Oboes and Oboists

A beautifully made musical instrument can give you the magical feeling that it is playing itself. On the contrary, my first oboe, loaned by my high school, was plastic and absolutely worthless. Although I was privileged to take lessons from Harvey McGuire, longtime English horn player in the Cleveland Orchestra, I was not happy with my progress. 

At college, after a couple of stints with a reproduction Baroque oboe and later an unusual oboe d’amore, an alto oboe pitched in A, they finally located a regular oboe for me to play.

A serious player might have been dismayed. An obsolete ring system oboe, it was full of cracks and did not have all the modern keys. But it was an early Lorée, a standard of quality among oboes, and its thin wood and light keys felt perfect in my hands.

Playing it was a revelation—all problems ceased to exist. The low notes, almost impossible on the plastic instrument, sounded easily. A morendo (the tone fading away to nothing) was previously crude and uneven, and I blamed it on poor breath control. But on the Lorée, the note spun out effortlessly.  

**News Flash** I just received an email from the Lorée company, stating that this special oboe was made in 1882, presumably under the supervision of François Lorée himself, as he started the company in 1881. Although a real antique, it was a regular ring-key Conservatoire system with a low Bb. Perhaps this history might account for its singularly enchanted quality.

After college, I started searching for an oboe to replace my beloved Lorée. I collected the following five oboes, three of which are Lorées, but none of them seemed to warrant putting into good playing condition.

The top oboe in the photo is a Lorée from the 1920’s. It might have promise, but unfortunately, it has an undesirable automatic octave system. Semi-automatic octave keys are the only good type.

The next one is also a Lorée, this one from the 1960’s, but somehow its magic quotient is low.

The middle oboe is marked Getzen, usually an American maker of brass  instruments. This oboe was in fact made in France and only labeled for Getzen. It is not a bad instrument, but is no substitute for a Lorée.

This Getzen tends to be watery, meaning that condensation from playing sometimes climbs the bore and gets into the keywork, creating a  gurgling sound. The temporary solution is to insert a piece of absorbent cigarette paper. This was difficult to buy, since people assumed it was for illicit purposes. When I found a brand without glue (Reynolds OCB), I bought two cartons, enough for several lifetimes, and gave one case to the dignified Mr. McGuire. He thanked me, adding that it was embarrassing for him to have to ask for the incriminating cigarette papers.

The fourth example in the photograph is an antique oboe by Lorée, and the fifth and last example is a similar instrument by Barnett Samuel. These might be o.k. if put in playing order, but the keywork is not what is known as Conservatoire system, and so these two will remain simply as curiosities.

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Early photographs of oboists are fascinating to collect. These are more difficult to locate than photos of players on, say, the violin or cornet (another instrument I love), but as always patience is rewarded.

This distinguished photo is British, but the oboe seems more Continental. With its heavy turnings and wide ivory rings, it appears to have been old-fashioned even at the time of the photograph.

This young man seems at ease with life and with his choice of instrument—let’s face it, he chose wisely.

This gentleman from Reading, Pennsylvania is playing a Boehm-system oboe made by Buffet, Crampon, a rather daring and avant-garde oboe for its day.

An unusual photograph of a female oboist. One wonders how you can "breathe from the diaphragm" while wearing a corset. This photo is marked for Nice, France, but another photo of the same woman was taken by a photographer in Brighton, England.

An oboe collector’s card that came in a packet of chocolate.

This trade card is too cartoonish to tell much. Since it is French, perhaps it is intended to depict a musette, a small, pastoral version of the oboe.

This oboist is perhaps a soldier from World War I.

This man was versatile enough to play both the oboe and the violin. Good luck reading that signature.

This is Charles Nutick, oboist with the Cincinnati Symphony in the 1920’s. The instrument on his lap is a slightly odd English horn. With its light wood and spherical bell, I thought it might perhaps be a tenor Heckelphone, but I wrote to the Heckel company, and they said that it was not their product.

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Many oboists made fine recordings during the LP era. These include John Mack (whom I also heard in person), Neil Black, Pierre Pierlot, Jacques Chambon, Alfred Hertel, and Heinz Holliger. Some of the legendary earlier oboists who also recorded are Marcel Tabuteau, Leon Goossens, Evelyn Rothwell, and Mitchell Miller, who later achieved fame as “Sing Along with Mitch.”

