Today's oboist should have some basic techniques at his disposal that will enable him to successfully cope with the problems involved in performing the vast spectrum of contemporary music. These basic techniques involve the breath-embouchure apparatus and the fingers. The techniques concerned with the breath-embouchure are more crucial and more difficult to acquire, and therefore discussion is concentrated on them.
Flexible use of the vibrato [a wavering above and below the pitch] is the prime prerequisite in carrying out many composers' wishes. I find the vibrato produced by the diaphragm to be most successful. However, some oboists seem to have success using the jaw, throat, and lips. Intensity, speed, rate of speed, width of vibrato, and no vibrato are some of the variables found in contemporary scores. A device used by many composers is a note begun non vibrato progressing to molto vibrato, returning to poco vibrato. Below are three different ways to notate this effect which I have encountered:
In playing traditional music, the oboist is expected to play the exact pitch specified in the score. In fact, playing "in tune" is one of the most fundamental and most difficult techniques the oboist must acquire.
In the latter half of the 20th century pitch expectations have been expanded so that the oboist is expected to play "in tune" in ways other than the traditional. In addition to the various vibrato techniques, composers are using microtones. For the oboist's purposes, microtones can be considered a dissection of the vibrato, and can occur either above or below the basic pitch. For example, a moderate vibrato on G produces microtones between G and G sharp, and between G and G flat.
Microtones can be used for the pitches themselves, or for expression. When using microtones as pitches, the composer has the option of measuring or not measuring the degree of pitch variation desired. If only a general modification of a given pitch is desired, he relies on the player's control of the breath-embouchure and, of course, his ear. He directs the player with a general set of symbols, such as:
Producing these pitches is very difficult in either extremely slow, timed passages, or in extremely rapid passages.
In the case of three quarters sharp or flat, the player will find it easier to finger a note nearer to the desired pitch rather than try to alter the given pitch to that great an extent.
If a specific modification of a given pitch is desired, the composer may use a complex table of directions, in which he refers to a pitch as being so many "cents" or degrees, sharp or flat. In this case, the player must find the fingering which will consistently produce the desired microtones. A very sensitive air column and free embouchure are prerequisites for the success of the new fingerings in so far as producing the desired microtones is concerned. These new fingerings also produce new tone colors, uncharacteristic of usual oboe sound.
While preparing a performance of Benjamin Johnston's Three Persian Poems, Seven, I discovered that more than fifty-one specific pitches per octaves were called for! Below follows an example from this piece with my fingerings for achieving the indicated pitches. I have also included the pitch intonation scale so that the reader may judge for himself how very complex this particular piece is to "read."
The use of microtones for expression is now quite common. The simplest example is the resultant tone-color changes from clear and bright, to muted, or dark when switching from a regular to a harmonic fingering on a single pitch. All oboists should be familiar with the normal series of harmonics on the oboe and the corresponding fingerings:
The composer may choose to write a phrase on one note, variation being
indicated by the symbol normally used to designate the use of a harmonic, in
other words, 
.See Sequenza VII by Luciano Berio
for a demonstration of this technique.
Sometimes the harmonic designation is used over notes for which no harmonic
fingerings exist, such as. In this case, the player can
best serve the composer by finding an alteration of the normal fingering that
approximates the sound of a harmonic. The microtones that result in the various
shadings of bright and dark, combined with sensitive use of vibrato, can produce
a very beautiful result. Tremendous breath support and a free, sensitive
embouchure are needed to effect this technique. Opportunities for use can be
found in William Hellermann's One Into Another, Paul Zonn's Chroma,
and Bruno Bartolozzi's book New Sounds for Woodwinds.
The degree of glissando*[a gliding, or sliding between notes] designated
, possible on the oboe is dependent to a great extent on the
type of reed the player chooses. I myself make as stable a reed as possible so
far as pitch is concerned. Therefore, the range of glissando which I can do is
limited. The player who chooses a less stable reed will find increased
possibilities, depending on the unstability of the reed involved.
