Saturday, 7 February 2026

Might get into trouble for this one....or...Why the tuning slide is a really bad idea.

For the player of Irish traditional music on the flute, the recent history, at least since the early 1970s has been dominated by the issue of the suitability of historic instruments in playing this music, and as a corollary, the development of the “Irish Flute” since that period. * 

The history of the flute as an instrument used in Irish traditional music is comparatively short, and, it has been argued, entered the fray via military fife bands, initially as local fife bands sometimes associated with social and political movements such as the temperance movement from the late 1830s, and later the Land League.

Although it’s difficult to say whether concert pitch flutes were used to play Irish dance music at an earlier period, it would seem likely that, given the very widespread popularity of the flute in society as a whole, that it was used to some extent. It’s not until we have hard evidence in the form of photographs that we can really say anything about the flutes that traditional players were using, and this moves the goal posts to the early years of the 20th century.

There are not many such photographs, but so far without exception they show players with what are known in Ireland as “German flutes”, not to be confused with the earlier general English language use of the term to mean manifestations of the simple system flute in Western music as in the various collections of music published as “arranged for the Violin, German flute and hautboy

These flutes were generally produced in areas of eastern Germany and what is now Czechia, such as Saxony and Bohemia, and also in considerable quantity in America. The use of the term German flute, is in the last few years being replaced by “Nach Meyer” (in the style of Meyer) after one of the most prolific, and better, makers of this sort of flute.

They can be characterised as simple system flutes, usually but not exclusively in African blackwood, with eight or occasionally more nickel silver keys mounted between posts screwed directly into the body of the flute. They were factory produced instruments, and were not expensive, and I believe this is one of the factors, combined with a high rate of Irish emigration to the U.S. that lead to their popularity among Irish players.                                                                              Move forward fifty years, and there is quite a radical change in the type of flute that Irish players were playing or aspiring to play. When I began to play in the early 1970s most accomplished players were using English eight keyed flutes, and Rudall & Rose were already being mooted as among the better makers. Again to some extent, patterns of Irish emigration, which in the years of the Second World War and afterwards had switched largely from the the US to the UK, are an important factor.


It’s necessary at this point to take a detour into the divergent history of pitch in England in contrast to continental Europe. Without getting bogged down in detail, and perhaps a little simplistically, English flute design moves towards wider bores, larger finger holes, and sharper pitch, so that by mid 19th c. A is around 450hz. In continental Europe, bores remain much as they were, finger holes smaller and more evenly sized, and A is around 430hz., and the German flutes that we see in the hands of early 20th c. Irish players are very much part of that tradition.

So what inspired Irish players to move away from German and towards English flutes, especially given that the continental instruments were closer, in many cases much closer, in pitch to A440, that was now the standard? In essence they were choosing instruments whose ideal pitch was considerably above 440, and whose scale, to be in tune, relied on key vented fingerings with which Irish players weren’t familiar.

The answer I think, lies almost entirely in the aesthetics of tone as perceived by Irish players, combined with the increasing availability of English 8 keyed flutes. Most players, previously used to a small-holed, narrow bored German flute, presented with a typical large-holed larger-bored English flute, would immediately find an instrument that was louder, more responsive, and with a more intense tone. The fact that in order to be playable at 440, the tuning slide had to be extended a long way, did not initially prevent players from gravitating to these instruments in large numbers. Indeed I had this experience myself, when a move from an anonymous German flute to a very fine English eight key by Jordan Wainwright flung open the doors of technical advancement at a time when I was in a rut. (See this post.)

Which brings me to the tuning slide.

With all wind instruments, the length of the vibrating air column, the bore in common parlance, determines the pitch. The longer the bore, the lower the pitch.  At least from the end of the middle ages in Europe, urban centres, certainly those where patronage whether by the church or aristocracy was active, tended to have their own ideas about pitch, and as communications improved musicians moving from place to place found they needed the ability to play at different pitches. Different instruments achieved this in different ways, but flutes, oboes, and to some extent bassoons, used a system of corps de rechange, essentially extra joints of different lengths which shortened or lengthened the bore and hence sharpened or flattened the pitch of the instrument. Many top end flutes from the early 18th c. had up to six upper middle joints giving a range of pitches. These corps de rechange differed in not only being different lengths, but had the finger holes in different positions for each length/pitch.

Towards the end of the century, this system began to be replaced by the tuning slide, which by changing the length of the head also changed the length of the bore and hence the pitch. It might seem that this was a much simpler way of achieving the same thing, but it wasn’t, and here’s why.

 A tuning slide can work very well when the adjustment is small, say up to 5mm (which is why it works well on modern Böhm flutes which are required to play over a very restricted pitch range). More than that, and the problems begin to appear, which are entirely due the fact that moving the slide does not affect all the notes equally.

Think about it...

