A Player’s Thoughts on Thomas Flippin’s

“14 Études on the Music of Black Americans”

Likely you’ve come to this essay after hearing my complete recording of guitarist and composer Thomas Flippin’s “14 Études on the Music of Black Americans.” If so, that’s exactly the goal of my recording: to call attention to these fine works. Perhaps you’re now curious to read a player’s perspective, and maybe even play them yourself. Of course, it’s natural to feel some trepidation. After all, these works are still fresh on the vine as I write this essay. They don’t have the extensive performance history of more established repertoire—for example, Leo Brouwer’s “Estudios Sencillos.” So I offer here some thoughts on performing these pieces.

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 Before jumping in, I offer three general observations about this collection:

1) For some of the 14 études, the composer also offers simplified versions. But he asks that, when feasible, the advanced versions should be played. In my complete recording, I’ve honored this request. He also suggests that the performer can sing the original melody before playing each piece. On this, I must decline. (Trust me, you really don’t want to hear me sing.)

2) Though these pieces are billed as études, the composer isn’t doctrinaire about the technical purpose of each piece. He clearly put musical considerations first, responding to the emotional meaning of each melody. We players should respond in kind.

3) The composer has a knack for writing bass lines that move with a clear direction and purpose. (Johannes Brahms once said he could judge a composer by the quality of his bass lines.) So bear this in mind, particularly with the more ambitious pieces.

1) Oh Mother Glasco

2) The Sin-Sick Soul

The first two études in this collection are arranged as guitar trios. Both are in drop D tuning, making them convenient to play as a set. “Oh Mother Glasco” begins and ends with a gently rocking passage, befitting its status as a serene lullaby. The soothing melody offers ample scope for the first guitar to sing. Guitar 2 should be alert to its subtle imitation of guitar 1 in mm. 13-14:

And guitar 3 shouldn’t be lulled into complacency—its bass notes conjure a deep well of stillness on which the other parts float. All in all, this piece seems most effective when played simply and tenderly, without hammy effects.

“The Sin-Sick Soul” is an eerie contrast to its predecessor. Built atop an obsessively repeating bass line, its ominous air seems best suited to an inexorable gait. Guitars 1 and 2 should give special care to the antiphonal voicing of mm. 6-8 and mm. 22-24, explicitly notated by the composer:

Done well, it’s a haunting effect. (In a live performance, consider having guitars 1 and 2 flanking guitar 3. This makes the back and forth interplay easier for the audience to catch.)

In both trios, the composer marks “divisi” in some guitar 2 passages. This marking is more familiar to orchestral players than guitarists. It means that when this trio is played by a larger ensemble, the double stopped notes in guitar 2 can be evenly divided among however many players are doing this part.

A suggestion. Although composed as a trio, “Oh Mother Glasco” can be played as a duo—parts 2 and 3 easily can be played on one guitar. (In fact, that’s how I recorded it.)

3) Don’t You Let Nobody Turn You ‘Round

This is a bare bones arrangement: just a melody and bass. It aligns with the composer’s intent to keep roughly half of the 14 pieces within the grasp of students. This étude, however, has its challenges. Note all the rests the composer has written. Don’t ignore them, which would let notes ring willy-nilly beyond their notated durations. Faithfully observing the rests makes this piece more vibrant. Yes, it’s harder to do. But it’s worth the effort.

The quarter note triplets in mm. 14-15 are another challenge:

Not many first year students can clap three equal pulses while tapping their foot twice. (Musicians call this a 3 against 2 polyrhythm.) If you find this difficult, try instead tapping your foot twice per measure—on beats 1 and 3—rather than four times, as you normally do in 4/4 time. Done thus, you’ll now be clapping three equal pulses within one foot tap, which is easier than clapping three equal pulses across two foot taps. For example. m. 14 has three quarter note triplets on the first foot tap, and two regular eighth notes on the second foot tap. Keep your foot taps consistently equal to each other, and practice three equal hand claps on foot tap 1 and two equal hand claps on foot tap 2. This should be easy enough. When you’ve mastered it, you can integrate it into your practice of the entire piece. Tap your foot four times in normal measures, and two times in measures that have the quarter note triplets. Just be sure that, whether you’re tapping four times or two, the total length of each measure is identical. Practicing with a metronome is a good way to ensure this.

4) Religion So Sweet

Again, this is just a melody and bass. But it’s different from the piece before. There are fewer rests, which give a smoother sound to this piece. Don’t neglect, however, the few rests that are notated—they ensure that notes on one open bass string aren’t fighting against over-rings from another open bass note. In fact, when you go from one open bass string to another, be sure to damp the note from the string you just left. For example, consider mm. 6-7:

You don’t want the A from m. 6 to slop into m. 7, and you don’t want the D in the second beat of m. 7 to slop over the E in the third beat. In both these spots, I’ve written an X followed by a string number—these tell you to damp the string to mute the note you no longer want. Guitarists typically do this with their right hand thumb.

