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FLAUTI SENZA BASSO
TELEMANN, J.S. BACH, AND C.P.E. BACH
Alone, I have never known boredom, even in the most absolute idleness; my imagination,
filling the emptiness, is enough on its own to occupy me.
Jean-Jacques Rousseau,
Les Confessions, 1770
The remains of the first flutes date from earliest times. While always based on the
principle of an edge that splits the stream of air blown by the player, the ancestors of the
flutes that we know today had very diverse forms. They had mouthpieces in the form of a
whistle, like the contemporary recorder; beveled mouthpieces, like the oblique flute; or
mouthpieces that consist of a simple opening placed on the side, like the transverse flute. In
all cases, the sound varies through the force and the angle at which the air strikes the edge,
as well as through the length of the tube that forms the instrument. Players quickly learned
to modify the effect of the instrument’s length by perforating the tube and placing the fingers
on the holes.
The recorder became established in the West in ancient times, and was an
extremely popular instrument during the Middle Ages. Beginning in the Renaissance, it
came to be used in art music, and composers wrote pieces specifically for it. Like viols and
other instruments, recorders were made in a number of sizes producing a range of voices,
from high to low, so that the instruments could be played together in a consort. In the
Baroque era, the alto recorder in F dominated, but there were also smaller recorders in C
and D. With its conical bore and adjustable sections, acquired around 1700, the instrument
attained a high degree of technical perfection. Rivalry with the transverse flute stimulated
this development. Composers relied on its clear sound for innumerable scales and
arpeggios, and for fearless leaps across large intervals. For a long time the term "flute"
referred to the recorder while, for reasons that still remain mysterious to us, the term
"German flute" was used to designate the transverse flute.
It is in 9th-century China that we find the earliest example of what was to become
known as the transverse flute. Not until the 12th century did the instrument arrive, via
Byzantium, in Europe. With rare exceptions, the transverse flute was used like a recorder
during the Middle Ages and the Renaissance, though it is more difficult to play. Like the
recorder, it was made in various sizes. Beginning around 1650 it began to grow in
popularity, and a century later it had displaced the recorder in the favor of both musicians
and the public. The way in which the transverse flute was made changed considerably. The
French gave it a slightly conical form and extended its range. Soon it was being made in
three adjustable sections with a key to close a seventh tone hole. Then, in the 18th century,
thanks to the joint efforts of composers, players, and makers, the instrument was improved
so that, though there was no change to its fundamental nature, you could do more with it,
and with less effort. Thus, around 1720, the central section of the flute was divided into two
parts so that the instrument could be supplied with corps de rechange, interchangeable
sections of varying length that allowed it to be played in a range of keys and tunings.
Several decades later, the acquisition of yet more tone holes closed by keys extended its
range downwards.
In the first decade of the 18th century composers, both in France and other parts of
Europe, began to produce all kinds of music for the transverse flute. Though the title pages
of many collections of sonatas suggest that the transverse flute can replace the violin, the
instrument soon acquired its own repertoire. Virtuoso players, who knew how to make use of
the subtle differences in sonority produced in the fingering of particular notes, wrote
innumerable sonatas and concertos, often for their own use. Other composers, such as
Bach and Vivaldi, were inspired to write for the flute by their meetings with very fine flute
players or, like Telemann, simply took advantage of the popularity of the instrument to offer
artful compositions to talented amateurs. The transverse flute is both simple and extremely
refined in its expressive possibilities; it can evoke tenderness, grace, and natural simplicity,
qualities that were well suited to the emotional climate of the Enlightenment.
Most Baroque music uses a basso continuo accompaniment. Certainly almost all
chamber music of the period does, even works designated as "solos." A few rare
compositions, however, were written for a melody instrument with the specific indication
senza basso (without bass). Like, Bach, who wrote his well-known sonatas and suites for
solo violin or cello, other composers gave recorders and transverse flutes a valuable
repertoire of genuine solos; delicate, ingenious, and virtuosic works in which the flute seems
to be sharing secrets with us. But where strings can produce simultaneous sounds as well
as more or less arpeggiated chords — Bach succeeded in writing genuine fugues for the
violin — flutes can only produce one sound at time.
Instead, masters such as Bach or Telemann wrote solo music that uses an aural
effect (like the visual effect of trompe-l’oeil, so popular in their time), in which the listener
seems to hear not one but two flutes. This effect of polyphony is achieved by rapidly
alternating, with both notes and motifs, between the high and the low registers, and by
playing with questions and responses resembling a conversation or an interior dialogue
between different characters. Thus, though melody was then the main means of musical
expression, compositions for solo flute, whether recorder or transverse flute, illustrate one of
the key features of the aesthetic of the time, and do so through an illusion created by
pushing the technical possibilities of the flute to their limits. And, in a typically Baroque
phenomenon, the illusion becomes even more striking when the listener knows that it results
from the cleverness of the composer and the skill of the performer. Our pleasure and
wonder are increased by our knowledge that we are being tricked!
© François Filiatrault, 2006.
Translated by Sean McCutcheon