All of these oboists can now be found on Youtube, along with a host of younger talent, but I would like to point out two special recordings that you should not miss. The first is Neil Black playing my favorite version of the Mozart Oboe Concerto.

Rosemary from Where Five Valleys Meet highly recommended Nicholas Daniel, a world-class oboist. I was particularly impressed by his distinctive version of the Mozart Oboe Quartet.


Many people take up a musical instrument at some point. Please let me know what instruments you have learned to play, and whether you had the luck of finding the exact instrument that was perfectly suited to you.

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All photos and original items property of the author.

How Many Brass Mouthpieces Do You Need?

Last summer I was sorting through a box of brass instrument mouthpieces, placing them on a table as I unpacked them. My mother happening to come by asked me, “How many mouthpieces do you need, anyway?”

Of course, there is no limit to the number of mouthpieces I need, but what struck me about her question was that although they may appear similar, there are worlds of differences between mouthpieces that make ownership of many of them not an idle whim, but a vital necessity.

Unpacking these brass mouthpieces was like visiting old friends.

 

I like to play old brass instruments, especially the cornet and the alto horn, and each mouthpiece has its own qualities and merits. The difference they can make in the playability and sound of each instrument is almost unbelievable. This is in addition to their different appearances and historical associations.

The mouthpieces they make today can be very high quality, but may be very inappropriate to use with old instruments. This is especially true for cornet mouthpieces, which used to be conical in shape, and gave a more mellow sound. Today’s cornet mouthpieces are more like miniature trumpet mouthpieces, featuring a cup-shaped interior, and give even antique cornets a more brilliant, trumpet-like sound, which is at odds with old cornet music, which, while capable of brilliance, revels in its moonbeams-and-roses, Victorian atmosphere.

The late 19^th and early 20^th century were the golden era of brass instruments, when every town had its own brass band, and cornet and trombone soloists such as Jules Levy, Herbert L. Clarke, and Arthur Pryor were all household names. Many old mouthpieces feature the names of premium manufacturers, and were modeled after the preferences of the famous brass soloists of years gone by.

When you obtain an old brass instrument, you should gather as many historical mouthpieces as possible, and see which ones fit the instrument, your anatomy (embouchure), and personal playing style. Here are a few particular ones from my collection:

This tuba mouthpiece is very special to me, as it belonged to my grandfather, a professional tuba player and music store owner in Canton, Ohio. It was custom made to his specifications by the famous maker Vincent Bach, and has my grandfather’s initials, E.G. for Edward Gottlieb, stamped on it.

Here are two very early ivory mouthpieces made for bass instruments such as serpents and ophicleides.   

An example in the V&A of a serpent, an early bass instrument and predecessor of the ophicleide and tuba, and often played with ivory mouthpieces like the above.



Three trombone mouthpieces from different eras. At left is a modern Vincent Bach, in the middle an anonymous Victorian example, and on the right an early 20^th century Lyon and Healy, a fine maker, with its more sleek “moderne” shape.

Two trombone mouthpieces endorsed by famous players. At left is a Conn Pryor model. Arthur Pryor was possibly the greatest trombone player in history. On the right is an Innes model, also by Conn, named for Frederick Neil Innes.



Arthur Pryor was a trombone player whose virtuosity was stunning, and whose playing was often captured on early records. He also wrote many brilliant trombone solos still played today.

Frederick Neil Innes was another trombone soloist of the golden era, who likewise wrote solo compositions still popular with all brass players.

Here are two alto-range mouthpieces. First, a mellophone mouthpiece by Conn—all brass instruments and mouthpieces by Conn are first-rate. Next to it is a cheap, modern alto mouthpiece by Herco (even the name sounds unpleasant!). There really should be a law forbidding Conn and Herco to be photographed together. Herco is a terrible mouthpiece, uncomfortable to play and inferior-sounding. These are often given to new students, who understandably give up after a short while, thinking that the fault is theirs. There really is no excuse for poor quality mouthpieces like Herco or Jupiter when so many fine ones are being made—or just lying around. They deserve C.S. Lewis’s description as mouthpieces “that the lip loves not.”

A modern but fine quality French horn mouthpiece by Rudy Muck, which I found at a house sale just last summer.