Let's say the slide is in the closed position, and the distance to the D hole ( that closed by the C# foot key) is 496mm.The distance to the C# hole ( playing all fingers off) is 215.5mm. Opening the slide by 10mm obviously increases both those distances by 10mm, but looked at as a percentage, pulling out the slide 10mm from closed increases the length to the D by 2%, but the length to the B by more than double that, 4.65%. This is fairly close to the oft quoted "1mm change in slide position changes pitch by 1Hz"

The point I'm trying to arrive at here, is that the tuning slide is a really, really poor way of changing the pitch of a simple system cone bore flute over more than a few Hz.  With Böhm flutes, its apparent that they were made to play over a much more restricted range of pitch, so moving the slide 1-2mm is actually an effective way of tuning without overly affecting the scale.                                                                       The introduction of the Patent Head in 1832, by Rudall & Rose, was an attempt to improve the scale when the slide was extended over a large distance. The mechanism allowed the head cork to be moved to a (theoretically) different correct position for each extension of the slide, which indeed improved the tuning of the octaves, but did little to correct the issues of proportionality outlined above.

If we look at the development of the flute during and after the Böhm revolution, one of the interesting responses was from the advocates and makers of the old simple system, who began to modify it in terms of trying to match the tone, volume and tuning of the new design. A good example would be the flutes produced by Abel Sicama, and made by the London maker John Hudson. This addressed some of the more egregious tuning issues, by moving the holes for A and E ( R3 and L3) further down the tube, enlarging them, and controlling them by an open standing key operated by the same fingers, as the new positions and sizes made them unusable without this. This solution went some way to addressing the issues, but although it was taken up by some well-known professional players, notably Sydney Pratten, it eventually morphed into the “Pratten’s Perfected”, essentially the same instrument without the keys for G and D.

It’s essential to realise that the major resistance to the introduction of the Böhm flute, both in England and the continent, was based on the fact that the fingering of the new flute was radically different, and many attempts were made to produce flutes using Böhm’s principles of large equally sized holes in a cylindrical body with tapered head, but which played with a fingering system as close to the simple system as possible. From the Irish player’s point of view, this led to flutes with even larger bores and finger holes, which suited the style of playing that was developing with the revival, the best known being the aforementioned Pratten’s Perfected.

The point I’m trying to make here is that the new cylinder bore flutes, as might be expected, were built to local pitch standards, higher in Britain, lower in continental Europe, but although equipped with a tuning slide, given the nature of the design, this would only work over a very limited range. As far as I can see, this implies that simple system flutes from this period ( the change to Böhm system didn’t happen overnight) were being played at the same pitch, in the case of English 8 keyed, high pitch, despite having a longer tuning slide that ostensibly allowed them to play at a much lower pitch. Why would players of the old system play at a different pitch from players of the new system? ( there is an argument that suggests that they were playing different music which I might follow up at another stage.) I think this only reinforces the argument that English eight keyed flutes were never intended to play as low as 440. Yes, it’s true that a skilful player using a particular embouchure, can play such flutes at 440, but back in the day who would they be playing with since presumably everyone else was playing at a higher pitch? Note that contemporary tutors describe embouchure techniques for these flutes  which do not favour flattening the pitch

So backing out of the rabbit hole...and bringing me to why I'm writing this post in the first place.

My first "good" flute, well, the first one I owned, was Rudall Rose & Carte #6318, which I bought from Paul Davies in 1977 or ‘78 for £150. This I played for very many years, even after I was making flutes on my own account. I eventually reluctantly retired it ( from public performance at any rate), for the reasons outlined above, by which stage I was extending the tuning slide by 35mm to get to 440, and I was playing in situations where the internal tuning was causing lots of problems.

Given this, I had of course noticed that with the slide fully closed this flute played almost in Eb, and in fact I made several Eb flutes based on a slight contraction of its dimensions, which were very successful. ( Ireland in the 80s saw a huge craze for playing in Eb)                                                                                                           Note I said almost in Eb, for even with the slide fully closed it was still about 10 cents flat.

A couple of years ago, I bought Rudall Carte & Co. 7183, which was added to the pile of flutes waiting to be restored. I had of course roughly made it playable when it arrived, but it was quite disappointing in terms of tone and response, which I put down to some minor leak that wasn't initially obvious. One thing I did notice, though, was that it was very sharp in pitch, playing only slightly flat of Eb with the slide fully closed. Looking at the flute again, I felt that perhaps someone had tried to shorten the head to bring the pitch up.

I began to wonder was there a possibility of modifying this flute to a true Eb pitch.

