Do-It-Yourself "baguettes d´éponge".

Berlioz was a composer who showed a great interest in percussion, and his contributions were crucial for the development of this instrumental family. Always trying to improve the sound timpanists could get from their drums, one of his indications was "baguettes d´éponge" ("sponge sticks"). When I had to play his "Symphonie Fantastique", I thought it was the perfect time for me to make a pair of them. 

It seems like historical sponge sticks were made with a variety named "elephant ear", very abundant in the Mediterranean Sea at that time, but because I needed them quite urgently, I wasn´t very worried about being very HIP. So, a normal sponge would do... I sliced it into two sheets and cut two circles to cover the heads.

© David Valdés

As always, I made two tonkin sticks:

© David Valdés

I stuffed and rounded the ends to make them nice in the hands:

© David Valdés

Added two wooden ball heads.

© David Valdés

I sewn the two sponge discs.

© David Valdés

Added some red thread as a cosmetic thing:

© David Valdés

Voilà! I now have a pair of "baguettes d´éponge" so I can play the romantic repertoire:

© David Valdés

What kind of sticks have you used when confronted with this indication by berlioz? Would you like trying some real sponge headed sticks?

…et in Arcadia ego.

© David Valdés

"The timpani and percussion instruments in 19th-century Italy".

Because I´ve been a very good boy during this last year, the Three Wise Men brought me as a present the book "The timpani and percussion instruments in 19th-century Italy", written by Renato Meucci, translated into English by Michael Quinn and edited by Banda Turca.

© Banda Turca

As you already know, I have a sincere interest in timpani parts containing "errors". I have also explained how I deal with them and my interest in historical instruments and historically informed performance. Because of it, reading this book has been a real treat.

This is a 92 pages delicacy which you will devour in no time... Its size is very handy (so you can carry it on your stick bag for reference), paperbacked, printed on quality paper and uses a very appealing type, making for a very nice reading.

Already on the preface, the author gives us some tasty pills (the italian orchestra and its components as "singers" who play their instruments the same way as a singer would use his/her voice -thus the endurance of three stringed basses, concertmasters conducting from their desk, "peculiar" flutes and clarinets, performance practices in the percussion section already obsolete north of the Alps...-), and what follows is a vast amount of very detailed information, documented with many footnotes

So, there´s a chapter dedicated to timpani, the different models built at that time (I already mentioned some of them and also cited Antonio Boracchi on "Editing timpani parts" I, II and III ), performance practices, notation (which also entails technique, with things like striking one drum with both hands simultaneously or press rolls) and "wrong notes".

Another chapter deals with the Banda Turca, and reveals many interesting issues, like the very improvisatory and open character of the parts, the "ad líbitum" orchestration of the section, the concept behind sistri (which makes me suspect some editions requesting "sistro" may well be wrong) and the inherent flexibility of the percussion forces when it comes to augment or diminish them depending on the available musicians at the theatre playing those works.

The author then explains single instruments in detail: the snare drum, the tenor drum (which, even then, was regularly mistaken and, like I explained on "The tenor drum: the great unknown", it is still the case nowadays), the bass drum, cymbals (making clear that what we now think was the norm -playing "alla turca"- was not regular practice nor an accepted one by composers/conductors), the triangle, the bell lyra, the jingle Johnny, the tam-tam and the glass harmonica (who can now convince flautists that their big solo in the mad scene in "Lucia the Lammermoor"  was not written for them, but originally intended for this exotic instrument!).

The book is completed with an appendix, a vast and very detailed bibiliography and very interesting illustrations.

The only objection I find in this book is that it doesn´t clarify something I´m really interested in: how Italian timpanists dealt with "wrong notes"... Other authors like Blades ("Percussion instruments and their history") and Pfundt ("Die Pauken") make clear that it was common practice to change them. Notes were amended in the United Kingdom and Germany, and I´m conviced Italy was not an exception (I was lucky to have lessons with David Searcy -La Scala- and have talked with Riccardo Muti about this issue, and both confirm it was common practice). I´m convinced Italian timpanists changed "wrong notes" (they had the knowledge and the instruments), but the author doesn´t dig deep and leaves me with the feeling of wanting to know more. 

I´m also not convinced about the chapter on the tam-tam, which is very short and doesn´t clarify much (specially with regard to the measurements of the instruments of that period).

Despite these two tiny spots, the book is magnificent, and I strongly recommend it to anyone interested in enriching his/her percusive vocabulary, whether he/she is going to apply these ideas to his/her day to day orchestral work or not. Definitely, this book will be a great influence on my future musical decisions when it comes to playing Italian repertory form the 19th century.

You can buy it online on www.bandaturca.com at the equivalent of 26 Swiss Francs. If I were you, I would buy it now.

