Reading a New Piece

Where to start when taking a look at a piece for the first time? Obviously there are as many approaches as there are musicians, and different pieces call for different attention. For an example, let’s take a look at the Duos for Flute and Clarinet by Robert Muczynski. (I’ll be performing this with my clarinetist colleague in October.)

First, I do a quick flip through the score. I look for really big picture things like how many movements it has, the general tempo markings, whether each movement tends to look more lyrical or more technical, and so forth. This gives me an idea of the overall road map and usually alerts me to sections that will require more work than others. (Sometimes I’m wrong but I have to start somewhere.)

I focus on rhythm first. In my mind, I have a much stronger grasp on the piece if I have the rhythm scaffolding established, and then I can go back and fill in pitches. If I focus on pitches instead, it takes me much longer to get a piece worked up. It is true that I can’t always separate the pitches out but my main focus is the rhythm. To learn the rhythm, I count, tap it out, sing a syllable, conduct while counting or singing, or a combination of these. I usually am not playing my flute at this point. I go ahead and mark the spots where I am not able to immediately count it accurately. (If there’s one thing I’ve learned, it’s to avoid practicing mistakes.) I’ll focus in on those spots, incorporate them back into the larger context, and continue my rhythm work. I look for the patterns, which saves a lot of mental energy; I can just apply those already-learned rhythms when they reappear. I continue this analysis until I feel like the scaffolding of the piece is there.

Then, while still not playing flute, I take a look at the dynamic shaping, the phrases, the range, and whether those things coordinate or work against each other in some way. Often, when I’m a little further in the learning process, I will create a dynamic chart, where I map out the dynamics alone to see the big picture. This is especially helpful when working on the pacing of a piece.

After all of that is done, I pick up a flute and start playing pitches. I was never strong in ear training class, so I can’t always hear pitches in my head with complete accuracy; doing so isn’t efficient for me, so I use the flute to create those pitches. If I’ve gotten the rhythm relatively stable, the only things that might trip me up as I play through are awkward fingerings. If that’s the case, I work on those in tiny groupings until the unevenness is worked out. (I’m sure I have a blog post about that somewhere...) However, I am generally free to work on just pitches because I’ve established the rhythm already.

If I tried to work on everything all at once andĀ move measure by measure, I would make very little progress. For me, dividing out the musical elements allows me to work efficiently and learn more music in less time.

 

Rhythmic Studies

As an undergrad, we usedĀ Rhythmic Training by Robert Starer in our theory classes. Honestly, I’m a little fuzzy on which theory classes used it (edited to add: after consulting the label on the back of my book, it was used in MUSI 1111, which corresponds to Aural Skills I at Kennesaw State University). I kept almost all my textbooks (with the exception of my least-favorite sight singing book!), and as I moved further along in my applied teaching, reached for this one when I had students who could benefit from some isolated rhythm practice.

The book begins with what students frequently think are insultingly-easy exercises: counting quarter, half, dotted-half, and whole notes. The layout is such that the steady pulse is printed at the bottom of the staff, and the rhythm under consideration is printed at the top of the staff. There are a few pages of “Preliminary Exercises” (the “easy” ones), and then it moves into twelve chapters. I caution students about taking these exercises for granted based on the beginning material because they increase in difficulty at a swift pace. After treating both common and lesser-seen time signatures, there is a section in Chapter 1 on changing meters. Chapter 2 introduces subdivision in a variety of time signatures. Chapters 3 and 4 introduce more complex subdivisions. By the time we reach Chapter 5, the exercises mix the types of subdivisions (eighth notes, triplets, sixteenths, etc.). Increasingly small subdivisions is the subject through Chapter 9. Chapter 10 changes the rate of pulse; Chapter 11 is a review, and Chapter 12 pits two rhythms against each other.

Often I will use this book with students with limited experience with applied lessons. Sometimes students are very comfortable playing in a large ensemble where there is a conductor and relatively steady pace. When this pulse has to come from the student himself, problems can present themselves.

Practically, I will usually include one or two pages per week. The student is free to work through these however he or she would like, but we always “perform” them the same way in lessons. If they feel comfortable with the material, I turn on a metronome click and off they go, playing the rhythm printed at the top of the staff. If they aren’t comfortable with the material, I have them talk through, analyze, and clap the rhythm in question. We continue to work on smaller and smaller sections to zoom in on the trouble spots. Once we practice it (much in the same way we would practice an excerpt from their etudes or repertoire), they play through it on the flute.

In my experience, working through these exercises results in significant improvement. Even working through approximately half of the book sets student flutists up for success in most rhythms they will encounter in the standard repertoire. Lesson time is at a premium (especially when underclassmen have a 30-minute lesson each week) but this book is worth fitting in. The fundamental skills gleaned from it pay off dividends when learning the vast majority of our repertoire.

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