The flute itself was actually in very good condition. There was a crack in the barrel, and the barrel liner was excessively loose, so much so that someone had taken it out, and wrapped thread around it to try and secure it in place.                                Standard repair here, liner taken out, crack clamped closed, liner refitted and glued in place. Otherwise, joints and pads, a new head cork, and a replacement "knob" on the end of the screw cork mechanism, and I was all done. Most unusually, although apparently a cocus wood instrument, 7183 is in fact in Platymiscium...apart from the foot, which is cocus. ( see my post on FHC  16/01/26) on this point)

What I was left with was a very fine Rudall Carte & Co. flute, which to be brutally honest was of little use to a modern player for music of any type.

As discussed above, pitch and scale are the sole reasons for this. The flute plays beautifully with the fine tone and response that would be expected from top end makers.

So after careful consideration, I decided to convert the flute to a different pitch, and given that, from the trad player's point of view it's much closer to Eb than D, that's where I headed.

Of course it's not simply a matter of raising the pitch by shortening the tube. although that is an important aspect and in fact the starting point. But shorten it to what pitch centre? The most practical place to shorten the bore is in the head, and as we've seen this will affect the pitch of the upper notes to a greater extent than the lower. Given that Irish music is largely in the keys of D and G, their relative minors, and modal forms, I've always tuned to G rather than A, and with old flutes this makes even more sense in that the A tends to be one of the sharper notes in the scale.

So first move was to shorten the head at the tuning slide, taking off the ring, and replacing it when enough had been removed. Here's a comparison between the shortened head and that of #7103. (7103 on the bottom)


The difference in the distance from the end of the barrel/top of the body to the embouchure centre is 3.5mm

I aimed for a G ( in reality a G#) with the tuning slide extended by about 5 mm. That achieved, the scale had to be addressed, and it must pointed out here that we're aiming at a scale which will be in tune when played with sequential or "whistle fingering", not using any key venting which would give a much more in tune scale, and to be fair was the way these flutes were intended to be played. For the trad player using whistle fingering the scale has standardly the following features (Assuming the G is tuned to the sought pitch centre). What you'll find is: a flat bottom end, from the trad players perspective the D and F# being the worst notes, the G is in tune, and the A and B are sharp.

So how can this be corrected? The pitch that a fingerhole gives when opened depends on two factors...its size, and its position on the tube, and so since moving the holes is a possible but not practical option, changing their size is what's left.

Up until about 1815 the six open fingerholes of the simple system flute were small and not very different in size (as they remained in continental Europe). The move towards a louder flute with a more intense tone saw an increase in the size of the fingerholes, particularly those from G downwards, and from the point of view of someone using whistle fingering, an increasingly out of tune scale. And yet, trad players prefer the large holed flutes and are (were) prepared to sacrifice tuning for tone and volume.

The move to new "Irish Flutes" beginning in the 1980s and now just about complete, has completely changed the market for old simple system flutes in that demand from trad players for such instruments has essentially collapsed. Top end old flutes were changing hands for up to £6000 (about an eye watering €17,000 in today's money). Nowadays the interest from trad players for old flutes is still there but at a severely reduced, almost curiosity level, and quality instruments (pre-restoration) can be had for in the region of £2000 stg. As a consequence of this, there is a considerable quantity of good old flutes, which are no longer being played, because being pitched somewhere between D and Eb they can play in neither.

Hence the decision to attempt a conversion of Rudall Carte & Co. #7183, made in 1897, to an instrument that played at Eb pitch with a good internal scale.             As I said, I suspect that the head of this flute may already have been shortened slightly, so I won't quote its sounding length, but that of R,C & Co. # 6989 from about 10 years earlier, which is 565.5mm, exactly as is #7103, so I think it's safe to assume that #7183 was also 565.5. Compare this with R & R # 3701 from around 1837 which has a sounding length of 578.5mm, and with R & R  #1376 (made 1830) with s.l. a huge 578.5!

So Eb seemed to be a more achievable target.

In general, and perhaps simplistically, the scale of the English 19th c. simple system flute can be looked at as having a flat right hand, and a sharp left hand, so it's a question of either making the holes on the left hand smaller, or those on the right hand bigger. Neither is in fact ideal, making small holes smaller reduces the volume and tone, and making big holes bigger makes them harder to control. Doing either may affect the tonal/volume balance between the hands.

I went with the big holes bigger approach.

I should point out here that of course all the holes can't be easily made larger. In the case of the flat D, this would entail removing the strike plate of the C# hole, enlarging it, and making a new strike plate and pewter. Doable, but hardly practical, and in many cases the size of this hole approaches the bore diameter, zsi it can't be enlarged. In this case, I addressed the flat D (and in fact C# and D) by judiciously shortening the right hand joint and tenon from 115mm to 113.5mm. I stress judiciously, since I'm sure I'm not the first person to discover that over-shortening the right hand joint can bring the C# and C touches so close to R3 as to not only make them unusable, but to radically interfere with the action of R3. Even at 1.5 mm I had to trim a little off the top edge of the C #and C touches to make the R3 action comfortable.

This left the E and F# still flat, and those two holes were carefully enlarged, aiming for an in-tune scale. 




