Margaret Roach Talk: “Taking up an Instrument”, part of the BBC Home Service series “Two of a Kind”

Margaret Roach Talk: “Taking up an Instrument”, part of the BBC Home Service radio series “Two of a Kind”. Producer: Jack Singleton.

Recorded 16^th October 1961 at BBC Bristol.

(intro: few bars of “Blue Corn Swing” played on recorder by speaker)

One of the most remarkable post-war phenomena in this country has been the rise of the recorder - not the tape one nor the bewigged one, but the tubular one with a row of little holes alleged by some of us to emit musical sounds. Twenty years ago, it was almost unknown. Now, you can hardly walk down a street without hearing, through the old lace curtains or the new Venetian blinds, its plaintive cry, for the splendid thing about this instrument is that you can take it up at any age and, in a remarkably short space of time, can learn to play it fairly badly. You then find others also yearning for self-expression and proceed to play together - in consort, to use the technical term. This is a delightful experience: everybody will be out of tune with everyone else but, happily, the players’ minds being deeply concerned with more pressing matters, nobody will be aware of this, except the audience.

Some types of room are better for consort playing than others: the more cushions, curtains, carpets, rugs and draperies there are surrounding you, the more the tones and overtones will be kindly but firmly absorbed. Best of all, of course, is the padded cell.

There is also a certain rustic charm in playing out of doors. It is a wise measure to sit to the windward, as in this position the most strident trumpetings, even your own, are reduced to pale amorphous melancholy. A pleasing change in dynamics is to be observed when the wind blows up the recorder at the same moment that the player blows down - complete silence ensues. Incidentally, an indigestible mouthful of nothing is being swallowed by players who may be slow to take evasive action. Those who go in for this form of outdoor sport will require a supply of stout clothes-pegs to anchor music to stand in the teeth of a gale and also sufficient strength of purpose to ignore the row of incredulous faces which will appear above the garden fence.

The care of the instrument is important. Players must refrain from nibbling the mouthpiece as if it were a pencil or a stick of rock. It is desirable also to pay due regard to the footpiece and to see that it is firmly and snugly ensconced. Otherwise it is liable in a fit of pique to fall off during a concert; an occurrence which always brings joy to the audience but is a sore embarrassment to the performer. If you take your instrument to a friend’s house for a musical evening, you should arm yourself with a basin or a small spittoon, for recorders, particularly the larger ones, are not altogether house-trained, and will, in moments of emotion, leak upon your hostess’ carpet.

The recorder’s range is two chromatic octaves and rather more in you are prepared to go to the length of stopping up the end smartly with your knee. This gives an astonishing new note but is not entirely to be recommended as front teeth do give a nice finish to a performer’s face. It is safer though more expensive to have a key fitted. An interesting variety of notes is also available to those ready to experiment in overblowing and gurgling. For those requiring harmony, there is the expedient of putting two instruments in the mouth at once.

Another splendid thing about the recorder is the way in which it panders to the acquisitive instinct. If you are a pianist you must be content with one instrument and, indeed, probably only a part share of that. If you are a recorder player, however, the possibilities are infinite. Henry VIII collected and cared for eighty but that was a long time ago and now we can do better. To begin with, recorders come in five sizes and the serious student must own, and play, one of each. Furthermore, you need your solo instrument (as loud as possible) and your consort instrument (as soft as possible - if it can’t be heard at all so much the better). There are also several makes of recorder and as their pitches are unlikely to be identical, it is a good idea to have one of every make - in every size of course - as this will enable you to play in a group with some chance of being in tune, assuming that the other members of the group have a full range of alternatives too. If they have, all will be well - provided that everyone blows the same - a ticklish business this: possibly some kind of pressure gauge may one day be devised to assist the judgment of those musicians who happen to be tone-deaf.

Recorders vary also in material. They are made in a number of woods, in plastic and in ivory and also in gold, silver and uranium, for all I know, so it is evident that they can satisfy the passions of a collector quite as well as stamps or cheese labels.

The uses of the instrument, particularly in schools, are manifold. The treble can always be relied upon to give a good sound performance as a cuckoo if your school play happens to be about the Spring. The bass is helpful on those occasions when you may wish to imitate a boat going up the river, while the descant will, if you are hard pressed, do duty as the referee’s whistle in the House matches. For those about to embark on a singing lesson, faced with forty pupils and no piano, the recorder fills a long-felt want, enabling the class to start on the right note instead of on some arbitrary offering from the teacher, guaranteed to land all in trouble before the end of the verse. Moreover, the note having been given, and duly accepted, the recorder is, in the twinkling of an eye, transformed into the conductor’s baton. This is not quite so easy if your instrument happens to be a piano.

I must admit that playing in a massed band of recorders requires a high degree of fortitude, but playing with instruments of variable pitch like the string family never seems to lose its charm. I have a good carefree blow secure in the knowledge that when I am out of tune it is the others who are expected to adjust.

Undoubtedly the recorder’s repertoire tends to be a trifle on the square side. Its “trad” fans look back to “Summer is icumin in” and similar capers, while its only rock numbers appear to be the cradle songs of Shakespeare’s day - but let us not despair on that account. It is a versatile and responsive little instrument, needing only diplomatic handling and, has something to say to cool cats, too, given the chance. Playing the recorder cool, or even hot, has in addition, the advantage of removing all anxiety over intonation since it appears that in the unsquare world the more the player hangs about in the vicinity of the note, the further the audience is “sent”. A reassuring thought - so dig this, man, or, if you prefer, blow, man, blow.”