In Conversation with Nicola Boud

Guest interview by Elena Wittkuhn — Mirabilis Collective cellist and creative contributor

I meet Nicola, with Mirabilis Collective Artistic Director Stephanie Nicholls, on a blustery Monday at a local coffee joint. Local for me, at least – it’s been years since the globally sought-after clarinettist has lived in Perth, having since scored an impressive trail of performing and teaching credits around the world. Nicola’s equally warm and eminent reputation precedes her - I know that she is one of the world’s most in-demand clarinettists to play in the Historically Informed Performance Practise (H.I.P. for short). I also know that she is a Perth native, and is now main subject professor of Historical Clarinet at the prestigious Belgium Conservatory. I had heard some personal accounts of how lovely she is. During our interview, I finally had the chance to witness this for myself, our lively conversation adding some warmth to the gloomy Monday chill. We talked about her musical upbringings, her happy transition from standard to historically informed performance practice; bonded over a love of Perth and the power of music and mentorship; and the contemporary challenges and joys of playing old music in an increasingly modernised world. Nicola first encountered the world of Historically Informed Performance through a Musica Viva concert at sixteen, and I can’t help but marvel at how it must feel to be embarking on a national tour with the very same organisation years later. Of course, this is the first thing I ask.

Does it feel a bit like a full-circle moment to be playing H.I.P. on a tour with the same organisation that introduced you to it?

It does, actually! I loved playing modern clarinet already, but hearing people play on historical instruments was totally new to my ears, and instantly just made so much sense. I used to go to quite a few of the Musica Viva concerts when I was younger, and that was a sort of little window into the rest of the [musical] world. Because, you know, working in Australia seems so isolated, but there is so much good stuff that happens here, and I think the isolation serves it well. Because nothing is a given, you have to really create things yourself – it’s a gift actually – along with the big sky! You have the space to create things and come up with ideas – you’re not bound by too many traditions.

It’s interesting you say that actually, because you specialise in historical playing, which I think most people associate with following tradition. Do you think there’s a bit of a paradox in what you do?

I’m not sure. Another interesting thing – perhaps something that can be connected to my love of history – is that my dad’s always been obsessed with antique maps. [We used to have] a copy of an old map of Western Australia from the 1750s that was commissioned by the Court of Versailles. It was from when the French and Dutch were visiting, so this map was in three languages – it was in a bit of English, a bit of French and bit of Dutch. And it’s funny because in the end I grew up in Western Australia, studied in Holland and lived in France, and it was an 18th century map, so my mind was kind of gathering all those elements together. I think it’s a funny coincidence, or perhaps not, that I would end up having a career in this sort of thing – piecing together missing puzzle pieces of what different people have said about a certain thing, in that case of a place, the West Australian coastline – in my case, interpretations of music, signs and sound.

You’re so right, because that’s kind of like how musical scores are as well, isn’t it – with all the languages, eyes and interpretations that have gone over it over the years – it’s fascinating how rich one single score, or, in your dad’s case, a map, can have and accumulate over the centuries. That’s such a wonderful parallel. It makes us interrogate the truth of a work over and over again. Would you say that is the primary aim of Historically Informed Performance – aiming for ‘full authenticity’ to how an instrument or work would have sounded?
I think things have changed a lot over the years. I think H.I.P. has come a long way. Back in the day, in the late ‘60s and ‘70s when the whole [H.I.P.] movement started, even on [the musicians’] music stands they would have their treaties [old instruction manuals of exactly how to interpret certain signs etc.]!  But ultimately, you have to be authentic yourself. You have to feel the music yourself. You can’t just ‘reproduce!’, because that’s boring. If you do it too much by what the sources say, it’s a bit removed, somehow. And even all the players back then had their own personalities as well, so no one sounded like the other. Sure, there are different ‘schools’ of playing – different nationalities of composers imbuing their own style into how exactly things would be played. But I think it’s found a good point now, where we are aware of the different sources of context, both historically and socially.

What are the practical elements of historically informed practise that impact or inform style?

If you respect the instrument, it actually tells you a lot about how it wants to be played and phrased. For example, on historical clarinets we use quite light reeds, as we don’t have to sustain too much. You’ll even observe that different national characters come through the instruments! If you let the instrument tell you [about itself], you can learn a lot.

Do you think there are any risks in learning a historical instrument or how to play in a historically informed style on a modern instrument? Would this confuse the learning process that you have been describing, or is it still a good start?

