Timpani: German set-up.

Today, I´ll write about the way German, Dutch, and centre-European timpanists in general set their instruments up.

Before I go on, I´d like to thank Nick Woud, timpanist for the Royal Concertgebouw Orchestra, who has helped me with his opinions and gave his permission for using some of his engravings.

The "normal" way timpani are set up is commencing with the low one on the left, ascending untill we reach the highest one on the right, imitating the disposition of a piano. That´s how it´s done in Spain, France, United Kingdom, Italy, United States...

© Pearl drums

The way our instruments are set up in Germany and Holland is the contrary, with the low one on the right side, and the high one to the left side.

© Pearl drums

The reason behind the first option is clear: imitating the way notes are set up in a piano. This option is more recent than its German counterpart.

There are various explanations regarding the low drum in the right side option:

1.- It is said timpani were played, sometimes, by double bass players. As we know, in this instrument, the low string is to the right side on the bridge, thus making for a double bassist playing timpani very natural to adopt the low to the right configuration.

I can´t find this theory convincing at all. We know timpanists and trumpeters were associated in very powerfull guilds, and all knowledge was transmited from master to apprentice in a very secretive way: only the iniciated could work as a timpanist, and strong punishments were reserved for those non-members trying to play our instruments.

This secrecy and oral tradition makes for us to know very little about the techniques used at that time, and very interesting traditions as the "Schlagmanieren" scape to our understanding.

For this, I cannot think of a double bassist trying to play timps without permission from the local guild, so this option is dismissed.

2.- Other reason to explain this set up is that, being right-handed the vast majority of the population, timpanists would like to play the the tonic with this hand (the strong one). This would be valid if drums were tuned to an interval of a 5th, as the tonic would be to the right side:

But drums were tuned to an interval of a 4th, not a 5th. For this, the tonic was on the high one, not being able to be hit with the right hand:

Again, this explanation is not valid.

3.- As you know, timpani, together with trumpets, were associated with cavalry (and from previous threads, you know fifes and drums were associated to infantry) and were mounted in pairs on horse back.

In order to mount, the rider always does it from the left side. Check these videos:

As you see, a horse is always mounted by its left side, and that´s due to the riders carrying swords or sabres hanging from their left side, so these weapons could be pulled out with the right hand. Mounting through the right side would have been impractical, as those hanging swords would have interfered with the process. If a timpanist has to mount with two drums on horse back, the easiest way is to place the smaller drum to the mounting side (left) to make this task easier, placing the large one to the right non-mounting side. All iconography shows timpany set up this way.

When timpani "dismounted" and took their place into the orchestra, this set up remained among timpanists, a tradition which still survives in Germany, Holland, Austria, Hungary, Switzerland...

This is the reason that better explains the low drum to the right side set up (some other instruments still adopt this configuration, such as bongos and tom-toms in a drum set).

The contrary is a newer one, and mimics a keyboard configuration.

As a curiosity, I found something that I thought invalidated my theory, and that´s an engraving property of Nick Woud:

Photo courtesy of Nick Woud

You can clearly see the low drum to the left side of the timpanist, but Mr. Woud told me it´s a mistake by the printer or an artistic license.

So, my bet for explaining the German configuration is the one associated with the cavalry.

…et in Arcadia ego.

© David Valdés

It happens sometimes...

Today, I´ll show you a video that proves timpanists are not free from unforeseen events (footage featuring the Finnish Radio Symphony Orchestra):

As a cautious musician, our timpanist has the lower right corner of the sheet folded, ready for the page turn, but... The stick gets in the way, and happens what Murphy´s Law prophesses... Total chaos! He tries to recover the score, but it is now an impposible task, and the only thing he can do is an as convincing as possible poker face. We have to say he did very well...

I have experienced something quite similar... It was many years ago, playing Grieg´s Piano Concerto with the Gijón Conservatory Orchestra. As you know, it starts with a timpani solo (a crescendo roll on A). As soon as I started playing, all my music fall down on the head (again, following Murphy, all papers fall on the "active" timpano instead of choosing the mute one...), making a funny noise, something like "gfrxxgrxgrfrfxgrfgfxxxxxxsssssscxscxscxs". Stopping was unviable, as it is a solo, so I had to pretend everything was ok, show my best "nothing-happens-face", and go on.

You see, accidents happen, so we better take them with our best sense of humor.

…et in Arcadia ego.

© David Valdés

Snare drum grip.

