What are percussion’s most exciting and precarious orchestral moments? Amanda Holloway talks to ten players about the bars that get their hearts pumping
Memorable moments for orchestral instruments such as violins or trumpets are ten a penny. Yet the percussion section, that varied and virtuoso group of musicians occupying the back rows of a symphony orchestra, is often relegated by composers to a much more supporting role.
The odd timpani bash, for instance, or the shake of a tambourine. But you don’t have to delve far to discover that this assortment of instruments, from the booming bass drum to the tinkling triangle, has been assigned some of the most stirring and heart-stopping moments in all classical music.
We’ve put together a list of percussion’s greatest passages – long and spectacularly short – and asked ten leading orchestral percussion and timpani players what it’s like to play them. Of course, our list isn’t comprehensive – we could have included anything by Prokofiev, for instance, Wagner’s clanking Ring cycle anvils, the thunderous timpani in Also sprach Zarathustra or even Varèse’s astonishing piece for percussion alone, Ionisation; even, perhaps, the hushed opening of Beethoven’s Violin Concerto that surely sends every timpanist into a spin.
But here are ten passages for each of ten percussion instruments that give a rounded flavour of the challenges our be-sticked friends regularly face.
We’ve included fiendishly tricky parts that are a joy to play when they go well (though not so joyful when they don’t), and there are simple parts that rely on split-second timing for their effect. Now, over to the big hitters themselves…
Greatest percussion moments
Ravel Boléro
Snare drum
Who doesn’t recognise that unmistakeable ostinato rhythm laid down by the snare drum in Ravel’s most famous work? Adrian Spillett, percussion section leader of the CBSO, says there’s a misconception that because you have to play the same rhythm for 15 minutes, it’s difficult.
‘The challenge is the first couple of minutes when it’s super quiet and you have to hold your nerve and control what you’re playing. That moment when the audience goes silent before the conductor gives you the cue to start – it’s remarkably lonely and exposed. When the instruments come in, you then have to adjust to what people are doing around you.
Three-quarters of the way through when you’re playing quite loud, you’re joined by a second snare drummer and it feels like quite a heroic moment. There’s a similar snare drum part in Shostakovich’s Seventh Symphony; in fact it’s probably a little bit harder.’
Mahler Symphony No. 6, Finale
Hammer blows
Controversy rages about the number of hammer blows Mahler intended in his Sixth Symphony – was it two or three? – and whether they symbolised tragedies in his own life (even if the tragedies occurred after the symphony was finished). The actual instrument also varies from orchestra to orchestra. BBC National Orchestra of Wales’s principal percussion Chris Stock, for instance, wields a giant copper mallet with a ten-inch head and a handle the width of a man’s wrist.
But he says the actual blows look a good deal more dramatic than they sound: ‘There’s so much volume in the orchestra already that it’s the show element of it that impresses people.’ Timing the blow is the biggest challenge, particularly if you’re not a weightlifter. ‘The conductor has to match their conducting stroke to you because once you’ve raised the hammer above your head, there’s not much you can do to stop it.’
Shostakovich ‘Polka’ from The Golden Age
Xylophone
On the whole, musicians love playing Shostakovich, but the xylophone part in the Soviet composer’s satirical ballet The Golden Age is a potential nightmare for a percussionist.
‘It’s great fun,’ says David Hext, percussionist with the Hallé, ‘but it’s a piece that got me losing sleep in the build-up. The orchestration is very light – just wind and pizzicato strings accompaniment – and the xylophone is not doubling or reinforcing other instruments so there’s no covering fire.
The tip is to try and get your head around the arpeggios or groups of notes, but that’s hard to do with Shostakovich because the patterns just aren’t there. The Polka isn’t fast but there are lots of awkward leaps of sevenths and ninths and they sow seeds of doubt in your mind. His operas Lady Macbeth of Mtsensk and The Nose have great solos for the xylophone, but I’m quite relieved that I haven’t had to play them.’
Nielsen Symphony No. 4, Allegro
Timpani Battle
The Allegro final movement is renowned for a scrap between two timpanists as they belt out pairs of tritones from opposite sides of the stage. The LPO’s principal timpani Simon Carrington suggests the battle is actually between the timpani and the rest of the orchestra.
‘They’re trying to disrupt the quest for tonality that Nielsen sets up and are finally shouted down with the blazing ending in E major. The two parts together should sound electrifying – menacing and aggressive but not chaotic; to effect that is a challenge when both players are placed so far apart. It can of course degenerate into a brutal fight between the two players – but that’s not my intention.
I’ve loved the piece for many years, but strangely the LPO hasn’t played it since 1960, well before I was born. I’ll be playing it for the first time this season with Edward Gardner.’
Dukas The Sorcerer’s Apprentice
Glockenspiel
Dukas’s symphonic poem, based on a ballad by Goethe, gives the glockenspiel a starring role – adding a silvery, magical quality – but it’s fiendishly difficult to play. Josephine Frieze, percussionist with the Royal Liverpool Philharmonic, is undaunted.