I say aiming advisedly, since it's just about impossible to have a perfect scale on a cone-bore simple system flute. A functional scale might be a better term.

So did it work? See what your ears say...you'l have to follow this link to my YouTube channel, as blogspot say the video is too long.

Sometimes the case can take more work than the flute, in this case a lot. Below is what the case looked like. It's now the case that you see in the first photo.




Next project? Let's see if we can make some of these wonderful 19th C. instruments playable at A440 with the aid of 18th C. technology...the corps de rechange.

Rudall Carte & Co. #7183 will be for sale shortly. You can contact me by any of the usual methods - smoke signals, carrier pigeon etc.




* The term "Irish Flute" is now commonly applied to any simple system wooden flute. The original meaning I proposed in "The Irish Flute Player's handbook" (1st ed. 1990) was much more restricted. It was intended to describe newly made simple system wooden flutes which had been modified in pitch and scale to play well at 440. It has escaped out of its box...too late now!







Thursday, 11 December 2025

William Hall & Son...and more Platymiscium.

 I've always held American flutes from the early to mid 19th century in the highest regard, and a few really nice ones have passed through my hands, most recently this fine example by William Hall & Son



The stamp reads...
WILLIAM HALL & SON
239 BROADWAY
N YORK

... and it is hard to read, the impression being very light, this image being the best I can come up with even with photoshop.


The NLI entry indicates that he was possibly an apprentice of Meacham, and worked for Riley along with Firth, with whom he had a partnership, and also with Pond, as Firth Hall & Pond, in New York and later Litchfield CT between 1833 and 67. In 1847 he set up independently with his son James. He seems to have moved his workshop around quite a bit, and he was at the 239 Broadway address at three separate periods between 1848 and 58.

The flute is in really excellent condition, and only required new lapping on the joints, and new pads, to instantly play easily and beautifully down to the low C.

It did require a little surface cleaning, not unusually, but what the cleaning revealed was interesting...that the flute is not cocus, as I superficially suspected, but rather Platymiscium, making it only the second Amercian flute that I'm sure is made from this timber. ( see this blogpost )

Sometimes it is possible to convey how Platymiscium actually differs from Cocus by photography, but in the vast majority of cases, I rely on having the instrument in my hand to make the distinction. I'll come back to that, but for the moment here are some other images, displaying elements of very tasty, and in some cases perhaps, unique workmanship.

The keys for example are of a common kind with a shallow cup, and the key shaft brought to a point and tapered down to a thickness a little smaller than the cup depth. 



It was only when I was re-padding and had removed the old pads and shellac, that I realised that the shafts were in fact riveted to the cups...



...a most unusual arrangement, which I have to admit to never seeing before, and all the keys were assembled in this way.



If you look carefully at the second photo in the sequence, you can see the distinct absence of solder in the gap between the shaft and the cup. This now makes me think...were in fact other similar keys by American makers also constructed like this, and I didn't just look hard enough? Comments welcome from those familiar with American 19th century flutes.

Blocks and seatings are neatly made with beautiful curved sides to the blocks





Unusually, the blocks on the foot joint for C and C#, and the short F also have curved sides, something again is rarely seen, but I have seen it on an American flute before...in fact the very Rönnberg referred to above.




And of course that Rönnberg was also made from Platymiscium, a wood which Rönnberg himself seemed to identify with what he called Grenadilla [see this blog post].
Although earlier I claimed that it's hard to distinguish Platymiscium from other timbers photographically, the very large size of the vessels, which is characteristic and normally observable on the end grain, can sometimes be noticed as a much coarser "grain" than is found with cocus. This can be seen in the two photos of the seatings above, but is clearly noticeable in this image.



It was only after I had noted the similarities with the Rönnberg flute that I re-read the "Rönnberg Continued" post and realised that he had in fact worked for Firth & Hall, before setting up for himself.                                                  There's surely a possibility that Rönnberg had a hand in the making of this flute. I'd be interested to find out if anyother Rönnberg flutes have riveted key cups.














Sunday, 6 July 2025

Sneaky Leaks and Wonderful Workmanship

I've been recently working on Rudall & Rose 3411, and it revealed a few things that even an experienced restorer might miss.

This flute is in essence a standard instrument of the period, cocus, 8 silver keys, repaired crack in the head (through the embouchure)

One aspect is unusual though. Note that the low C# and C keys, which on R & R flutes are almost exclusively pewter plugs, are here padded cups.




More on that later.

This flute was in generally very good condition, and not only that, it was clear that the work done on the flute was of a high standard. The head crack was beautifully repaired, except that it had failed to return the embouchure to its original shape, as the crack had just been filled, with no attempt to close it. Unusually, the crack had been filled with dark coloured shellac, something that I've never seen before, and even though there was no pinning of any sort, it had remained very stable. There were a couple of other minor and totally resolvable issues, a poorly reattached half of the G# block, and standard padding and joint problems.