Many of you know how much I admire Leigh Howard Stevens, his personality, his music, and his fantastic "Method of Movement for Marimba".

I always liked his book because of its attention to detail, its clear explanations, the application of scientific methods, its fight against some "percusive myths" and his sense of humor.

I´ve never found a snare drum book equivalent to "MOM", which explained with detail all aspects concerning the grip, how to properly strike, and which developed technical questions in a scientific way. I have read many great books (those by Queen, Moeller, Stone, Morello, Chapin..., come to mind), but none of them is as meticulous as the one Stevens wrote for marimba. If such a book as "Method of Movement for Snare Drum" exists, no doubt it´d be my favorite.

My snare drum technique comes from the observation of many percussionists, picking up those things I´ve found best suited my musical ideas, and discarding those I thought were not useful.

Observing myself, I got to describe and explain what I do and (most important) WHY. In the same way I think we have to know what to do with every single note we play (and we always must have a good reason for doing so), I also think that´s of application in the technical aspect: we must know what we are doing with our technique, why this finger is here and not there, why our hand moves this way and not the other, etc, etc...

Taking into account that what I´m about to explain is what works for me, and that it doesn´t have to necessarily work for you, this is how (trying to be as meticulous as Stevens) I undestand the grip:

Due to the 15 minutes limitation by YouTube, I had no time to explain all things I wanted to. They will come up in future updates.

Remember technique is not a goal but a mean, a mean to take you to the real aim: Music.

Having said that, do not look down on technique. If Michael Schumacher was driving a Ford Fiesta, he wouldn´t have been seven times F1 World Champion. Your technique has to run parallel to your musical talent, or you won´t be able to express anything.

The false dichotomy "technique versus musicality" many musicians believe in is quite funny, but we´ll write about it in futures updates. 

I hope you enjoy the video.

…et in Arcadia ego.

© David Valdés

Snare drum solo.

Friday afternoon, due to the proximity of the weekend, is prone to make yourself relax... That´s exactly what I did yesterday, so I recorded a little caprice for snare drum.

Some of you already know that I´m messing around a lot with the snare drum, investigating, trying and discovering "new" things about the instrument and its technique. Everything that improves my control and technique, even with no obvious musical application, will be more than welcome.

Altough some techniques, "stick tricks", attitudes or movements could seem circus moves instead of musical ones, I don´t  reject them for their value as a way to improve technique. For this reason, I´ve found myself trying certain things that, despite I will never use them in an orchestral situation, they´ve helped me to develop my technique to a state I have never known before.

YouTube is an invaluable source for information, where people with extraordinary talent upload their habilities. That´s what I´m doing now: surfing those videos, devouring information, assimilating it and learning as much as possible.

As a game, an inspired by the videos posted by Bill Marschall, this is what I came up with:

Take this as a divertimento, something not too important, a mere technique exercise...

If you are interested, this is the transcription:

© David Valdés

You see... This is what a Friday afternoon can do for your technique.

…et in Arcadia ego.

© David Valdés

St. Cecilia Day.

Today, November 22nd, is St. Cecilia Day, patron saint of musicians.

As a homage to the Patron and all musicians in the world, I´d like to suggest you a work by Henry Purcell "Heil, Bright Cecilia!", also know as "Ode to St. Cecilia" (z. 328, composed in 1692).

I´d like to specially recommend number 11 from the 13 numbers it contains. As you already know my "warrior" ardor, my passion for timpani, and my interest in military music, it is not a coincidence that I´m posting a fragment entitled "The Fife and all the Harmony of War".

The Gabrielli Consort and Players, conducted by Paul McCreesh (please pay attention to the wonderful inflection to minor few bars before the end, and the return to major at the last bar):

The text goes:

"The Fife and all the Harmony of War,

in vain attempt the Passions to alarm,

Which thy commanding Sounds compose and charm".

Happy St. Cecilia Day to all.

…et in Arcadia ego.

© David Valdés

Ringo Starr and timpani.

We all know Ringo Starr as the drummer for the most influencial pop band ever existed. We also know he isn´t the best drummer in the world, but we know he was what The Beatles needed at that time: nothing less and nothing more.

Apart from the drums (his kits is something I´ll write about in the future), Ringo also recorded tambourines, congas, bongos... But, for a classical percussionist, the really surprising thing is that he also recorded timpani.

This photo was taken at Abbey Road, studio #2, on September 30th, 1964, during the session for "Every Little Thig". Nine takes were recorded (the chosen one was #8), and then some overdubs were tracked: Ringo on timps, which is also doubled on piano by Paul McCartney.