…et in Arcadia ego.

© David Valdés

Prokofiev´s Classical Symphony.

Last October 22nd, the Gijón Symphony Orchestra played, among other works, Prokofiev´s Symphony #1 ("Classical"). As always, playing works by this composer is a real pleasure, and this article will deal with a fragment of its "Allegro con brio".

Before going on, here´s the score for that fragment (you can click on it to see it bigger):

This is the timpani part:

Estudying the score, we can see that, four bars before M (four before 20 in the score or, simply, 19 -sorry about the different editions) celli and basses play 8th notes (C-E-G-E, C-E-G-E...). The rest of the orchestra is playing either two quarter notes a bar, or a sustained note. The timpani are in no man´s land, as they sustain a long note while articulating 16th´s (no other instruments play this figure). Also, instruments playing long notes are clarinets, oboes and flutes which, in principle, are not related to timpani.

For all these reasons, my decision was to play the same thing as celli and basses do, ending my interpretation being this:

    

This is the final result (audio starts right on L), recorded live at Teatro Jovellanos in Gijón under Óliver Díaz (I´m sorry I cannot offer you a video like in previous occasions... Just audio this time):

As you already know, I´m in favor (always with a deep knowledge and the utmost respect for Music) of modifying the parts.

What do you think about this edition?

…et in Arcadia ego.

© David Valdés

In memoriam David Searcy.

Sadly, I´m writing again mourning a loss. David Searcy has passed away on August, 2nd.

David was timpanist for the orchestra of Teatro alla Scala in Milan (before that, he played for the Bergen Philharmonic), a magnificent musician, and an excellent person. He was also a faculty member at the Royal Academy of Music in London, where I got master classes from him.

His knowledge of the operatic repertoire was enormous, and his ideas on editing notes were a major influence on me.

Rest in peace.

…et in Arcadia ego.

© David Valdés

New things coming from old ones.

There´s nothing new under the sun and, whatever we think is something new, chances it has been invented and developed by someone else before we did are very possible. Today, I´d like to write about a percusive gadget that has deep roots into the past.

First is first, so let me introduce you the original concept:

Photo courtesy of Maciej Kazinsky

Have a look at the bottom of the bowl of this pair of baroque timpani.You can see a device shaped like a trumpet bell: it´s a "Schalltrichter" ("schall" means sound, and "trichter" means funnel).

This device was common in German timpani for a long period (between 1600 and 1800). Drums with this piece are very rare outside Germany, so we can think this constructive element is very characteristic from this country.

It was mentioned in old treatises: "Musicus autodidactos" (J.P. Eisel - 1738), "Die Pauken und Trommeln" (G. Fechner - 1862), and the older ones can be found in a pair of timpani kept at the Bayerische Nationalmuseum, dated in 1620. 

Its function was to create a saussenden Nachklang (resonant reverberance ) by means of the funnel moving back and forth, enriching a sound that, otherwise, would be quite anodyne (Fechner dixit)*.

As time passed, the "Schalltrichter" fell in disuse.

You can see more photos and read a very interesting article in The Well-Tempered Timpani.

Don´t you thik its desing is very similar to those found on subwoofers and loud speakers?

Three years ago (I don´t know if they even know what a "Schalltrichter" is), a company started selling a gadget coming form that organologic tradition, a device which gives rise to many opinions among drummers: the "Kickport".

© Kickport

As you can see, it´s kind of a funnel which goes on the resonant head of the bass drum:

© Kickport

Acording to the manufacturer, it gives "more lows, more tone, better definition and more punch", apart from slightly dampening the resonant head. Does it work? Opinions vary: there´s people that, after trying it, they hear a huge improvement, and there´s people who hears nothing at all. As always, we can find confronted opinions: some think it´s very useful and its creators have hit the jackpot, while others think it´s a bluff coming from someone with a very cunning commercial vision.

The thing is that it seems to have had some sucess, and their creators have milked the idea: Why just the bass drum when the set includes more drums? As bold as brass, they extended the concept to toms and snare drum:

© Kickport

I haven´t tried it, so I cannot give my opinion. If I ever have the chance to try it, I´ll write about it trying to explain my thoughts on it.

The very interesting thing, and what made me write about this new toy, is the similarity I´ve found between the "Kickport" and "Schalltrichter" present in German timpani. We tend to think we are very modern and cool, but this idea has been working since 1600.

As I said at the beginning, there´s nothing new under the sun... Very new looking ideas are 400 years old. The eternal return hits again, and the "Schallrichter" gets reincarnated in the "Kickport".  

* The information on the two paragraphs before the asterisk comes from an article by Ben Harms titled "The world of historical timpani", written for "Early Music America" for its summer 2008 edition.

…et in Arcadia ego.

© David Valdés

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

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

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