The flute, even with the slightly distorted embouchure played quite well, but it was decided to try and resolve the distorted embouchure, by the standard method of pulling the head liner, clamping the crack closed, re-reaming to re-admit the liner, and glueing it in place with epoxy.  This done, the embouchure distortion was still evident, and playability had not improved.

I decided to check for other factors that might be affecting this. One the most commonly missed, although easily found (if that makes sense) problems, is what I've come to call a "Fitzharris" leak.* In essence this is caused by air being able to pass between the head liner and the wood of the head, the air entering this gap when the player blows across/into the embouchure. What makes this type of leak so insidious, is that the effects are very subtle, and it's not easy to detect by the usual methods such as the blow/suck test. In fact in many cases, even a Magnahelic leak detector will not show it.

The only reliable way to detect these leaks should be evident from watching the video here...much easier than trying to explain in words.






Finding the leak is one thing. Doing something about it is another. As with all leaks this involves physically preventing the passage of air from the bore to the outside, but in this case the location of where the leak reaches the outside, essentially at the bottom of the recess into which the protruding barrel liner goes when the slide is closed, makes resolving it a far from simple proposition.

On occasions, it is possible to solve a leak like this by blocking it at the embouchure, particularly where a gap between the liner and the wood can be seen at this point. The idea here is to use low viscosity CA glue and let it wick into the gap. It has to be said that this only works very occasionally.

Otherwise, the idea is to use essentially the same technique to block the leak from inside, the difficulty here being how to get the "blocking agent" to the site of the leak. Here is not the place to describe how this can be done in great detail, suffice to say that access to the bottom of the recess is of overriding importance.

In the case of  R & R #3411 I'm fairly certain that the Fitzharris leak was exacerbated by the crack through the embouchure. Think about it. A crack goes all the way through the wall of the flute. In an attempt at repair, the crack is filled from the outside, but if this is done with a material of too great a viscosity, even if the crack has been pinned, there is every chance of leaving a channel for air to pass between the head liner and the wood of the head at the bottom of the crack.

As I had decided in this case to re-do the crack repair, I had hoped that this in itself would solve the leak, but it was not to be the case. However, I did manage to seal the Fitzharris leak. 

The result of this was disappointing. The flute played marginally better, but certainly not to the level to which I knew it was capable, so now I began to check the whole flute for other issues.

The title of this post implies that there's more to look at here than leaks, and in fact it was in admiring some of the great workmanship on this flute that I came across another unusual problem, the solution of which went a long way to finally getting the instrument back to its full potential.                                                                       I had removed a couple of the double springs to deal with a little rust and dirt that had accumulated around them, and noticed that instead of the normal flat surface underneath the double spring, that whoever was keying the flute...stringing it in flute maker's parlance...had left the spring protrude over a little shelf or step, about 0.2-0.3mm in depth, which formed a fulcrum over which the spring could flex, the idea being, I presume, to make the action of the spring more precise.



 




Note from this image, that the springs are held in place with tiny screws, and of course holes must be drilled in the flute body to receive the screw, which is what we would call nowadays a self tapper.

Having solved the leak in the head, without any great improvement in playability as noted above, I began to look for other sources of leaks, using the Magnahelic leak detector. This device allows the user to detect very small changes in pressure, such as would result from a leaking key for example. I promise that I'll shortly do a post about this type of leak detector, how it works, and how to make one, but for the moment suffice to know that the gauge reads effectively zero if the output of air from it is blocked, as in a closed tube or a non leaking flute, and around 6-7 on an open tube or a badly leaking flute. Interim figures show a flute that is leaking to various degrees. Imagine my surprise then, when I checked the left hand ( upper middle) joint of the flute, and got a figure of 6 on the gauge! Pressing the keys down individually, which will often show which one is leaking had no effect. The keys were removed, and holes sealed with plasticene...and the gauge still read 6. Remember this was a flute that was playing down to the low C,  admittedly not very strongly. Cue some serious head scratching.

There are two other potential sources of leaks, which although rare, and most often found on low quality instruments, I have encountered before. Both of these involve what are supposed to be blind holes, i.e. they don't reach the bore. The first of these is the small hole you can see in the photo here.



This hole holds the small cork bumper which prevents the key clicking against the body of the flute, and is usually situated under the spring rivet. It's normally about 2.5mm in diameter. I've on occasions come across one of these holes which has been drilled too deeply, but given the size of the hole this usually produces a very obvious leak. This needed to be eliminated though, so Plasticene was again employed to seal these holes (the bumpers themselves having been removed) but to no avail - still 6 on the gauge. It was only after I had removed the double springs that I thought of the little holes for the screws holding them in place. Sometimes it's possible to see where a hole like this penetrates the bore simply by looking up the bore against a bright light, when the hole can be seen as a small dark spot against the polished surface, but not in this case. So I tried probing the spring screw holes with a needle, and although the G# was fine, the Bb screw hole allowed the needle point to pass into the bore.                                                                                      

Was this my leak? A small nubbin of Plasticene was soon applied, this time to great effect. I had a different flute in my hand.