‘The key to playing anything tricky on tuned percussion is that you can’t think about which stick or hand you’re using – you’re on autopilot. It’s very quick, especially the waterfall section with all those descending arpeggios.
The conductor is beating one to a bar, so every bar seems to fly by and you have to know what you’re doing. We use a very old instrument known as the Parsifal bells, which has a beautiful timbre but it’s very resonant, very loud, and you have to play it quietly. I use brass beaters to get that ethereal, watery quality, and I always bear in mind the impish, mischievous quality of the piece.’
Haydn Symphony No. 100, Allegretto
Triangle
Though Haydn’s Symphony No. 100 is known as the ‘Military’, the beating heart of a military band is surely the percussion. The BBC Concert Orchestra’s Alasdair Malloy points out that Haydn springs a surprise on his audience by waiting until the second movement to bring in his ‘Turkish percussion’, (also fashionable in Mozart’s Seraglio and Beethoven’s Choral Symphony) of bass drum, cymbals and triangle.
A Turkish band would have contained a Turkish crescent known as a Jingling Johnny, but Haydn emulates the effect with a triangle. ‘It’s thought of as a pure, sweet, delicate instrument but here it’s exactly the opposite – it’s there to terrify the enemy,’ says Malloy. ‘I like to use a triangle with plenty of overtones which adds to the clamour being made by the bass drum and the cymbals. In my experience, some conductors don’t draw out the terrifying nature of this music enough.’
Copland Fanfare for the Common Man
Tam-tam
Conductor Eugene Goosens commissioned this fanfare for the Cincinnati Symphony Orchestra in 1942 as part of the war effort. Right from the arresting opening by the percussion, Copland creates a sense of awe – but also optimism.
‘The sound he creates suggests vast open spaces and the American dream, encapsulated simply in the timpani, bass drum and tam-tam,’ says Henry Baldwin, Aurora Orchestra’s principal percussion. ‘Rather than a more grounded open fifth, the fourth interval in the timpani gives the music an unresolved expectancy.
As a percussionist, it’s exciting to play – we’re the beating heart of the music – but it can be tricky to get the three instruments together. Players sometimes interpret the conductor’s upbeat differently, so the secret is to pick a lead player and follow their movement.’
Tippett The Rose Lake
Rototoms
One of Tippett’s last and most gorgeous symphonic works, The Rose Lake describes the pink light on Senegal’s Lake Retba using a variety of tuned percussion, including Rototoms. The 35-drum set takes up most of the stage, causing the two percussionists to have to dance around each other to reach their notes.
‘It’s what we call a “stick salad”,’ says Sam Walton, a percussionst with the London Symphony Orchestra. ‘We have to be nimble; in fact I have to wear non-slip concert shoes or I’d be slipping all over the stage.’
Far from originating in Africa, Rototoms were invented by an American drum company in the sixties, and Tippett decided to use them with soft sticks to play a melodic line, along with marimba, vibraphone and xylophone. ‘It’s a gorgeous, atmospheric sound,’ Walton adds, ‘particularly when the Rototoms are doubling with the clarinet in an Arabic-sounding melody. It’s a ground-breaking piece for percussionists.’
Tchaikovsky Symphony No. 4, Allegro con fuoco
Cymbals
At the searing conclusion of his Fate symphony, Tchaikovsky throws in a record number of cymbal clashes per minute. ‘It’s great fun to play,’ says Erika Öhman, percussionist with the Hallé, ‘but it’s quite a workout at the end, controlling huge pieces of metal (they can be thick, 20-inch cymbals) and achieving a clear rhythm when the conductor is moving the tempo forward.
When you play big loud clashes, like the very first note in this last movement, you have to prepare the swing of the cymbals for a fraction of a second before you actually play it. The big clashes are very visual, and I enjoy having that special moment after sitting for most of the symphony with nothing to play. Tchaikovsky writes so well for the cymbals: in Romeo and Juliet we play lots of short staccato notes that represent a sword fight, so you’re adding to the drama.’
Stravinsky The Rite of Spring: Glorification of the Chosen One
Bass drum
At the heart of Stravinsky’s 1913 ballet The Rite of Spring are the primal, thudding rhythms beaten out by the bass drum. ‘More than in other 20th-century scores, the bass drum is a real instrument on its own, not just a complement to the timpani and tam-tam,’ says Emmanuel Curt, the Philharmonia Orchestra’s principal percussion.
‘It has a drier sound which the piece needs to represent the power of the earth. It’s important to play precisely, so I use hard mallets to get that clarity.’ A memorable moment for the percussion section is the ‘Glorification of the Chosen One’ in Part Two.
‘That’s the famous 11 strokes which take you into a new scene; we just want to dance when we play that. And it’s easy to imagine Nijinsky’s ballet.’ It may be a ‘blockbuster’, as Curt calls it, but The Rite of Spring is a favourite for the orchestra too. ‘We’re excited when we see it on the schedule. We feel 20 again!’