You’ll also see that this étude puts the melody high up on the fingerboard. There are good reasons for this. First, it enables you to minimize left hand shifts—you can reach more notes within a single left hand position. (Guitarists sometimes refer to this as “playing within a box.”) Further, it offers a mellower tone color than playing lower on the fingerboard. And finally, you’ll find vibrato to be more effective in this higher position.

5) Poor Rosy

This étude introduces the p, i, m arpeggio. The bass line is the melody, the other notes are the accompaniment. You’ll notice the composer keeps the accompaniment on open strings throughout. This frees your left hand to commit itself entirely to the melody. So by all means, use anything you can—portamento, vibrato, articulation—to make the bass line sound more like a singer.

This is a good time to point out a notational quirk composers sometimes use. Notice the final two measures:

You’ll see ties that don’t connect to a following note. The formal name for these is laissez vibrer ties. English speaking musicians variously call them hanging ties, indefinite ties, or open ended ties. (I’ve nicknamed them “ties to nowhere.”) Notes marked in this way are to be allowed to sound past their notated value—their duration is left to the player’s discretion.

6) Rise, Shine, For Thy Light Is A-Coming

This étude exploits a drone bass line on the bottom three open strings. The drone bass has long been popular among plucked instruments, and many guitarists of today cut their teeth on it with the popular renaissance dance “La Volta” by Michael Praetorius. But here, the composer repurposes this drone to a gentle rocking effect, which aptly suits this exquisite little lullaby.

In mm. 32-36, here’s something worth noting:

The composer explicitly wants the melody notes on ③. This makes sense. It’s a mellower sound and vibrato is especially effective on this string. But notice also that he wants the melody notes done with the same left hand finger. It’s not immediately obvious why. A creative player, however, might intuit the composer’s intent. My guess is that he wants the player to subtly glide from note to note. Not an overt glissando—had he wanted this, he’d have asked for it. (As he did in Étude 9.) Rather, it’s just a touch of portamento that fluidly connects the melody notes.

One more thing. The composer’s original begins thus:

I’ve elected to begin thus:

This sets up a tranquil murmur of the bass before the melody enters. My change, however, raises an ethical question: what fealty does a player owe the composer? There are players who believe their role is to faithfully pursue the composer’s intent. This implies, of course, doing nothing more than what the composer has written. I respect this belief. (A favorite pianist of mine, Sviatoslav Richter, insisted he only played what was in the sheet music.) But I’m a meddler, and my performances inevitably reflect that. So I do what I do. Others can decide if it’s acceptable.

7) What Shall I Do?

This étude works the a, m, i arpeggio. As in “Poor Rosy,” the melody is in the bass. But now the accompaniment requires one left hand finger that never moves, and occasionally another finger as well. This means that, unlike “Poor Rosy,” your left hand isn’t as free to sing the melody. At m. 27 you’ll see the term “loco.” What does it mean? Well, look back at m. 17—here we’re directed to play ponticello (right hand plucking near the bridge, for a bright and metallic effect.) So the “loco” at m. 27 means to revert back to normal playing.

8) I Feel Like My Time Ain’t Long

With this étude, we leave behind the easier student oriented works. The last seven of this set are more ambitious arrangements, suitable for recital performance. “I Feel Like My Time Ain’t Long” takes us all over the fingerboard. Though based on a recurring right hand pattern, you shouldn’t treat it as a brisk finger exercise. The composer has marked it “larghetto,” which is a rather slow tempo. The “sostenuto” marking implies a broad and sustained feel, letting the tempo ebb and flow as the melody soars above the accompaniment.

9) The Old Ship of Zion

This étude is a joyous affirmation of life—or more accurately, life as it should be. “Scherzando” means playful and light-hearted. Be sure to heed the rests and articulation marks. They underscore the rhythmic vitality. Otherwise, don’t overthink it. This is a pure romp, and should be played as such.

10) In The Mansions Above

This étude is deceptive. The A section’s changing time signatures imply something knotty and difficult. But really, this piece is refreshingly artless. Though the 10/8 and 8/8 meters seem arcane, the composer has helpfully beamed the notes to suggest their proper accent patterns:

The B section stays firmly in 4/4 time. Here the composer wisely pares down the texture, letting the resolute melody carry the day. This is one of my favorite parts of the entire set—it makes me smile whenever I hear it.