With regard to the piano part, there was a story about George Martin playing it, but this photo proves it was McCartney:

You can hear the song here:

These timpani were probably part of the existing backline at Abbey Road (they are marked "1" and "2").

We can see Ringo´s peculiar technique: french grip in his right hand, and german one in his left hand. We can also see the rings that originated his nickname.

For those of you who are meticulous (some of you already know about my passion on recording techniques), the mic in the pictures is a Neumann U47 (or maybe an U48: they are exactly the same except for their polar pattern, which I cannot see, so it´s impossible to know whether it´s a U47 or  U48).

I think this is the only time Ringo played timpani, and these photos are an exceptional graphic document that allow us to see the most famous drummer in history playing on instruments we normally see in an orchestral context.

…et in Arcadia ego.

© David Valdés

Music and the sea.

Last Saturday I went sailing. It was blowing an 11 knots NorthWest wind, which backed to West and became calmed as the evening progressed. Luckily, it didn´t rain, as the forecast predicted.

Hugging to Candás, the mainsail tighten on the centerline, the Genoa jib at a fist distance from the spreader. All sails flat, perfectly trimmed, the boat heeled to leeward, and all the crew to the windward side... We got a speed of six knots, but three meters high waves slowed us down.

On the way back, when we left the green light to starboard, night fell. A little bit later, we left the nine white flashes of the Amosucas West cardinal signal to portside.  At sea, it´s a pitch-black night, but Gijón shines some miles to the south...

What does this have to do with music? Who knows, maybe it depends on how you look at it... The thing is that, this sailing day, has made me remember a fantastic piece of music: "Four Sea Interludes", from the opera "Peter Grimes", by Benjamin Britten.

This composer wrote magnificent percussion parts for his works with the guide and advice given by James Blades. I didn´t get to know Mr. Blades (despite his long life), but I was fortunate enough to be taught by one of his students: Nick Cole. Also, the influence of Blades at the Royal Academy of Music (where I studied) is very significant (the room in the basement is named "James Blades Percussion Studio"). For all these reasons, the percussion parts by Britten are quite familiar to me.

"Dawn", the first of the interludes, is beautiful, and I can almost feel the cold of a clear morning by the sea. The second one, "Sunday morning", is fresh, clean, clear... "Moonlight" is fantastic, which makes me think of a summer night, a warm breeze blowing, the moon lighting a white thread on the calmed sea... Flute and xylophone are, in my imagination, shooting stars which brighten up a clear sky full of still stars. Here goes this fantastic piece of music in a version by the Boston Symphony:

As percussionists, I´m quite sure is the fourth interlude ("Storm") the one we know better.

The timpani part is crucial for the mood of this interlude (I´ve played it some years ago at the Academy), but the most famous one is the tambourine part.

When I played that part (sorry, I have no recording of it), I used a small instrument (8 inches) so as to help me with the dynamics, with tinplate jingles to get a higher timbre than that produced by berillium/copper ones, so I can blend better with the flutes (the instruments I´m doubling). I also want to make contrast with the somber character of the beggining (the last part seems to recreate sun beams trying to get across the clouds, the storm about to finish).

To make the roll easier (which I play with my middle finger), I glued some sandpaper (thinest one) on the tambourine. This way, I always get friction, so I always get a roll, not needing to wet the finger or things like that.

© David Valdés

© David Valdés

The tambourine part is as follows:

And this is my interpretation:

See that I play softer those notes after the rolls so as to phrase like the flutes. Crescendi and diminuendi are difficult, so you better practise them... The good thing is that rolls start with an accent, making them easier to play (the beggining is more secure with the accent). To facilitate the last roll, I situate the tambourine in a vertical position, so the jingles are not stuck on top of each other, they are free to ring, and react better to my finger.

So... A sailing day inspired me to write about an important excerpt of the tambourine repertoire. Weird? Maybe...

…et in Arcadia ego.

© David Valdés

Radio memories.

Believe or not, there was no TV at home when I was a child (late 70´s). We still had to wait sometime before an old tubes television took possession of our living room (turning it on was a tedious task, as tubes took quite a long time to heat, and switching it off produced a charasteristic fade to black, with a funny "phiuuuuuuuuuuuu" noise). It was B/W (a colour TV was an oriental luxury), and it had no remote control (at that time, in Spain, we had only two channels -UHF and VHF-, so even having it, wouldn´t have been of much use). When "technical problems" arrised, an attentive fist, well closed, would gracefully hit its top, converting a blurred image into your favorite program.