The glissando effect (in reality a microtonal slur) is produced by allowing the jaw to drop, taking the reed with it. After a certain degree of drop, the sustained sound will stop. The player should endeavor to make the downward interval as large as possible, then return to the starting position, producing an ascending slur. The interval possibly can be extended by "catching" the pitch on which he feels the slur breaking, fingering that pitch (no easy matter!), then continuing in the desired direction with the original approach. I have experimented with a combination of the above technique together with a relaxation of diaphragm pressure, as used in the diaphragm vibrato, with some success.
The versatile character of the trill in contemporary music can be likened to the diversity of the Baroque trill. A listing of the types, starting with the smallest interval, includes the (a) unison trill, (b) microtonal trill, (c) double trill, and (d) shake.
The unison trill, or key trill, is used as an effect of articulation as well as an effect for pitch variation. For the unfortunate players who cannot flutter tongue, the key trill is used as a substitute.
Two kinds of unison trills exist, each with its own distinct timbre and "feel." The first is produced by rapid exchange of two different fingerings for the same note.
Very few trills of this kind are available on the oboe. The second, and most commonly used, is the addition of a key to an existing fingering, which will change the timbre or pitch slightly. Experimentation by the player will yield a variety of unison trills effects. Some fingerings immediately come to mind:
The microtonal trill or quarter-tone trill is not commonly called for; however, it is quite possible to execute. Since most fingerings for altered pitch notes on the oboe also tend to change the sound quality, a rapid alternation in timbre will also result.
The double trill has been interpreted several ways by other writers on the subject. One interpretation of a double trill is the trilling of more than one pitch simultaneously. Another description is the trilling of chords. Then the double trill could be called a multiphonic trill. The double trill is accomplished by using special fingerings for multiphonics. I supplied this fingering for the double trill (double-note trill) in Paul Zonn's Chroma:
A final interpretation of a double trill is that two fingers do the job of trilling, usually producing a double-fast trill.
The shake is merely a trill between large intervals. Needless to say, some are easier than others. When a fingering cannot be found in the available fingering charts, the oboist must experiment until he finds a finger combination that produces the specified interval clearly, quickly, and easily. Some very difficult ones are found in William Thomas McKinley's Interludes:
Also in Paul Zonn's Shadows of an Orange Leaf:
Unintentional multiphonics have long been in the repertoire of both novice and the most mature, experienced oboists. The sound of gurgling water, and the resultant chords, are all too familiar and horrifying to forget.
To produce chords when specified in the score, and chords of specific pitches, is a relatively new technique which every oboist should acquire.
Reliably producing the same chord on any reed, any instrument,* [All fingerings are based on the plateau system oboe. Open ring models produce different pitches.] in any musical context, with a consistent embouchure and air column, has been my personal endeavor. With the capable assistance of Paul Zonn, it has become possible. Together, we have catalogued only the beginning of a vast collection of chords, the fingerings and pitches of which remain unchanged after several years, instruments, reeds, climates, moods, and musical situations for other players as well as myself. l offer the following favorites as a partial list:
Multiphonics appear in a variety of settings. They appear as free bursts of pitches, with pitches and fingerings unspecified.
They can appear as a result of a monophonic passage, and even return to a note of the passage.
The high "D" may be played either with the multiphonic fingering or the regular high "D" fingering, also the "B."
Another unusual example occurs in the sixth movement of Herbert Brun's six for five by two in pieces, Opus 41, 1971, for oboe, English horn, B flat clarinet, E flat clarinet, and bass clarinet. The multiphonics center around a melodic line played by the oboe in the high register. The notes are "C", "G" below, high "E", and "C sharp." A continuous melody of multiphonics results by the clarinet and oboe alternating between multiphonics and single notes.
The oboe line begins:
It is very difficult for one instrument to play a melody comprised of all multiphonics because of the embouchure changes involved. Too, the awkwardness of the fingerings make a true legato almost impossible, but alternation between multiphonic and single notes is very practical, effective, and can be quite beautiful.
