Ardal Powell is President
of Folkers and Powell, flute-makers
in Hudson, New York, USA. He studied
at Cambridge and Koninklijk Conservatorium,
the Netherlands.
I thought I would just
leaf through this book and put it aside,
but surprisingly found myself reading
carefully through it. It is one of those
wonderful books we hardly see any more
with an astonishing density of facts
presented in such a clear and economical
writing style that you find out far
more than you could ever remember about
the flute; more than I ever thought
anyone even knew about the flute. The
author’s dedication and enthusiasm are
infectious. And I never once had to
go back to read a sentence twice to
get the sense of it. The organisation
of the material is mostly in historical
sequence, with only slight deviations
to group material on a single topic
together, which makes the book useful
as a reference work which is what it
will be to most of its intended readership.
We begin in 900 BCE and end up the day
before yesterday. Every historical source
known to the writer is presented, discussed
and analysed to determine its trustworthiness,
with all objections elaborated and discussed.
A number of ancient and medieval drawings,
for instance, are for various reasons
dismissed as mere legend or decoration.
There is an extensive discussion of
tuning systems, modern playing styles
and the tiniest details of the construction
of modern instruments. I had no idea
that the concept of equal temperament
was as critical to flute design as it
is to keyboard design, or that it affected
so many other areas of musical art.
This book will prove
to be an indispensable reference for
students of the flute, composers, players
and conductors, musicologists, ethnomusicologists.
Ordinary music lovers such as my self
will probably be content to get it at
a circulating library and read as much
as patience allows, and maybe go back
and refer to it from time to time as
questions come up in listening. There
are many illustrations and they are
all directly to the point. I was particularly
interested in the portraits of people
like Quantz who I’ve naturally read
much about but never knew what he looked
like. The photograph of dignified Adolphe
Hennebains as a piping Pan, wearing
only an animal skin and hiding in a
bush with leaves on his head is certainly
the camp highlight of the book. The
seating plan of the Dresden orchestra
for performance of operas by Hasse in
1764 was of great interest when I showed
it to a musicologist/conductor friend
of mine. And here is a group photograph
of the first chair wind players of the
Philharmonia Orchestra in 1950.
The book observes academic
political correctness in that all indefinite
pronouns are of the feminine gender.
We are fortunate here
to have a local flutist who gives regular
recitals on the modern flute, recorder,
and wooden transverse flute and next
time I can ask her some intelligent
questions the book has raised about
what she does and how and why she does
it.
Some interesting quotations:
"...the Late Victorian decline
of the traveling virtuoso permitted
early twentieth-century stars of the
flute, such as Moyse and Jean-Pierre
Rampal, to believe they were presenting
the flute as a solo instrument for the
first time. In reality it was only the
first time in living memory." And
another, "Records and rapid travel
have helped to ensure the prevalence
of a certain view, that of the post-war
French school, which is dominated by
Jean-Pierre Rampal."
Paul Shoemaker
