Tabuteau’s Influence Beyond Curtis

By Sarah Maude Wetherbee

The most direct manifestation of Tabuteau’s influence on string technique took place during his retirement. In the early sixties, Marc Mostovoy, a young American violinist-violist and conductor, traveled to Nice to study with Tabuteau. While a student at Temple University in Philadelphia, Mostovoy heard about Tabuteau’s musical concepts through one of his friends [Robert Rensch], a French horn player, who studied with Ward Fearn. Fearn had been a colleague of Tabuteau’s in the Philadelphia Orchestra for many years, and based his teaching on Tabuteau’s concepts. Mostovoy became fascinated with the musical concepts his friend was learning, and although he was a string player, began studying with Fearn himself.

Through Fearn, Mostovoy learned that the source of these ideas was Marcel Tabuteau. Mostovoy realized that in addition to its use in string playing, Tabuteau’s method had an obvious application in conducting and traveled to Nice to work directly with Tabuteau.

Mostovoy studied with Tabuteau for three summers. The first year, Tabuteau indoctrinated Mostovoy with all his basic concepts; the second year he elaborated and drove them home; for the third he applied his principles to music of the masters. In addition to playing at his lessons and taking notes, Mostovoy analyzed scores with Tabuteau. At first, Tabuteau acted as a coach. Mostovoy played and Tabuteau would comment and demonstrate.

After some time passed however, they also began talking about directly applying Tabuteau’s concepts to specific aspects of string playing. For example, Mostovoy began to realize that conventional string fingerings seemed to be at odds with the phrasing principles Tabuteau was teaching, so he started experimenting with fingerings that would better match Tabuteau’s musical ideals.

Tabuteau and Mostovoy began working on both left and right hand technique in greater detail. Some aspects of string technique covered by Tabuteau and Mostovoy included changing positions, string crossings, bow distribution, and vibrato. Some simple examples follow:

Changing position: They determined that shifting, like breathing, must be done where it makes the most sense musically—with the phrasing or note groupings, and not where it is simply convenient or where it falls best in the hand. In a passage of dotted figures, for example, shifting after a short note produces a disturbance in the line. Tabuteau, therefore, would advocate shifting after one of the dotted notes. In addition to considering when to shift, the player must also decide how to shift. There are many kinds of shifts at a string player’s disposal. Different shifts are appropriate in different styles of music. There are many considerations. The underlying principal is this: The music always determines the technique and not vice versa.

Changing strings: String crossings, like shifting, can be done either for convenience or for musical reasons. Each string and each position on the string has a unique color. This must be considered when deciding whether to change strings or change position and, of course, where to do it.

Vibrato: Tabuteau felt that vibrato had to come from within the note rather than being superimposed on the note. The player should not have a “one-size-fits-all” vibrato that is applied automatically; rather, vibrato must be in proportion to both the style of the music and the placement of each note within the phrase. Its aim is to ornament and enhance the musical line. Music written during the Classical and Baroque periods, for example, generally requires a smaller, more compact vibrato than music written in the Romantic era. Vibrato can also be a factor in determining the intensity of sound. A faster vibrato creates a sound with more intensity than a slower vibrato.

Bow distribution and placement: Tabuteau used string bowings to illustrate his system of numbers. A progression of numbers is not exactly a crescendo or diminuendo. It is rather a scaling of color. To understand this point, think of the bowing distribution on the violin—in the space between the fingerboard and bridge. With the oboe, the speed of wind and the position of the reed on the lips, are equivalent to the potential on the violin for producing tone color, i.e. the physical life of the notes. Tone color isn’t a static quality; it has energy. Scaling the color is one of the elements that creates units of motion—the life of the music.

Tabuteau used his number system to indicate color among other things. Mostovoy thought that since string players use numbers to indicate fingering, it would be confusing to use numbers elsewhere. Through his work with Tabuteau, Mostovoy translated Tabuteau’s numbers into a set of markings for string players. Mostovoy called these markings his “hieroglyphics.” Some examples include a squiggle for a certain kind of intensity; an arrow pointing up for a lift or ahead for forward motion; a circular loop figure for a certain nuance (loop-de-loop); the letter ‘M’ for a dynamic between mezzo-forte and mezzo-piano, and so forth.

