It was around this time that two of Glière’s four pieces, the Intermezzo and Tarantella were written, being published together as Deux Morceaux op. 9 in 1903 and dedicated to Serge Koussevizky. It was not the first time that these two Soviet musicians crossed paths, and it would certainly not be the last. Glière and Koussevitzky first met in Moscow during Glière’s period as a student there, and the two formed a friendship that was to endure throughout their professional lives. It is speculated that Koussevitzky commissioned these two pieces from Glière to fuel his burgeoning career as a solo double bassist, having given his first public recital on the instrument in 1901 but being held back by the scarcity of solo works. Koussevitzky was evidently impressed by the two pieces, and it is often said that he enlisted the help of Glière in writing his own double bass concerto in 1905. Despite the widespread nature of this legend, there is little evidence to support it. Koussevitzky’s biographer Moses Smith has suggested that the concerto was actually written in 1902, and besides, the clumsy orchestration of the work is quite unlike that of the more delicate Glière.

The remaining two pieces, the Praeludium and Scherzo, were published together in 1908 as Deux Piecès op. 32, also dedicated to Koussevitzky. In January of that same year, Koussevitzky had conducted the premiere of Glière’s Symphony no. 2 in Berlin as part of his very first public appearance as a conductor, in the city where he had received his first critical acclaim outside of Russia. It is clear that the friendship between these two musicians was still strong, and these two pieces for solo double bass play on Koussevitzky’s strengths as a virtuoso performer, remaining a key part of the double bass repertoire even today.

The Praeludium, the first piece heard in this four-piece collection, opens with a section for solo double bass which introduces the main theme: an ascending arpeggio pattern and a sequential rising and falling scale. Throughout this short piece this idea is reworked by Glière with extreme motivic efficiency, exploring the material in ever more chromatic ways and constantly trading phrases between the double bass and the piano. The next piece, the Scherzo, opens with a flourish from the piano before leading into a dance-like rondo theme in F major. A contrasting middle section in D flat major follows, moving to a more thoughtful mood and a singing legato melody in the double bass. This slowly gives way to the original dance theme before the contrasting section is recapitulated in the coda, first in D major and then in D minor. The music accelerates towards a final brief presto, ending in a flurry of notes as the dance theme returns to close the movement.

The Intermezzo opens with calm, measured chords in the piano, soon joined by a tranquil, elegiac melody in the double bass that floats above the accompaniment like leaves on water. Soon following this is a more agitated section, with dramatic leaping dotted figures perhaps foreshadowing some of the more operatic sections in the outer movement of Koussevitzky’s own concerto. The open melody returns, this time with a richer, more chromatic harmonisation, but soon dissolving back to the tranquility of the opening, ending on a series of harmonics in the upper register of the double bass. The Tarantella is a virtuosic tour-de-force, with frequent chromatic harmonies and more than a healthy dose of cheekiness at times. Hidden amongst this is a yearning, anthemic melody reminiscent of some of Rachmaninov’s best tunes, which appears in a lucid moment of respite from the constantly moving quavers. The tarantella atmosphere soon reappears, with the piano reprising the anthem theme under a busy chromatic double bass line before the tarantella theme proper is recapitulated. Towards the end, the anthem bursts forth once more in full grandeur before the piece concludes in scurrying arpeggios that build in intensity right to the final bar.

Richard English

Sonata in E minor op. 6, for double bass and piano

Con fuoco
Andante cantabile – Animato – Tempo I
Furiant: Allegro energico; Trio: Molto tranquillo – Tempo I
Finale: Allegro appassionato

Prague’s iconic status as a cultural centre tends to obscure the reality of musical life in Bohemia. Far from being an exclusively metropolitan story, music as both a pastime and a professional occupation often owed its existence to the provinces. In fact, a majority of the musicians we have heard of, including the great Czech composers Smetana, Dvořák, Janáček and Martinů, came from villages or small towns in the countryside. In the later seventeenth century and the eighteenth this state of affairs was largely down to better musical education being available in the countryside. A network of village schoolmaster musicians and Jesuit seminaries provided a solid musical infrastructure; even in the nineteenth century strong musical institutions were only really established in Prague in the last fifty years.

This was very much the background experienced by Adolf Míšek (1875–1955). Born in the small Bohemian village of Modletín southeast of Prague, Míšek’s earliest musical training came from his musician father. Showing clear aptitude for the double bass he went at the age of fifteen not to Prague, but to the Vienna Conservatoire to study the instrument with the well-known performer and teacher František Simandl (1840–1912). Simandl, also a Czech, from the south Bohemian town of Blatná, had a distinguished career in both the Viennese Court Opera orchestra and the Vienna Philharmonic. Míšek followed in his teacher’s footsteps playing in the Court Opera orchestra from 1898 to 1920 as well as teaching at the Vienna Conservatoire from 1910 to 1914. From 1920 to 1934 he was a leading member of the Prague National Theatre Orchestra under its often controversial conductor Otakar Ostrčil who did much to modernise the operatic repertoire including performances of Berg’s Wozzeck. Míšek spent the rest of his life in Prague working as a soloist and a much respected teacher.

