarinet, unlike any of the other major modern wind instruments, uses a very high voicing for general playing. This leaves room to lower the voicing considerably for this special glissando effect. Flutes and double reeds (and brass instruments) use a very low voicing, which theoretically can be raised, but a raised voicing on a low-voicing instrument doesn’t cover as much territory pitch-wise; in other words, it’s harder to raise the pitch with voicing than it is to lower it. The saxophones, with an in-between voicing, have some flexibility here, but also have to contend with large keys on large toneholes, which are not as precise for hole-uncovering as fingertips on small clarinet toneholes. (The keys situation also explains why the larger clarinets aren’t nearly as agile with glissandos, even though those instruments are properly played with a high voicing.) In short, the technique lends itself particularly to the high clarinets, and may be much more difficult on other woodwinds.
I’ve posted a few times over the past year about making double reeds (cf. here, here, and here), and I maintain that this is the truest way to abiding oboe/bassoon satisfaction. If you consider those instruments to be serious parts of what you do as a musician, you need to learn to make—or at least skillfully adjust—reeds.
But, frankly, not everyone is up to the challenge.
The basic reedmaking process can be learned within a few lessons, but developing the skills well enough to make good reeds consistently can take years, and most reedmakers will continue to develop and modify their approach over a lifetime.
Reedmaking is expensive, too. A set of the most basic tools for making reeds from preprocessed (gouged, shaped, and, for bassoon, profiled) cane costs as much as several boxes of clarinet or saxophone reeds, and the cane doesn’t come cheap, either. If you want the control of doing your own gouging, shaping, and so forth, the additional equipment may cost you nearly as much as a pro-line clarinet.
And, of course, reedmaking takes time. I’ve heard the “rule of thumb” that an oboist, for example, should spend an hour making reeds for every hour he or she spends practicing. I don’t know that I agree entirely, but you get the idea of what kind of commitment is involved.