Concerto Soloists Chamber Orchestra

After three summers of intense work with Tabuteau, Mostovoy founded 16 Concerto Soloists (later called Concerto Soloists Chamber Orchestra) for Tabuteau to conduct and as orchestral back-up for his solo playing–as well as for Mostovoy to lead. In addition, a recording project featuring Tabuteau was being planned. Unfortunately, Tabuteau died before he could come back to the states.

Mostovoy filled his orchestra of sixteen (strings and harpsichord) with young musicians, mainly from Curtis, teaching his orchestra to phrase using the system he had learned under Tabuteau’s tutelage. The young musicians were generally receptive to Mostovoy’s demands because, whether they knew it or not, many had already been exposed to some of Tabuteau’s concepts through their Curtis training.

When Mostovoy first started working with the orchestra, he carefully edited the parts, indicating every nuance, requiring many rehearsals to prepare an hour to an hour and fifteen minutes of music. Mostovoy had his players use not only the same bowings, but also the same fingerings, as a good string quartet might, in order to present Tabuteau’s concept in a unified manner.

He would ask them to do things for musical reasons that were technically difficult for the whole section. Sometimes in performance someone would miss, but he felt it was worth taking the chance because when it went just right, there was a fabulous result. Now almost forty years later, Concerto Soloists has expanded in size and is known as the Chamber Orchestra of Philadelphia.

The above is an edited extract from Sarah Maude Wetherbee’s 2002 dissertation: Marcel Tabuteau’s Influence on String Playing at the Curtis Institute of Music: a Philosophy of Twentieth-Century Performance Practice used by kind permission of the author.

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What's New!

Marc Mostovoy Replies to the Facebook Posts Attacking Marcel Tabuteau

An audio interview with Joan Browne (Champie), a private Tabuteau student in the early 1950s.

A photograph of the music stand that was in Tabuteau’s private studio in Philadelphia.

An autographed photo of Marcel Tabuteau inscribed to Joan Browne Champie.

An autographed photo of Marcel Tabuteau inscribed to Vladimir Sokoloff.

Marc Mostovoy Replies to the Facebook Posts
Attacking Marcel Tabuteau

When she learned of Joan Champie’s death, and read the obituaries, Katherine Needleman, principal oboe of the Baltimore Symphony Orchestra and one of two oboe professors at the Curtis Institute of Music, posted on her Facebook page and again via video a message of outrage. Needleman’s central paragraph, in which she addresses herself directly to Marcel Tabuteau, is as follows:

“I don’t care if it was 1952 or 1954. I don’t care what you did for oboe reeds, as if anyone cares that you sometimes scraped them longer with your knife than your predecessors—what an innovation! I don’t care what you did for phrasing, and I don’t care how many (mostly men) students you inspired with your abusive teaching, which lived on for generations because they were unable to self-assess and grow past it. I don’t care about your number system. If you did not admit Joan to Curtis because she was a woman, and if you “let” her sweep your floor as a reward, this is how I remember you. *** you, Marcel Tabuteau. You know what would’ve been a real innovation that would have provided us all some benefit? Being a Very Big Fancy Man who supported women in music.

Needleman’s outrage is the result of the mention, in Joan Champie’s obituary, that Tabuteau hesitated to accept women at the Curtis Institute because 1) the likelihood of their being able to pursue a successful career was limited; and 2) because, after a successful lesson, Tabuteau “allowed her to sweep the floor.” 

Point 1 is, very obviously, one of the sad facts of orchestral life in the United States in the 1940s and 1950s, and, alas, even beyond. Conductors at that time rarely hired women oboists. The increasing presence of women in symphony orchestras in the United States, and around the world, is one of the signs of the remarkable gains made by women since the mid-twentieth century, gains akin to those that have been made in this country by other groups long dismissed or long oppressed.

Point 2, apparently troubling–although possibly the result of Tabuteau’s well-known mischievous sense of humor, needs to be understood in context. Those of us who knew Tabuteau or who knew others who knew him well, acknowledge that he could be a difficult taskmaster and act cold in lessons—not only to his rare female students, but to all of those who came to his studio. And yet most of his students remained faithful and dedicated to him because of his demonstrative artistry and the richness of his teaching. As Joan Champie herself said, after explaining to me in an interview how trying it could be to withstand Tabuteau’s sometimes severe remarks, “each lesson was a gift.” Champie was a courageous young woman whose desire to learn from an artist obviously quieted the discomfort that she felt.