Apart from his main activities as a performer and teacher, Míšek was also a composer. Alongside collections of songs and folksong arrangements were a number of chamber works including sonatas for violin and cello as well as a piano trio and two string quartets. Perhaps understandably given his professional career, his works for double bass have claimed the most attention. These include a Capriccio (1899), a Polonaise (1903), a piece entitled Legende (1903), various studies and sonatas for double bass including the Sonata in E minor recorded here.

The sonata is a big-boned work in four substantial movements. A mood of passionate engagement is clear from the start of the first movement and is also present in the finale. The double bass takes the lead and is rarely silent assaying an abundance of vigorous figuration. An elegant Andante is followed by a vigorous scherzo movement; with a nod toward his Bohemian roots, Míšek employs the excitable cross-rhythms of the ‘furiant’, a dance pioneered by Smetana in the first scene of the second act of The Bartered Bride and later much favoured in instrumental works by Dvořák.

Jan Smaczny

And we seem to know intuitively that the lower the string the more help it needs to be clear. The higher up the string we stop notes ( shortening the string length ) the less resonance it produces.
In other words “Boom at the bottom, tinny at the top”.

From experimenting we discover that if we vary the distancing from the stopped point with our pizz finger it has a dramatic impact on attack and resonance. So for an open string, the maximum resonance is at the node/half-way point and if the two hands keep the same distance apart as they move we can maintain this resonance .
If we want less boom and more attack we can either pluck closer to the bridge (“hello rosin, my old friend – thanks for sticking with me!”) or favoured, in orchestral groups, plucking close to the left hand.
The faster we want to play, the less boom and drier articulation we want.

The good news is that nearly all of this applies to the bow!

Articulation can be described as the consonants and vowels sounds we make at the front of notes (‘B’ is a softer attack than ‘C’ or ‘T’. It is also helped by how we end notes ( sustained, decaying or growing) and the spaces in between them.

Exercise 1 : put your bow on the lowest string at the point, imagine the conductor being very unclear ( this never happens of course) and having to start a note pianissimo. What do you notice?
It probably started with a bump or started late right?

So next time, start by doing nothing but sensing the combined weight of your arm and beautiful bow sitting on the string. Start to flex and release the string, up and down, up and down, weight in, weight up. When you eliminate the tension of “ do it now!” or the insecurity of a scary atmosphere you will notice how much more open you are to experimenting.

Without being attached to the end result, focus on the process. The thought is “ Nothing to do, weight of arm and bow together, sink the string, “ float” the string up and as it rises move the bow towards the heel.”
Press/release and move.
Practice this in every part of the hair ( tip to heel) and every lane on each string. A lane is a term used to describe different bowing sites between the fingerboard and bridge. I like to imagine 5 bowing lanes. If you scratch you have learnt something. The question is “What can I do differently?”

Exercise 2.
Practice the alphabet of articulations. See how you can use your imagination to make words with the bow.

Once you have the string moving, there is no need to press or push.

Exercise 3. Starting and stopping.

You are now great at starting notes on time with a mixture of dynamics and fronts.
Now practice stopping notes by reversing the process “ weight in/trap the string with the hair by flexing the stick down. Let the flex go again to lift the bow and start the note.

Exercise 4.
See how many clean start/stops you can get in the same direction. Remember it’s a vertical up and down movement of the stick, not a side to side horizontal movement ( that comes after the click or almost inaudible click)
You are basically quickening your reaction time by working solely at the starting and stopping process and controlling the response to intention so that it becomes a new habit. Over time you will control the string by second nature.

The ability to stop the resonance easily with bow allows space to create the clear, clean start you want for the next note. Varying the space allows you open and close the gap and create a variety of articulations.
Ideally to be heard the double bass needs crisp, clear and concise note fronts. Finishing with a thoughtful end to notes will make sure the bass does not hold on later than other instruments.
You don’t want your sound to be ringing on if the chord has changed.
Imagine the confidence you will feeling knowing that you can start notes easily and efficiently.
If you would like to improve your articulation, please get in touch to book a lesson.

Over the next few weeks we are going to take a 360 degree look at the essential elements of orchestral double bass playing.

I was lucky enough to play in youth orchestras from age 11, but it was not until I started my first professional job (Scottish Opera 1987) that I began to really understood what the job entailed.

These were some of the challenges that came up early on, for which I had to develop strategies very quickly:
How to start notes easily, punctually and with different articulations in a range of dynamics.
How to make sure I was playing in tune even when I could not hear myself in the huge orchestral texture.
When and how to cut through the texture and even compete with the brass and percussion.

How to play loudly for extended passages ( tremolo, rapid repeats etc ) without becoming fatigued or even injured.
Discover how to blend with a section and other sections.

What to play with in the musical context. What to listen out for and how to develop good radar.
How to cope and what to do when the conductor asks to hear the double basses section on their own. You only have to listen to recordings of Arturo Toscanini screaming at his bass section to know what heat can be like!
How to play fast passages. We all want to run before we can walk but what helps us play quick passages accurately, efficiently and with ease.

How to count bars rest accurately and keep your focus even when there are distractions.
And probably most confusing of all: how to interpret the conductor’s beat and where to play in relation to it and the other sections.

If you would like to ask questions or take part in this forum please email me via my website.
https://tonyalcock.co.uk/