But I´m digressing... At that time, we had no "goggle box".

During luch time, my father used to put a small radio receptor on the table, which he used to listen to the news. As a jingle for RNE (Spanish National Radio), there was a tune that got stack into my memory, a melody that always seemed very sad to me, and made me imagine the tree-lined walk at Isabel la Catolica Park in Gijón in autumn, the ground full of brown leaves... Even for me, a child five or six years old, that music was sad.

The thing is I´ll never forget that jingle... There are certain things that, during your chilhood, get into your head and, no matter how much time passes by, we never forget them. Many times, they are there, in a latent state, we not realizing their presence and, suddenly, a spark brings back those memories, making us to live past times again...

I still whistle that tune note for note, and associate it to an image in which my father is sitting at lunch time listening to the news on his small radio (a receiver I don´t know where it is -maybe lost many years ago-, but I still clearly remember).

Because of the almost infinite possibilities of the internet, I searched for that tune, but could never find it.

Untill few days ago, I had to use my "hard drive" and just remeber it but, at last, I could find it (I´ll tell you how, because that´s the interesting point of it).

You can hear the tune I´m refering to from 0:50 on (the one orchestrated for strings and harpsichord):

If you have read my post "Spanish military drums", and have realized the martial character of the first melody, I´m sure you already know what the explanation for this tune is...

Yes! It´s a fifes and drum tune we can find in the 1761 manuscript by Manuel Espinosa that can be found at the Spanish National Library and I talked about in my post "Spanish military drums".

Just imagine my surprise when, whisteling the various tunes the booklet contains, I found "La Generala" is the tune used by RNE for the jingle which brings so much memories back to me. With that information, finding an audio archive was a piece of cake.

You may have noticed that the orchestrations by RNE are adding a bar at the end in order to get perfect 8 bars phrases, instead of the double seven bars phrases in the original.

According to the Royal Orders by HRH Carlos III, "When all the infantry serving in the same place, whether it be a garrison, barracks or field, had to take arms for marching, review, exercise or whatever other function, as a prevention, La Generala has to be played".

You can hear the fifes and drum version HERE (column on the right, second from the top). Again, the discrepancies you can hear between music and score is due to the 1769 version being played, instead of the 1761 one.

For the second time, looking for information on the Spanish military drum tradition, a very familiar tune came accross. This one is intimately tied to wonderful and unforgettable memories from my childhood.

In memoriam Secundino Fernández Vigil.

…et in Arcadia ego.

© David Valdés

Spanish military drums.

It´s a concidence, but today, Day of the Spanish Armed Forces, my post is about military music and drums.

As a percussionist, I have studied Swiss (Bassler Trommel), French (Batard, Coup de Charge, Coup Anglais, Moulin, Coup du Rigodon...), German (Druck Ruf,  Schleifschlag, Französischer Ruf...), Dutch (Lange Voorslag, Dubbele Slagen, Verwisselslagen...), Scottish and American drum rudiments. I know the 40 PAS rudiments, and the endless possibilities the Hybrid Rudiments have to offer... Sadly, and despite it been a contradiction, I know nothing about the Spanish drumming tradition.

As we know, the origin of the drum is, no doubt, military, and because of the Moor Invasion during the early Middle Ages, Spain was the fist European country to get to know the instrument. The  tabor (atambor, atabal) soon found its place in the military world and, if we have into account that Spain ruled the world during some centuries, we have to assume the drum took a very important role in the most powerful military force at that time (also, Spanish kings paid Walonian and Swiss mercenary forces, being the latter those who iniciated the rudimental tradition).

For all these reasons, we can conclude that, despite being quite unknown nowadays, Spain must have had an important military drumming tradition.

This is what I´ve doing lately: investigating and studying everything related with our national tradition, and future posts will be dedicated to this issue.

In the meantime, I´d like to share with you some of my "little discoveries", which show me that we have military music more assumed that we think.

Thanks to the Spanish National Library, I got a facsimile (there´s just one copy left) of the following "Libro de la Ordenanza Delos Toques de Pifanos y Tambores Que se tocan Nuevamente en la Infanteria Española Compuestos por Dn Manuel Espinosa 1761". Translated, would be something as "Orderly book containing the beats newly played by the fifes and drums in the Spanish infantry composed by Mr. Manuel Espinosa 1761".