What is most distressing in Needleman’s tirade is the dismissal of Tabuteau’s reed-making, which was part of his effort to achieve a kind of sound that combined the best of the French and Viennese schools of oboe-playing (a kind of sonority that Katherine Needleman herself well produces) and the dismissal of Tabuteau’s concern with phrasing, which, as it gradually infiltrated the players who sat around him, became one of the elements that caused critics such as The New Yorker’s Winthrop Sargeant to call Eugene Ormandy’s band the “Rolls Royce” of American orchestras.

Needleman’s reference to Tabuteau’s “abusive teaching” goes too far. That teaching has lived on for generations not because Tabuteau’s students “were unable to self-assess and grow past it,” but because it incorporated logical and inspiring methods of making music come alive.

I take no pleasure in refuting Katherine Needleman’s profane tirade. Nor does anyone on our board think of the bad old days of male chauvinism as the good old days. The Marcel Tabuteau First-Hand website continues to remain dedicated to promoting the musical ideas of a man who in our view had a highly positive impact on the development of musical performance in the United States during his lifetime, and during the period since his death. I ask those reading this response and my initial reply below to forward it to others who might be aware of Needleman’s Facebook attacks, so that the facts may be known.

Marc Mostovoy
Website administrator

To Katherine Needleman: A Belated Reply to
Your August 15th, 2024, Facebook Post:
“𝐎𝐃𝐄 𝐓𝐎 𝐉𝐎𝐀𝐍 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐌𝐏𝐈𝐄.”

Katherine—your post on Joan Champie was just recently brought to my attention: https://www.facebook.com/profile/100058038401756/search/?q=joan%20champie. Having interviewed Joan last year, I thought it would be appropriate to respond. Kindly post this letter on your Facebook page and website. Thank you.

First I want to say that I wish you did have the opportunity to get to know Joan. She was a wonderful person and so inspiring. I felt privileged to have interacted with her even though it was only for a short period of time near the end of her life. Having gained insight into her relationship with Marcel Tabuteau through our conversations (including the live interview), I wanted to pass on to you what I learned from her.

As Joan pointed out to me, it’s important to understand that things were very different in her time. Viewed through the lens of today, Tabuteau’s treatment of her seems unjust. But she was a trooper and willing to accept the indignities because of the invaluable things he taught her. She felt it was well worth it as did all the other students who studied with him.

The reason Tabuteau did not like taking women students was because conductors of the major orchestras at that time wouldn’t think of hiring a woman oboist—even a Tabuteau student. Tabuteau felt putting all his time and effort into training a woman was futile because there was no career path for them, and he tried to dissuade women from taking up the instrument for their own sakes. But there were some women who wouldn’t take no for an answer, and he reluctantly taught them. They included Joan, Laila Storch, Thelma Neft, Marguerite Smith, Martha Scherer, and Marjorie Jackson. And may I point out that everyone cherished the time they spent with Tabuteau despite the rough time he gave them. He also dished out the same tough treatment to their male counterparts as you know.

Now you might ask why Tabuteau treated all his students as he did. It certainly would not be acceptable today. But that’s the way it was then. Gillet (his teacher) and many teachers of that generation practiced that method. Tabuteau continued it because that is what he knew and grew up with. The students who couldn’t take it dropped out, but those who persevered were grateful for what Tabuteau taught them. As a footnote, many of Tabuteau’s students said it was great training to go through because it prepared them for playing under the difficult conductors they encountered afterward such as Toscanini, Stokowski, Reiner, and Szell—all dictators in their own right. 

Laila Storch’s biography contains numerous tributes by his students: woodwind, string and brass players; pianists, vocalists – all attesting how important he was to their musical lives. Tabuteau gave them something special that their own teachers couldn’t. Those who learned from him can’t all be wrong in their praise. He was a giant to them.

Throughout your post, you chastise Tabuteau for his behavior, measuring it by today’s values. I ask you to please take a step back and try to see things as they were then. Also try to appreciate what Tabuteau did to advance oboe playing and for the musicianship he instilled in so many. Today (July 2nd) being his birthday, let’s grant him the credit he deserves. 

Finally, most oboists of the Tabuteau school wouldn’t agree with you in dismissing his importance in regard to reeds, phrasing, and so forth. Indeed, Tabuteau paved the way for you too, Katherine, whether or not you wish to acknowledge it. Surely, he was far from perfect, but does he really deserve the full treatment you give him? I think not. 

Marc Mostovoy

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