Sealing this leak permanently was simply a matter of introducing some CA glue into the hole, Not to the extent that the hole was completely "filled in", letting it harden, and reattaching the double spring with the original screw.

Finally, even though sorting all the non too obvious leaks, had improved the flute immensely, I decided to bush the embouchure, which I did with some nice black horn from our local buffalo herd. This was the final improvement...the flute was back to its wonderful best.

One final observation.

Although there is at least one other flute by Rudall & Rose ( # 1418 ) that has padded C and C# keys, this one, in contrast to #1418 has obviously been modified from original pewter plugs. Here's an image of #1418, where you can clearly see the machined pad seatings under the C and C#.



What I found interesting is that this conversion of the striker plates to accept pads on #3411 has been done in a very sophisticated way. Have a look at this image...



The original striker plate was completely flat, and the seal, when closed, was formed by the taper ( normally 60 deg. ) on the pewter plug, fitting into the similar taper on the striker plate. You can see in the image, that in order to form seating suitable for a pad, that the striker plate has been machined to produce a raised edge that will form the necessary impression on the pad. Note also, that though the screws which hold the striker plate in place impinge on the machined surface, they must have been removed before the seating was machined, and replaced afterwards. It's beautifully done.

I think it came out well.

* Flute virtuoso Tommy Fitzharris came to me with several flutes that had this problem. He figured out this way of demonstrating it. Remarkably, it requires quite a bit of blowing pressure to produce the bubbles, much more than the blowing pressure when playing. Something strange is going on acoustically here.




Thursday, 2 January 2025

25 Villiers St.



Attention given to the English 19th century simple system flute, has been to a great extent dominated by the firm of Rudall & Rose, and their later manifestations as Rudall, Rose & Carte, and finally Rudall Carte. (for all interested in this area, Robert Bigio's "Rudall Carte and the Art of the Flute in England" is required reading.)

There is of course, very good reason for this. Their flutes were superbly made, and as astute businessmen they remained at the head of the market from their founding in 1821 until the early 20th century. Along with the great deal of interest that collectors in modern times have shown in these instruments, and the very large number of instruments that they made, and the fact that they successfully navigated the new world of the Böhm flute, their dominance becomes less surprising and thus no surprise that some of the other makers have been ignored or neglected.

In a previous post I talked about how George Rudall set up in business in 1821 with the Scottish maker John Rose, and how before this date, as a teacher, he had flutes made for his pupils by John Willis who was one of the most important and best makers in early 19th century England. At that time I also speculated as to why George Rudall had then begun to have his flutes made by John Rose, who at the time was an unknown maker. With a little more thought I might have realised that John Willis' dates might have given a clue. Born in 1782, he died at the early age of 41 in 1823. Was it possible that Rudall was aware of Willis' potential health problems at this time? Arguing against this is the fact that the Willis workshop continued to produce flutes of the highest quality after John Willis died.

Among which, is the flute that's the topic of this post, belonging to Garry Walsh, who has kindly allowed me to feature it here.



An experienced eye would immediately place this instrument in the same group as those that Willis made for George Rudall.  The overall lines, and particularly the silver sheathed cap and foot end are characteristic. With this one though we can be sure that it is a Villiers St. product. 
But the stamp initially suggests otherwise...


...as it clearly reads.

FENTUM
78 STRAND
LONDON
1240

The mark above though, is revelatory. This is the "Villiers St. lyre" which appears on very many flutes made in the Villiers St. workshop. Not all flutes made at no. 25 have this stamp, but all that have it were made there.

The attribution to Villiers St. is, in this case, easily confirmed by the stamp on the foot which gives the game away by confirming that not only was it made in Villiers St., but was made by Willis & Goodlad.
Although it is not in the least unusual to have a flute purportedly made by one maker in reality to have been made by another, it is unusual to have both "makers"
full names and workshop addresses on the same flute.
As in the case of the flutes  made by Willis for George Rudall, the Willis stamp appears only on the foot.



In this case the stamp is that of Willis and Goodlad whose dates are 1825-1834.

The patent stamp? I have to say I've no idea to what patent it might refer. The whole area of flute patents in the 19th century requires research.  Patent stamps appear to have been thrown around like snuff at a wake in 19th century London.

As might very well be expected, this flute is a wonderful player, responsive, with a particularly rich tone, excellent volume, and courtesy of the small holes, accurate internal tuning.

The work I carried out was simply to replace the crown and screw cork which had been replaced by a domed monstrosity.