There can be some disadvantages to fully getting into the style and understanding how the instrument wants to be played in order to play in a certain musical style. Some people can get quite uppity about it – but at the end of the day, I think we have to recognise that music is music! I’m really not too extreme about it. And most people who get into H.I.P. start off on modern instruments anyway – I don’t think I know any historically informed clarinettist colleagues who didn’t start off on modern. And it’s all good practice. Everything you do just teaches you more about the kind of music you want to play, and the kind of player you aspire to be. Any entry into music, whether transitioning into H.I.P or not, is surely a good thing.

Can you tell us a bit about the specific instruments that you play?

Yes, my first historical instrument was a five-key Viennese instrument. I’m lucky enough to have a few originals – some French clarinets from the 1840s. I loved playing [modern], and with historical clarinets I can even still play repertoire from the early 20th century, for example with my late 19th century Buffet clarinet.

What are your thoughts on fusion between HIP and contemporary music? Do you see or foresee a lot of it? Are you hearing more of H.I.P coming into more mainstream classical orchestras?

Yes, and I think it’s a good thing that it’s becoming more mainstream. Although there are some orchestras in Europe now that are reluctant to play Mozart and Beethoven [etc] now because they think “Oh, should we leave that to [H.I.P orchestras]?” But overall I think there’s just more awareness amongst orchestras as a whole, of H.I.P practice. Funnily enough, it’s really becoming more current. I’ve seen some non-HIP orchestras who use natural [French] horns, for example, if they are playing certain pieces from a certain century that used those instruments. It really shows the growth of H.I.P. into the wider ‘mainstream’ classical space – if you can call classical ‘mainstream’! * laughs* It’s all very exciting. 

How did you find the transition from modern to historical clarinet?

It took some time. You’re initially thinking “ah, this thing doesn’t work!” * laughs* but after a while, you realise that the things that feel like disadvantages can turn into possibilities. For example, the [historical] instrument that I started on, an 18th century Viennese clarinet with only five keys [compared to the average modern clarinet with seventeen keys] - required me to use cross-fingerings – lots of combinations of fingers – like on a recorder. For some notes you’re just covering half a hole with your finger, and sometimes you think “Is this actually a note?” *laughs* But, the more you discover it, the more you let it tell you how to play it, and you can discover all these new colours. Sometimes I talk to my students about notes in terms of flavours, like, “Oooh, that note has a bit of chilli on it, and, ooh, that note, a bit of pepper!” * laughs* You know, it’s a different palette of colours and spices to work with! You learn to not “tame” them, because every note has its own special colour and character. Then you get into the repertoire and you understand why pieces were written as they were, because you understand how certain notes want to be shaped in certain ways, in certain keys. That certainly still happens on modern instruments too, because the music is written so well, but I guess on historical [instruments] you discover another way of feeling the same thing[s]. Also, when it comes to deciding on how best to play certain notes, that is, which fingerings to use, this differs more between individual historical instruments. The fingering patterns are more uniform across modern clarinets, generally achieving a more uniform sound palette. So when playing historical, you really have to spend the time to get to know the character of each individual instrument.

Stephanie: As a wind player I’m curious, what is the note with the most number of cross-fingerings?

An Ab or G sharp! But still, even if we were to play on a set of identical instruments by the same maker, there would still be differences in suitable fingerings between clarinets.

I’m finding this conversation quite moving, because of the way you talk about the connection with your instruments. You embrace what they’re trying to tell you, you’re not trying to ‘iron’ out any quirks or force your instruments to be or sound like anything they are not. This feels in stark contrast to how we approach manufacturing most other things today, with our obsession with uniformity and superficial perfectionism. Has H.I.P performance taught you any deeper life lessons along these lines?

Yes, absolutely. [Playing historical instruments] rejoices in the quirks, we embrace the imperfect, and that becomes the source of inspiration. So you learn to forgive yourself if something goes wrong.

What are some challenges for people getting into H.I.P. performance at the moment?

On a larger scale, there is a bit less work, and there are lots of students. So as a teacher I feel responsible to be realistic with students about that, and try to offer them as many opportunities as possible. I still believe that at the end of the day, if you play well and know how to get along with people, you will find your place. There are only a handful of H.I.P orchestras that you can be a regular official member of, so most H.I.P musicians work on a freelance basis, not necessarily with a fixed job. You can be asked back [to play with a group] regularly and it can be very loyal, but at the end of the day, it’s still mostly project-based and you’re only as good as your last gig. This applies a lot in the general musical scene of course but particularly with H.I.P because it’s just that much more specialised, and the ensembles are generally much smaller as well because of how historical compositions were scored. There are of course also issues with cultural funding.