We can corroborate the close connection between fifes and drums in the infantry, as opposite to the connection between trumpets and timpani associated with the cavalry (the trumpets/timpani association remained once these instruments got into the orchestra).

In this booklet we can find a Retreta (retreat). In the 1769 Royal Orderly Book by HRH Carlos III (which was revoked as late as 1978!), it is stated that the Retreta is to be played "when the General in charge decides that it´s time for the troops to retire to their tents or barracks at the sunset. In march, it indicates when the column has to turn left". I´m sure it sounds quite familiar to you:

You can hear it, played by a "banda de guerra" (war band):

The little discrepancies you can hear between the interpretation and the score is because they are using a later version (1769). This eight years younger edition is kept at the Spanish Royal Library.

Luigi Boccherini, who lived and died in Spain, obviously heard this retreta, and literally quoted it in his famous work (performed by the Boccherini Ensemble):

In the twentieth century, Luciano Berio wrote his own version:

Berio orchestrated his work in a very intelligent way, as he uses snare drum ostinatos, and the first instruments to play the theme are the flutes, which takes us back to the origin: fifes and drums.

A more recent version is the one by David del Puerto. You can hear the Gijón Symphony Orchestra live on February 7th, 2009 at Teatro Jovellanos in Gijón under the baton of Óliver Díaz, with Rafael Casanova on baroque timps (the same instruments I mentioned on the article "Baroque timpani restoration"): 

This version, which uses timpani instead of snare drum, doesn´t convince me from a historic point of view.

It´s funny to see that a theme we normally associate with Boccherini is, in fact, from Manuel Espinosa... It may even not be from Espinosa himself, being he a mere compilator of an already existing military tune.

The Spanish military music catalog is full of fantastic surprises... Gradually, I´ll tell you about them.

(I´d like to thank Manuel Mefre González for his invaluable help and guidance).

…et in Arcadia ego.

© David Valdés

A book.

Today, I´d like to recommend you a very interesting book.

It is "Timpani and Percussion in the Works of Giuseppe Verdi" (Horst Huber).

In it, the author writes about the Timpani/Percussion parts writen by the genius from La Roncole, and explains the wrong notes in the timpani parts, when to play cymbals and when not to, the different ways he names the instruments (and what it implies), when to play rolls, the problem of the off-stage bands...

A very ambicious book, which will be of great help not only for percussionists, but for conductors concerned about their section, Opera houses, teachers...

You can buy it on Amazon.

If you want to legally have a look at it before buying it, you can do it on Google Books.

I already have it... Will you play a work by Verdi without reading this fantastic book?  

…et in Arcadia ego.

© David Valdés

Baroque timpani restoration.

Despite some of you already know my timps and the restoration process they undertook, I have been asked several times how I did it, so I´ll write about it in this post.

This is the original state in which these instruments were before the restauration process:

As you can see, kettles were dented and almost black because of the dirt, heads had holes, metallic parts were matt, paint was scraped... It was more than a cosmetic issue: these timpani were in serious need of a restauration.

First thing we did was repairing the kettles. For this, heads, rims and hardware were taken off, leaving the kettles "naked" (observe the difference between covered parts and those exposed to the elements):

© David Valdés

© David Valdés

All dents and imperfections were hammered out with a rubber hammer and, once they were completely even, the cleaning process begun. For this, we used a de-rusting product applied with a very thin metal wool. Next photo shows one of the kettles half-way the process:

© David Valdés

Once they were clean, a polishing product was applied with the help of a cotton wool attached to a drill. When finished, all traces of remaining cleaning products were taken off with water and soap. After this, a spray protecting lacquer was applied to enhance their shine and to protect them from scratches. Next photo shows a finished kettle and a still to clean one:

© David Valdés

Next thing to be repaired were tunning keys and all golden hardware (we knew they were golden once they were clean!):

© David Valdés

© David Valdés

They were inmersed into a de-rusting solution for a whole day and then were polished. There was no need to replate them, as they are made of brass, which has a natural beautiful golden colour which was brought to life again with a meticulous polishing process:

© David Valdés

Counterhoops were in the condition you can see below:

© David Valdés

All paint remains were taken off with the help of a wire brush attached to a drill. We can see the result in the next photo:

© David Valdés

Clean again, they were spray-painted in black, leaving a very nice smooth and glossy finish. Next photos show the final result:

© David Valdés

© David Valdés

Once all pieces were repaired, drums were re-assembled:

