The recorder and me – an initially hesitant love

Christmas carols and Frans Brüggen

Measles, mumps, and recorder – youthful experience – for me too

As befitting a respectable small town pharmacist's household i, there was a piano. Just in the hallway, but black and imposing. For an eight-year-old like me it seemed too imposing.

So for me it was the recorder. I could play Christmas carols on it – Grandma would surely be pleased.

Ok - one afternoon, I marched back to school with my brand-new „Hopf“ recorder and the  "Spelemann fang an" tutor – back to Mrs. Protzer, our teacher. I think we were only three in total.

If the others enjoyed it more than me, I don't know. Personally, I didn't find it particularly great.

The older girls – as I saw – got to play larger recorders, for school celebrations and such. I surely could never do.

Gradually I developed a rather utilitarian relationship with recorder lessons: The lesson was on Tuesdays at 3. So, I practiced on Tuesdays at 2 – no one should be able to say I didn't practice!

In the end my parents showed mercy: I could set the recorder aside and learn a "real" instrument – I was allowed to sit at the "black monster."

From then on, I had to practice much more. And the poor piano had to endure a lot in the years to come.

But that's another story…

The rediscovery

The piano had a big advantage: I could play "real" music on it.

In addition to all the heroes of classical music – mostly stern-looking gentlemen – there was something more: First, it was called Beat, then Rock, Blues, Pop. The louder, the better! What I was still unable to do on the (then new) guitar was hammered into the keys.

And then there was this crazy group: Jethro Tull actually had someone playing the flute! Granted, it was the transverse flute –it sounded quite different from "Jingle Bells" on my old Hopf recorder. it was interesting... fascinating...

So, it was possible to make "real" music on something like a flute.

But I could only play the recorder, and I couldn't achieve that rough sound of Ian Anderson. Maybe it was the recorder?

So, I took a screwdriver and – let's call it: modified the labium a bit.

A partial success. It still didn't sound like Ian Anderson, but definitely different than before – my first attempt at recorder making!

And he played Bach too – "Bourrée." Others were playoing old pieces in a rock style. Someone played "Brandenburg" (the third). Some music  sounded like old English dances – and on the piano I had already discovered my fondness for what we now call "early music."

That interested me more and more – I wanted to know how it "really" soundeds.

So, I began to listen to this music – voluntarily, with joy and interest. Starting with some Vivaldi and Bach, followed by  the early Baroque heroes – Praetorius, Monteverdi, Dowland.

A paradise unfolded before me.

Okay – Led Zeppelin wasn't bad, but this – ît was real music – an incredible universe!

Blame it on Frans Brüggen

Someone brought a record (now called "vinyl"): "Baroque Recorder Works."

What – recorder...???

From the sleeve a friendly young man smiled at me. Frans Brüggen, it said, was also a "test pilot" for a renowned Dutch recorder maker.

And the music... It was so different from the girls at the school celebrations. Not so straight, precise, more like "played along." But the sound – I could hardly believe it!

I wanted that too!

School was long behind me by now (we'll come to that) – and I could afford a recorder. So, I held my second „Hopf“ recorder in my hands – this time a "real" one – an alto recorder. It had double holes at the bottom – they told me that was the baroque fingering - I believed it. Much later, one of my great joys was showing players how to convert a German fingering recorder to a baroque fingered one...

I didn't want to start with "small steps" anymore – I bought a Handel sonata. If I didn't play everything too fast, I could manage with it. The advantage: There was no high F in it – I wasn't so good at that. Or could the recorder not do it?

I felt like I had found a musical homeground.

Let's fast forward the rest:

It didn't stop at the Hopf recorder – many others followed.

And the Handel sonata was just my clumsy beginning. Later, I had quite good lessons for a while. Something grew, and I had the opportunity, over and over again, to play fine music on small stages with good amateur musicians.

Even long after Frans Brüggen had stopped playing the recorder.