A striking example of a multiphonic continuing a monophonic passage can be found in measure 47 of Chroma:
An enormous gamut of dynamics is needed to play new music. I often wonder if composers are forgetting that the oboist's sound source is still a blade of grass set into vibration by the strength of h is own air column, and not some man-made durable material manipulated by an electronic generator. I find myself continually frustrated by the limitations of the primitive reed, for the degree of loudness and softness possible is not infinite. I am further frustrated by the imperfection found in the instrument itself. With all of its sophistication and improvement, the oboe is still capable of leaks and seepage around the pads. Any amount of air loss, no matter how minute, reduces the dynamic possibilities in both extremes. Of course a leaky reed is just as devastating as a leaky instrument, and the player should be quick to recognize these conditions.
Since dynamics are largely dependent on the reed used, the oboist will find himself spending many hours on developing a style of reed which offers him all the flexibility and versatility he needs while allowing him maximum endurance. The optimum reed, when finished, will have preserved the dynamic possibilities found in that particular piece of cane in the initial scraping stages.
Some extreme cases of dynamic contrast required are found in the following works:
It would be misleading to omit a discussion of the reed necessary to produce the effects under examination, for without a suitable reed it is impossible to play the music. The expectations go far beyond those required to play traditional music. The reed must allow the player to produce in tune and with ease an enormous gamut of dynamics, shadings, nuances, articulations, and breadth of phrasing. Yet the frail weed from which it is made remains the same. How often I could see this versatility being scraped away, bit by bit, shaving by shaving, in the attempt to sound beautiful in spite of extreme demands being made on one's embouchure, air column, fingers, and whole body!
If quality of sound could be disregarded, most of the techniques in new scores could be accomplished with much greater ease. The difficulty lies in being able to balance the reed to the perfect degree of firmness and softness and resistance, so that articulation and dynamics can be played as quickly as they can be thought and seen. The reed must be tied so that the chamber holds not too much nor too little air, so that the reed speaks, and with relatively the same quality, when suddenly slurring to a very high or very low note.
It is imperative that the reed not leak air, for all components of good playing will suffer. If fishskin is used, it should be fastened securely in place with nail polish or any other means so that it will not be pushed down to the string when the embouchure takes in more reed to play in the high register. Only too often did I find a big fortissimo required for a low note sounding piano, only to discover the fishskin hanging, or having been completely "blown off" in a previous passage!
If the player is seeking the warm, rich, free sound that many of us imagine in our idealistic minds, it is tempting to scrape too much of the harder texture found closer to the bark, leaving the softer, weaker texture found inside the cane. When this point is reached in the cane, not only does the pitch stability of the reed suffer, but so do the articulation and dynamics, for the reed tends to bend and close in the mouth. Needless to say, these sad but important discoveries were made over and over again by me. I could think of countless instances where I could play all but one passage of a piece with a certain reed, only having to discard it and search for another that included all of the characteristics needed to play the whole piece.
The difficulty of the piece and the search for the reed diminishes in proportion to the extent I am willing to compromise on the quality of sound my background has conditioned me to expect as a standard. I am no longer shocked to discover that while playing on an unfinished reed I could fly through a frightfully difficult piece with breath to spare, executing the most extreme leaps with the greatest of speed, the swiftest of articulation, and the greatest of dynamic contrast. As I finished the reed to make the sound more acceptable, I found my wings clipped more and more, leaving me to sound less and less like a character from Henny Penny, but also unable to fly!
That is the eternal dilemma the oboist faces. At some point the artistic ideal must compromise with the realistic and practical. The oboist's judgment and circumstance determine where that compromise takes place.
The final frustration is that the solution is only temporary, especially when playing new music. The demands made on the fibers of the cane seem to destroy the desirable properties very quickly so that the oboist is at the beginning of his search most of the time. And, with or without a reed, the music is always waiting to be learned and practiced!
The oboist should not be misled into thinking that playing new music consists of being able to produce the effects presented in this survey. Many pieces exist which contain none of these sounds. Yet the "feel" of playing the pieces is that of being more demanding in scope and flexibility. One almost suspects that playing new music points up one's personal weaknesses much more clearly than playing traditional music. Consequently, overcoming these weaknesses not only prepares the oboist for a command of new scores, but also for a fuller, more masterful command of traditional scores.