Three early trumpet mouthpieces, by Hill, anonymous, and Cousenon, the latter a fine French maker.

More modern trumpet mouthpieces by Holton (always a great name), Vincent Bach (again), and H.N. White, a maker of professional quality instruments in Cleveland, Ohio.

Finally, we get to the all-important category of cornet and bugle mouthpieces. Here are two very early examples.

Classic early cornet mouthpieces by Pepper, Besson (another important French maker), McMillin (another quality Cleveland maker), and Charles Triebert. Charles was the brother of Frederic Triebert, the maker most important in developing the modern oboe (my main instrument). The Charles Triebert company continued into the 20^th century, and appears to be a mass maker of many types of band instruments.

A variety of good cornet mouthpieces. First, a modern Vincent Bach (naturally!),  followed by a fine and classic Frank Holton. Next is a H.N. White cornet mouthpiece (White was McMillin’s foreman, and apparently took over his operations.) Finally, a Conn Wonder, an instrument and mouthpiece that seems to find special favor with musicians.

A top view shows the differences between old and newer cornet mouthpieces. Notice the shallow, cup-like depression in the Bach mouthpiece on the left, in addition to its general massiveness, compared to the deep, conical interior of the older and lighter Holton model on the right. The shape of the interior is probably the single-most important factor in the basic sound of the instrument.

A spectacular find, “The only genuine Levy Model” made by Lyon and Healy. Jules Levy was the greatest cornetist of the late 19^th century.  

Jules Levy was habitually known as “The World’s Greatest Cornetist.” Although he did make a few fine records in the early 1900’s, he was by then a little past his prime, but these records are still treasured. In addition to his brilliant playing, he was known for his beautiful phrasing, and famous opera singers would attend his concerts to hear him play and learn phrasing from him.

Along with the mouthpieces themselves, one has to look out for the small tuning bits or shanks, which could correct the pitch of an instrument in an era of multiple pitch standards, or even make it play in another key, while acting as a liaison between mouthpiece and instrument.

A special tribute to my very favorite: an anonymous 19^th century alto horn mouthpiece. It might not look like much, but it plays great, and is very comfortable. I brought this to Taiwan to play with an old Conn alto horn from the 1920’s, but unfortunately brass instruments are too penetrating to play in an apartment (I don’t hate my neighbors that much!).

At this point, the different silhouettes of the mouthpieces will convey more meaning, as well as show the size range for the several types of instruments. This just represents one box worth, and is hardly a treatise on mouthpieces, but I hope that some of their basic differences and qualities have been illustrated.

How does one acquire so many examples? When I was in college, I used to stop in at older-looking music stores and ask if they had any old mouthpieces lying around. They usually came up with a box of miscellaneous parts and junk from the back room from which I could choose; some real treasures turned up this way.

If you play a wind or brass instrument, did you have a special mouthpiece that made all the difference when playing it? What about brass instruments in general—do you have a particular favorite? Although I most often play the alto horn, my real favorite is the old-fashioned cornet, especially when played by the likes of Jules Levy, Herbert Clarke, or Bohumir Kryl on early records. 

You are supposed to blow horns to usher in the New Year. I hope that this post will get everyone in the mood, and that all my readers have a happy, healthy and prosperous 2018!

All mouthpieces and photos of same property of the author.

Photos of Pryor, Levy and the Serpent via Wikipedia.
Photo of Innes located here.

Happy Birthday Sigrid Arnoldson, plus a cautionary tale

My last trip to Cleveland, I was going through a box of old photographs and came across the following dramatic portrait, obviously a singer or actress. Although the features seemed familiar, I couldn't recall whose portrait this was, so I looked at the back, only to be confronted with a blank expanse. 

Mystery portrait: Who is she???

The identity was known when I obtained it, but nothing was written on this large photo, which was likewise dissociated from any receipts or catalog entries. In other words, an orphan photograph. However, luck was watching out for me, for later a small album yielded this late 19^th century trade card of singer Sigrid Arnoldson, advertising Lorillard tobacco:

 

This certainly looked like the photo, and now that I had a name it was a matter of minutes to look on the internet and confirm the identification with other Arnoldson photos from the same session, such as this one on the delcampe.net website. 