Stephanie: There are so many things that emerging artists need to know in addition to their instruments, and at Mirabilis Collective we really want to support that learning journey through professional development. What do you think are the complimentary skillsets that H.I.P. graduating students need to build?

It’s really good to get some teaching. I think that’s quite universal amongst musicians. Starting independent ensembles are also a great way to get out into the industry. In Europe there are quite a few early music festivals with their own fringe festivals within them, where young ensembles can take part. There are quite a few competitions as well, which can get you a bit of exposure. So there are quite a few avenues if [one] is motivated enough.

How do you find the mental and physical shift required to play between instruments from completely different centuries – oftentimes even within the same concert?

It’s very good for my neuroplasticity! *laughs* When it comes to French versus German clarinets from about 1820, their fingering systems are totally different, for one. They went through so many different innovations, concert halls got bigger, tastes changed, and these things all affected how the instruments shifted. So it’s a lot of muscle memory, but your brain has to be on board as well! * laughs* But the worst thing you can do is panic, you have to be kind to yourself. Give yourself a few days to do the mental switch if you can.

And what about the emotional shift when you go from piece to piece?

Being a musician is a bit like being a method actor sometimes – it’s like I’m time-travelling, I imagine the bigger context of music that I’m about to play, entering the world, entering the aesthetic. Then again, the instrument always helps you and shows you how it needs to be played. [Adjusting] can be a challenge, but it’s kind of fun as well – I get to wear all sorts of hats!

What is your favourite historical clarinet that you play?

That’s a really good question! *laughs* It’s funny because depending on the repertoire, whatever [instrument] I’m playing, that’s my favourite instrument. When I’m in a particular [sound]world I think “this is the best instrument ever!” But I guess the instrument that feels the most like home is my 18th-century copy 5-key clarinet. It’s the connecting point between baroque and early modern clarinets, and it was also my first historical instrument that I ever played, so it really feels like my home base. It’s also extra special to me because I made it in collaboration with my good friend and clarinet maker in Paris, Agnes Gueroult.

Why do you think it’s important for people to listen to chamber music today?

 It’s an opportunity to listen to art being made in real time. No matter what music it is, it’s a chance to be invited into human connection, which we really need to be reminded of at the moment. The world can feel like a horrible place, and sometimes I wonder – is this a bit indulgent? But then I remember, “actually no, there’s a place for it.” Time stands still, and people can find bits of themselves in the music. Even if you don’t consider yourself a musical person, just watching people connect [through music] is a beautiful thing. In music you have to really listen, you have to be respectful and present to make the music work. It’s a generous profession. It’s about sharing. It’s so important.

Nicola Boud is a Historically Informed Practise clarinettist based in Belgium. Boud plays in Musica Viva’s national tour, “Mozart’s Clarinet”, alongside H.I.P. keyboardist Erin Helyard and cellist Simon Cobcroft from July 15-28.

For full concert details, visit the Musica Viva website.
To book your tickets directly for the Perth concert on Saturday 19 July head to TicketsWA.

If you enjoyed this interview, you can follow Nicola on Instagram @boud.nicola, and don’t forget to subscribe to the Mirabilis Collective mailing list for more insightful conversations.

In Conversation with Jennifer Marten-Smith

Guest interview by Elena Wittkuhn — Mirabilis Collective cellist and creative contributor

Jennifer Marten-Smith, thank you so much for joining us. Firstly, could you please tell us a bit about your introduction to music?

I was five years old when I started piano lessons. Growing up in a musical family, I think it was inevitable that I would learn an instrument. My father was an opera singer, my maternal grandfather was a renowned tenor in Germany, and my mother studied piano although she did not pursue this as her profession.

As a child I had the fortune to have my mother sit with me for every practice, which kept me company but also kept me focused. I also had the great fortune to have a piano teacher whom I adored. I looked forward to my lessons – every Wednesday afternoon – to show him the progress I had made.

What was a turning point in your early musical journey? Were there any challenges or highlights you’d like to share?