...and in case you were wondering, the Google Maps screenshot at the top, shows the very central location of 25 Villiers St. (red pin).
It's now a Prêt à Manger, and I'm beginning to wonder if there's some pattern here..
Dollard's old premises in central Dublin is now a pizzeria.




Monday, 15 April 2024

Rönnberg continued

 As I referenced in the last post, William Rönnberg is a very well documented maker largely due to an interview which he gave to Baldwin's Musical Review in 1879. I don't believe any other maker has spoken in such detail about their work, and from as many different aspects.

In looking around at what Rönnberg flutes were in collections, it became clear that not only did he make a wide variety of woodwinds, but certainly in the case of his flutes, and particularly before he began to concentrate on Böhm flutes, no two of his flutes appear to be similar. 

Here's a list of links to what appears to be in public collections, and also a couple that were, or are, for sale.


1/ What appears to be a rather fancy flute with a B foot. They claim that it's "clad in tortoiseshell", but I wonder is it just stained to resemble tortoiseshell. He was known to stain box wood, to make it resemble other timbers. Have a look here


2/ This one, about as different as you can get from the first, sold recently on eBay. Have a look quickly as these listings don't remain available as long as they used to...See it here



3/ Expand the photo on this one, and it actually looks a bit like tortoiseshell too. I think in this case, that this flute is made from Platymiscium, which can at times have that sort of pattern. Again, distinctly different. Look here

4/ Don't pay too much attention to the blurb with this sale...

5/ 6/ 7/

Finally three from the DCM in Washington DC. The first, DCM 0490 resembles to a large degree 1/ down to the unusual triple trill key.  The final two DCM 0837, and DCM 0051 are examples of his Böhm flutes. He is generally considered more of a maker of Böhm flutes than simple system.

The flute that I wrote about in the last post is in fact the only "standard" 8 key flute by Rönnberg to which I can find any reference.

Following is the full text of the Baldwin's Musical Review article. I apologise for the mixed up line spacing etc. This is due to the fact that you can't export dictated text from Word except as an image. Weird huh?




































Wednesday, 10 April 2024

Rönnberg

 This has to be one of the more interesting flutes I've restored, both in its own essence and structure, and how it came to me.

Firstly, though, let's look at what we know about the maker, William Rönnberg.

The NLI gives the usual basic information. Here's a screenshot, a bit bendy, but faster than copying it all out:-



In fact Rönnberg was one of the best documented of makers, and that through his own words. More of that later, but for the moment onto the flute.

A few years ago, I was given the task of clearing out the workshop of a long retired woodwind maker, and selling what was saleable.  Among the 'debris' was a bag of old pieces of flutes, which on first glance appeared to be the sort of thing that all makers have - pieces which are kept in the hopes that they'll be useful someday. They rarely if ever are.

This bag, as is the fate of most such things, ended up in a box, under a bench in my workshop, where it kept company with several other similar bags, and probably a dozen one keyed Bb band flutes, in similar states of disrepair, and which were not even accorded the dignity of being in a bag.

Sometime later...at least a couple of years, if memory serves ( and to be honest, it often doesn't), I had occasion to root in this cornucopia, and again opened the bag, and glanced in. What caught my eye initially was a fully keyed foot. Despite being incredibly dirty, there was something about it that spoke to me, something unusual in the proportions of the keys and blocks.

So on this occasion, I looked at it a bit more closely, which confirmed that it really was quite unlike the English and continental simple system flutes with which I was familiar. I began to look a bit more closely into the bag, and eventually found what could potentially be the other two joints of the body. After consideration though, I decided that the lower middle was from a different flute, but had probably been pressed into use at some point to try and make a playable flute. That joint was a complete wreck, cracked through from end to end, keys missing.

For a day or two, I thought no more about it, but then I began to think that someone had really wanted to keep this flute playing, and maybe there was more of it in the bag. Searching again produced what now appeared to be the correct lower middle, based largely on the style of the keys.( and the style of the dirt! ) Now I had a fairly complete flute, in reasonable condition, importantly with all the keys present. Most importantly, a little cleaning showed that the three joints I now had were stamped RÖNNBERG NEW YORK.

There's a story told about a father who had an extremely optimistic son who wanted a pony for Xmas. The father decided to test his optimism and bought him a big pile of manure which he put under the Xmas tree ( It's a story ). Father comes down on Xmas morning to find the son digging in the manure. Son turns to father and says "There's gotta be a pony here somewhere!"

So when I realised I had all of the flute body, I, too, went digging and came up with a head and barrel which had potential, but which looked wrong  in certain aspects. One thing, though, finally convinced me that the head was right, and that was the type of wood. 

I've spoken in some of my other posts about a type of wood that has been used for flute making a lot more extensively than is generally realised. This wood is from the Platymiscium genus of trees, and I believe it may be the original meaning of grenadilla, before that term came to be used to mean African blackwood. Rönnberg himself had something to say on this matter, which we'll look at later, but for the moment I was happy now to confirm that I now had all five pieces of the original flute.