 

Sigrid Arnoldson, a famous Swedish singer with an international career who lived from 1861 to 1943, was an important part of the music scene in the late Nineteenth century. In a manner reminiscent of Adelina Patti, Arnoldson combined the high status of classical singers with the relentless merchandising of the period to enter the realm of popular culture. Her face and name appear often in relics of the period, frequently in sets of trade cards issued by tobacco and other companies.

Luckily, Arnoldson lived into the era of early phonograph recordings, so her voice was preserved for the future.  That same visit, I opened a box of old 78-RPM records stored in a cabinet, and miraculously there was Arnoldson's 1906 Berlin rendition of the Swiss Echo Song, a popular Victorian display piece. (You may hear this recording, although not from my copy, on Youtube.) 

  

 

The important lesson here is that we are the custodians of the objects we collect, and there is no excuse to allow identifying information to be lost. Names and locations should be written on the backs of photographs with pencil (but please avoid ink or felt tips, which over the years will bleed through). 

Arnoldson's birthday is March 20^th, which makes this an especially appropriate time to review her story. I must have had a premonition that I would one day be called on to celebrate her birthday: I was all prepared with this c.1890 box of Sigrid Arnoldson Birthday Candles! That is the pleasure of collecting—once someone like Arnoldson registers on your mental radar, locating an insignificant object like these candles becomes an occasion of great excitement and amusement.

Still filled with the original candles!

 

The spirit of Sigrid Arnoldson must have been at my elbow last summer, protecting her image from neglect. Although most of my things are packed away in deep storage, it seems that every time I opened a box I found an object related to her. A few days before I left, one last very beautiful portrait from 1894 virtually materialized in a folder of architectural photographs. She looks very relaxed now that I have labeled her picture, and order has been restored!

Sigrid Arnoldson, March 20, 1861 – February 7, 1943

All photographs and original items, except as noted, property of the author.

A Tribute in Tin to Adelina Patti, the Queen of Song

Adelina Patti, 1843-1919, was one of the great phenomena of the Nineteenth century.  Her career as an opera singer was a succession of triumphs from her debut in 1859 until the early 1900’s, when she “retired” into an endless series of farewell tours.  In addition to her musical accomplishments, Patti possessed a true star quality that made her a household name even to those unable to attend her performances.

Her fame also made her quite possibly the most photographed woman of the Victorian era. Dozens of portraits abound, typically as paper photos mounted on cardboard. Yet not long ago I came across this fairly unusual one dating from the 1880's, painted over a full-plate tintype. 

Painted tintype of Adelina Patti, after Mora.
As usual, click any picture to enlarge.

Tintypes, sometimes called  ferrotypes, were photographs on tin plates that were very common in the 19^th century. As much as we might admire them today, they were originally an inexpensive form of photography suited to itinerant photographers and outdoor venues. Perhaps the quintessential tintype is one that depicts beach-side vacationers in their Victorian bathing suits. 

Some people as an economical alternative to regular oil portraits had full-plate tintypes (about six by eight inches) taken, then colored or painted over to simulate an original painting. However, a star of Patti’s stature would have been above this form of photography, and in fact tintypes of celebrities are rare almost to the point of non-existence.

The original of this portrait is instantly recognizable. It was taken in 1882 by the American celebrity photographer Mora, and with others from the same session is often seen in cabinet format (about four by six inches) . Although there were dozens of Patti portraits to choose from, the Mora photograph seemed to represent an ideal of the period, and was seen in many guises.

A slightly different angle.

3/4 length, and hand tinted.

In addition to being copied in tin in the present case, this photo was also pressed into service for advertising, among other things, Chicago Corsets and Pears’ soap.

Celebrity endorsements are nothing new.

One wonders if Patti were paid or even consulted on these ads.

I also have a stereoview of the Mora portrait encased in skeleton leaves. These leaves were a favorite Victorian craft, and arrangements were encased under glass domes or preserved in photographs. Often, portraits encircled by wreaths of skeleton leaves are erroneously assumed to be memorial pictures. Since Patti lived until 1919, the wreath in this 19^th century photo was only meant to provide an attractive setting.

It is easy to imagine some early fan of Patti’s, entranced by her fame, beauty and personality, creating this unusual tribute.  The Mora photograph was first copied as a tintype.  Perhaps some experimenting was required to produce the large tintype; when I bought this it was accompanied by a rather poor-quality, small-sized tintype of the same photo.