© David Valdés

Original wooden hoops were in  very bad condition (bended and even cracked), so a local blacksmith made an exact copy of the original ones, resulting in a pair of sturdy and durable hoops. On these hoops, a pair of  "SuperKalfo" heads were tucked:

© David Valdés

As a final touch, leather rings were added between the counterhoops and the tunning keys (red arrow in the lower photo). This avoids any metal-to-metal contact, resulting in a noise-free mechanism. It also facilitates turning the keys:

© David Valdés

Before being repaired, these drums had retractable legs (very similar to those in violoncelli). This was not practical at all because was noisy and, secondary, was not beautiful. To correct this, a pair of "quadpod" stands were built, allowing the drums to freely resonate. For this, a small metal cilinder was drilled every 90º. In each of these holes, a segment of threaded rod was introduced and then welded in order to form a cross which could be the base for our "quadpods":

© David Valdés

Two curtain poles measuring 2,5 metres were cut into eight parts, each of these parts being drilled in its centre. These rods were then mounted on each arm of the crosses. In order to avoid any extrange noise, piano felt was used to pad both sides of the rods. We also used adhesive felt to cover the part that was intended to stay in contact with the instrument:

© David Valdés

These stands stay in position and fold thanks to their wing nut system:

© David Valdés

Once the restoration process finished,this is the final result:

© David Valdés

Apart from being a very beautiful pair of instruments, they sound very well.

In this audio archive, recorded live on March 23rd, 2007 at Teatro Jovellanos in Gijón, you can hear me playing these timps with the Gijón Symphony Orchestra conducted by Óliver Díaz. The work is Mozart´s "Requiem" ("Dies Irae"):

 

In this other archive, recorded at the Toledo Cathedral in May 2008 (and part of the CD "Corpus Christi en Toledo"), you can hear me playing these instruments with "Sphera Antiqva" and "Memoria de los Sentidos". The work is "¡Alarma, alarma, sentidos!", by Jaume Casellas (the timpani part was edited by me, as there´s no timpani in the original):

As a final detail, these timpani have a pair of custom made softbags, as well as a pair of flight cases: 

© David Valdés

© David Valdés

…et in Arcadia ego.

© David Valdés

West Side Story - Vibraphone.

Today, I´ll speak about the vibraphone part for West Side Story.

As percussionists, we all have faced this hard nut to crack at some point, as this fugue (“Cool”) is asked very often in auditions. Luckily enough, I have played this work several times, with different orchestras and different parts (sometimes xylo, sometimes vibes), and it´s always a pleasure to play what, in my modest opinion, is a master class in orchestration (apart from a fantastic piece of music).

It maybe is the most famous excerpt for vibraphone and, even that, it´s very often played with a wrong note, a note which has taken deep roots in our “percusive memory”... I´m talking about the G flat circled in red we can find in the original “particella”:

Because that´s the way it´s writen in the original part, the Orchester Probespiel book (the only one I know containing this excerpt) literally copies it, giving one more step ahead to perpetuate the mistake:

As we already know, the vibraphone part doubles the flute and, if we have a look at the score, this issue has an easy solution (see the coincident notes circled in red). Have a look also at the phenomenal orchestration, dividing the flute line between first and second players:

We can see both flute and vibraphone play A flat, clarifying which note vibes should play. The copyist commited “lapsus calami”, and his G flat (instead of the correct A flat) stayed among us.

Having a look a little bit ahead (bar 697), we find another proof of A flat being the correct note, as we can find the same motive (transposed):

We can clearly see the interval between the 4^th and 5^th note (marked in red) is a perfect 5^th and not a perfect 4^th (as it was in the first picture). Apart from that, all instruments playing that same motive in the fugue play that perfect 5^th interval, proving the G flat is a wrong note.

The following audio archive is by the Gijón Symphony Orchestra, and it was recorded live on December 10th, 2006 at Teatro Jovellanos in Gijón (myself on vibes, playing A flat instead of G flat):

I would also like to show you that fragment in the original movie:

As a matter of interest, Bernstein himself conducting this work (including the fragment we are talking about). You´ll have to see it on YouTube, as embedding is disabled for this video:

West Side Story recording sessions

If you are curious, you can see all videos of this recording, where you can find Bernstein complaining on Carreras (legendary), how Carreras swears, arguments with the clarinet player, Bernstein telling the producer to shut up... Best videos out there ever!

…et in Arcadia ego.

© David Valdés