11) Jesus Won’t You Come By and By?

After the two upbeat major key études, this one is a whole ‘nother animal. Were I to program it with other pieces from this set, I’d be sure to give it proper space to weave its magic. In my recording, I put more silence around it, and also hold the first note longer than its strict value. All this, I hope, sharpens the listener’s attention. Indeed, I consider this piece to be the emotional center of the entire collection. 

In an e-mail discussion with the composer about this piece, he expressed concern that perhaps he’d maybe gone too far with strange harmonies and dissonances. He needn’t have worried. To my ears, its piquancy reinforces the plaintive hope that permeates this hymn. The composer’s setting cries out for color and every other expressive means available to the guitar.

An aside. The great Russian composer and pianist Sergei Rachmaninoff believed every piece has a culminating point that is its crux. It’s not necessarily the loudest or most overtly dramatic spot. Rather, it’s the point toward which the entire piece seems to gravitate. (There’s a story in which someone praised a performance Rachmaninoff had just given. “But didn’t you hear?” snapped Rachmaninoff, “I missed the point!”) In “Jesus Won’t You Come By and By?” the high A in m. 25 certainly fulfills this idea. Spare no effort to give this note its full emotional weight.

Finally, I confess to making a brief change to the last measure:

I take solace that the composer hasn’t consigned me to hell for such tampering. But had he done so, this is the song I’d take with me as I fell into the abyss.

12) Don’t Be Weary, Traveler

This étude has a thick texture. The A section is in three independent voices, liberally sprinkled with chords of four or five voices. So the challenge is to maintain the smooth flow of each voice. The composer marks only one rolled chord in the A section, implying that he hears this section as a chorale. With this in mind, I prefer to keep rolled chords to a minimum.

This also is the slowest of the 14 études. In my complete recording, it’s the lone piece that exceeds three minutes. Only a brief central allegro interrupts its unrelenting despair. This piece was, for me, a tough nut to crack. I wasn’t convinced I was fully putting it across. Mulling it over, I took as inspiration Schubert’s song “Death and the Maiden.” I make no claim that this model offers any true insight into what the composer himself intended. Rather, I say only that my imaginary narrative implied a purpose that I could expressively fulfill.

13) Wake Up, Jacob

This étude, I suspect, will prove popular with advanced players. It’s also the one piece in my complete recording that requires a caveat. My recording barely reaches a tempo of a dotted quarter = 100. The composer, however, prefers a brisker tempo. My creaky old hands refused to oblige. To my ear, something around 112 hits closer to the mark. (In the right hands, even 120 can work.) I’m not saying my tempo is entirely ineffective. But this piece wants a more light-footed feel than I could muster. And my own technical inadequacies aside, it actually falls well under the hands. Fleeter hands than mine should be able meet the composer’s ideal.

In my recording, I tried to convey the hemiola clearly, distinguishing between measures beamed as two groups of three and those beamed as three groups of two. For example:

The composer, however, isn’t quite so rigid and wouldn’t rule out a less rigorous approach. To him, it’s more important for this piece to take wing.

A warning. At mm. 27-28 the composer writes “Repeat 4x as fade out.” At first I mistook this to mean that after playing mm. 27-28, I should repeat them four more times. I was wrong. The composer wants these measures played a total of four times. So if you’re as clueless as I was, you’re now forewarned. Also, don’t overdo the “meno mosso” marking. The composer doesn’t want this ending to drag.

14) The Downward Road is Crowded

If Étude 12 made me think of Schubert, this one brought to mind the culminating guillotine scene in Charles Dickens’ “A Tale of Two Cities.” To this end, my tempo is implacably rigid, conveying a march of the damned.

Some comments about sound. When recording this piece, I had two broken nails that weren’t quite back to my prefered length. So my overall sound for this recording isn’t what I normally like. Further, my strings were getting old and needed changing. Finally, the repeated chord at the end needs precise care to avoid buzzed notes. Yet despite working hard to get it clean, I opted for a recorded take that buzzes. And I went with my bad nails and worn strings. A brackish sound, I decided, fits what this piece depicts. Hell ain’t pretty.

If you’re wondering how I played the final chord, here’s how I did it:

My extramusical intent should be obvious. Yes, I changed the original notes. But there are times when a good emotional effect outweighs slavish fidelity to the text.

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As should be clear by now, I find these études deeply moving. The historical weight of the original songs combined with the composer’s empathy makes this collection a worthy achievement. It’s a rare privilege to newly encounter a future staple of the guitar repertoire. So I encourage you to get in on the ground floor. Maybe this will inspire you to add your own voice to what I trust will become a rich performance tradition.

To find the sheet music, visit the composer’s website.