The artist who colored this photo was a very good one.  The skin tones are perfect, every eyelet and detail of lace painstakingly depicted, and the background is beautifully stippled, resembling enamel. The dress was enlivened with bright red, and the highlights in the hair wonderfully enhanced. Age has crazed the painted surface, and although the paint is solidly adhering, and not yet separating or flaking, this will have to be monitored in the future.

In addition to photographs, Patti’s image was also recorded by professional artists. The painter Franz Winterhalter famously painted her twice; the beautiful picture below is at Harewood House in Yorkshire, England. The almost folk-art charm of the painted tintype becomes very apparent when compared to the elegant Winterhalter portrait.

Formal portrait by Winterhalter, via Harewood House website.

I love to imagine the Patti tintype in its original setting, on the wall of some Victorian parlor. Portraits of this period were often mounted in deeply-molded walnut frames, and one can clearly see the shadow of an oval mat. I will be on the lookout for an appropriate frame, but in the meantime through the magic of photo-editing I have restored the tintype to a surmise of its original appearance.

Adelina Patti was one of the greatest artists and celebrities of the Nineteenth century. Through her career, portraits, advertising and recordings she left her mark on both the serious musical history and on the popular culture of her day.  Her admirers were legion, and one of them went to substantial trouble to commission this unusual souvenir in tin and pigment.

A Jingling Johnny Puts in a Rare Appearance

The Rehearsal

   

Taking the time to examine historic objects brings out details that imbue the articles with interest. The above photo is from an 1870’s stereoview and shows a typical genre scene of a musical rehearsal, but a second glance shows that the photographer recorded something unusual. 

There are four male musicians accompanied by a woman playing a keyboard instrument. Two of the men are playing a cornet and a trombone, both perfectly ordinary. One is playing an early tuba, highlighted in a blue square, but the most interesting is the performer on the right, highlighted in red, who is playing the Turkish crescent, also known as the Jingling Johnny.

The jingling Johnny blends in with the elaborate sconce behind

The Turkish crescent was a percussion instrument, basically a pole hung with bells. Mostly a flashy parade instrument, it was meant to be shaken or twisted to ring the bells. It is still made and used to some extent, so is not entirely obsolete. This one is very typical, with a crescent on top, conical “hat” below (yet another name is chapeau chinois, or Chinese hat), and a larger crescent below that, all hung with bells. Their polished brass and exotic shape make them popular with musical instrument museums, as with these examples:

Turkish crescent in Boston MFA

Example in Basel

and one in Germany

The Turkish influence was popular in Western music starting from the 18^th century—think of Mozart’s Rondo alla Turca. Many pianos of the period had Turkish or Janissary stops which controlled various bells, cymbals and drums.

Although the jingling Johnny itself was popular, photographs of it are rare, especially in use, and this is the only photo I have seen that shows it in a home environment. Thus this photograph, even if possibly staged, gives evidence of how people used and thought of the instrument.

Notice the very wide conical bell on this tuba, with almost no flare

Most mechanized brass instruments were developed in the 19^th century, but this tuba seems primitive even by the standards of 1870. It is still shaped very much like the earlier ophicleide, from which it was developed. Notice that the bell end is simply a wide truncated cone, with very little flare to it. The tuba in this photo resembles the Moritz tuba, which Phillip Young remarks is noted for its early primitiveness.

Ophicleide, early brass bass instrument, by Guichard, MFA

Early tuba by Moritz

Early American tuba by Gilmore

More modern tuba by White (made in Cleveland!)

This baritone also shows the typical modern brass profile

Here is the entire stereoview. (The two halves were taken at slightly different angles, and appear three-dimensional when viewed through a special viewer.) The image as a whole helps tell us how people spent time and entertained themselves 140 years ago, playing instruments, forming home music ensembles, and even looking at stereoviews. An interest in musical instruments lets us notice the individual elements of this photo, with the result that two early and unusual instruments are brought into focus.

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Images:

MFA crescent, Guichard ophicleide and Gilmore tuba courtesy Boston Museum of Fine Arts, www.mfa.org.

Basel crescent courtesy HISTORISCHES MUSEUM BASEL, www.hmb.ch.

Moritz tuba from The Look of Music, by Phillip Young.

White tuba courtesy U. of Michigan Stearns Collection, www.music.umich.edu.

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