At the age of twelve I was invited to study with Frau Professor Gediga-Glombitza at the Musikhochschule in Cologne, Germany. Because I was born in Bremerhaven (my mother is German, and my father had a career in Germany as an opera singer), there was no language barrier. The professor’s house was closer to where I was living than the Musikhochschule, so she would let me go there to practice while she was at work. I have a wonderful memory of hours at the piano, entertained by red squirrels running up and down the beautiful tall trees outside the window. Shortly before I returned to Tasmania, the Hochschule put on a concert where I performed Beethoven 32 Variations, another highlight of that trip.

Do you think your talent affected your childhood or artistic identity in any way?

I do not think growing up as a ‘talented’ pianist really changed my childhood that much. I still got to ride my bike, play with friends, go horse riding, do gymnastics. My favourite time was spent with my family and my animals. We had holidays at Christmas, and we often stayed at a shack on Bruny Island, where they let us bring our dogs and cats. It was great fun, running on the beaches, climbing rocks, avoiding snakes, and trying not to get hooked on blackberry thorns. They were happy times – but after two weeks I would be itching to go home because I missed my piano.

Could you please break down the differences in the roles that you take on in your career – between soloist, accompanist and repetiteur? Do you have a favourite, and if so, why?
I have worked as a soloist – there’s so much great repertoire to explore – and there is something really fulfilling about performing when every musical decision is your own, where it is just your own skills that need to be honed and where you are solely responsible for the beauty of your sound.

I have also worked as an accompanist/collaborative pianist – which still involves solo skills but also requires knowledge of the other part. Where two people must make the music sing, where two opinions are brought together to sound as one, and where you sometimes must be willing to relinquish control over musical direction.

Some partnerships require work; rehearsals to figure things out, such as: phrasing, dynamics and breathing written into parts. Others coalesce more quickly, and when you play, everything simply falls into place. Both types of partnerships are exciting! When you get on stage to perform together, and you bring the music to life for the audience, it does not matter, at least to those listening, how long it took to put the jigsaw together.

Thirdly, I have worked as a repetiteur – in Australia and in Germany – and this is also a fascinating role. Although as a repetiteur, it can feel a bit more as though one is in the background, as it is rarer to be involved in the actual performance. Nevertheless, it is exciting to be around opera. You get to meet a lot of people, as well as the core group of musicians working at the opera companies – guest singers, conductors, directors, choreographers, and you work on a wide variety of shows. Perhaps because I grew up in an “opera” family I was destined to work in this field for a time at least, 25 years as it turned out. I continued to play solo, and I did many, many concerts collaborating with singers. I also played a lot of chamber music, another love of mine.

All these styles of “being a pianist” are great, but deep-down performing is still what I love the most, so I will put it out there that being a freelancer now, with all the options at hand, is a fun time of life.

What is your approach to practice?

As a child I had a regular practice routine – a certain amount of time spent learning at a particular time of the day. It is a little trickier as an adult, juggling bill paying, work, family, and other commitments, so I have had to come up with ways to learn music thoroughly but quickly. Lots of focused ways to challenge the brain, ears, fingers, and muscle memory. Luckily, through early training, I am a very good sight reader. This talent, plus the ability to hear absolute pitch away from the instrument, saves a lot of learning time.

We’re about to see you and the wonderful violinist Johan Dalene embark on a national tour with Musica Viva. What has the preparation process been like so far?

For this Musica Viva tour, performing with violinist Johan Dalene, I have been afforded the luxury of time. With soloists like Johan, much in demand, timetables are tight, and concerts need to be booked in early. There is a great variety of music on this programme, and it has been a fun journey learning the notes, the style, working on technique, listening to old recordings, coming up with new ideas.

And the best part is still to come – meeting Johan for the first time just a few days before our performance at the Melbourne Recital Centre, with a short intense rehearsal period to bring our ideas to life.

At Mirabilis Collective, we’re always excited to hear female compositions and new works. This program features one of each – “D’un matin de printemps” by Lili Boulanger, in its original composition for violin and piano, and the world premiere of Jack Frere’s “Tilted Scales”. How would you describe the program as a whole?

The programme we are performing has something on it for everybody. From classical through to a brand-new commission. You’ll hear a lot of beauty and a lot of impressive technique from both instruments – a feast for the ears, eyes, and heart.

Jennifer Marten-Smith and Swedish-Norwegian violinist Johan Dalene will perform in Perth on Thursday 19 June at the Regal Theatre , as part of their national tour, “Northern Lights”.

For full concert details, visit the Musica Viva website.
To book your tickets directly, head to Ticketek.

Photo credit – Luke Frost