Here's what it looked like.


One of the things that initially fooled me about the head, was that the original rings had been replaced. I also eventually came to realise that the barrel, although apparently from the same wood was not the original.

Stripping the flute down showed some interesting features. The head was cracked and required the removal of the liner in the course of the repair. This revealed a beautifully even oval in the liner, the result of a very even undercut to the embouchure.


Stripping the dirt and finish from the wood, also confirmed that it was Platymiscium, as it revealed the "chatoyance" ( cat's eye) effect in the grain which is so typical of this wood.


It also revealed the care that Rönnberg took in concealing some small defects in the wood. 

Here he inset a plug to replace a knot
or small grain defect, rather than simpler fill it with shellac as was the common solution.







In close up....
And here a small chip on the shoulder also has a carefully inset piece to build it up.

Interestingly, although this little insert has the grain in the correct orientation, the plug shown above is end grain instead of the more disguiseable side grain. The flute had a heavy shellac finish which effectively made these little repairs invisible. 
Bad and all as the condition of the flute was it was certainly very restorable. The head was the really the main area of concern. Pulling the liner to fix the crack is a standard procedure, and studying and measuring the embouchure, I decided that it had probably been slightly enlarged, albeit neatly enough. I bushed it with horn.




The barrel, although not the original one - as indicated by the fact that the tenon was too short for the barrel socket - I'm inclined to think was a barrel from another Rönnberg flute. The wood was the same, and perhaps what clinched it is that the the fit between the head and barrel liners was precise. Using that tube, I made another barrel from Platymiscium. The rings on head and barrel had to be made anew, matching the existing ones on the lower middle and foot. 
Finally, the whole thing was refinished to match as closely as possible what little of the original finish remained.

Result?



I think it turned out well.

The neatness and attention to detail which I had first noticed on the foot further revealed itself when the flutes was restored. This picture of the foot with keys removed makes it easier to see them.


Note the acutely angled volcano type seatings, which are so smoothly finished. Also, most unusually, the sides of the C# and C cup blocks, are curved, a feature which I had incorporated latterly on my own keyed foot joints, but had never seen on an old flute. Ecclesiastes said it...there is nothing new under the sun. These curved block sides in unusual places are also present on the short F block, again something that I did myself. Maybe I was channeling old William Rönnberg!


Other nice details, include the way in which the springs hug the profile of the underside of the key.

Here on the long F


and on the low C#

Finally, two other innovative and rather neat design features, both also on the foot.
Normally, the linkage between the low  C and C# keys relies on the C touch overlapping the C#, so that when the C is pressed, the C # also closes. But on this flute, looking from above the two touches appear to be separate.


Take the keys off and turn them over, and you see what Rönnberg's solution to this was.


He simply extended the spring on the C# under the C touch ensuring that depressing the C closes both keys.
Since the keys are padded, any adjustment need to ensure they close simultaneously is achieved when burning in the pads.

Finally, something which I've never seen on any other flute.


Hard enough to see from the photo, the slots for the C# and C touches, don't run all the way through, but rather curve up to meet to shoulder, meaning that the floor of the slot curves up from the body of the flute to the top of the block.



Of course, a flute is more than an assembly of pieces of wood and silver. What does it sound like? How does it play?
Answer:- 
As you might expect from a flute which was obviously made with such care, it plays very well.
Remember that although dating from at the earliest 1834 (the first date he's listed as being in New York, and the flute bears a New York stamp) the flute has very small holes for the period...at least from an English point of view. From the top down they measure... 7.1, 7.1, 6.5, 7.2, 7.4, 5.5mm
Unusually for a flute with small easily covered holes, the E hole is angled downwards, decreasing the distance between it and the F#.
The sounding length is 591mm again rather long, I would have thought for, such a flute. I will readily admit that my limited knowledge of American flutes doesn't allow me to make a proper comparison. 
Suffice it to say to my admittedly sharp blow, it plays easily at 440 with a very small slide extension.
The internal tuning is also rather good. Here's a read out from the RTTA tuning app which shows that apart from the flat F# ( here played as 1234, and not in the vented fingering 1234 with either F key open which would bring it into pitch) and a slightly flat D, also standard, the tuning is excellent. In fact I've rarely seen one as good.






All in all a very interesting and unusual flute.

I referred above to the fact that Rönnberg was well documented as a maker, and this is due to an article which was published in "Baldwin's Musical Review" in 1879. (Vol 14, no 3, pp6, 7Sept. 1879)
This is a detailed interview in which Rönnberg talks about his life and work in considerable detail, and rather than quote from it to illustrate some of the points in this post, I've decided to give it in full in the next blog, along with a discussion of the various other flutes that are known from this maker.