By Caity Massoud, Director of Sales
The cuckoo bird had stopped singing and next up was the Volière movement from Saint-Saëns’ Carnival of the Animals. The strings started at the flick of the conductor’s baton and across the stage, the bass section’s pizzicatos let me know that this was the moment of truth. From my seat in the principal chair, I took a deep breath and thought, “Well, I’m about to find out if this new flute performs under pressure”. After the minute had blurred by and my solo was over, I took a sigh of relief. My nerves, uncertainty, and doubt had melted away and I knew that if I could successfully perform on this new instrument for the very first time, and on Volière no less, then we could do anything together.
Knowing it was time
Ever since grappling with the projection and reliability on my more resistant, pinned mechanism flute I knew that a new flute would be in my future. But, the timing always seemed off. I was still developing and growing through my Master’s and DMA degrees and thought that I surely had more to learn myself before throwing a new flute into the mix. After years had passed, and when regular rehearsals and performances started to pick back up again after being shut down due to the pandemic, I realized that I wanted to finally have a flute that I could find ease and joy with.
Getting started
As Resident Flutist at Flute Center of New York, I’d spent six years helping other flutists find their dream flute. Now that I was finally in the market myself, the task felt daunting. Like most flutists that I assist, it was hard for me to narrow down exactly what sound I was looking for when there were almost limitless possibilities and endless options to choose from. So, I took my own advice and decided to start with a couple flutes and vowed not to overthink things. I knew what I did want; I needed a silver, pinless, soldered tone hole body to pair with my solid gold headjoint. I wanted my new flute to sing, to have an open and spinning sound, and to allow for a wide range of tonal colors. I was not willing to compromise on intonation or mechanism precision and I also wanted to make the switch from an inline G to an offset G. Keeping my “musts” in mind, I took home a couple options at a time and started the trial process.
Pulling the trigger
After practicing on the different flutes alone, I knew which one I was gravitating towards and already narrowed down my choice. Since I only brought home flutes that met my list of requirements, I was able to truly focus on the sound and follow my intuition on what would be the best match. Next, I played for other people. I listened to feedback about overall sound and projection, taking these points into consideration but never allowing them to hold more weight than the feeling I had in my gut. No matter what others’ opinions were, I knew that I needed to pick the flute that made me feel most excited to practice and perform on it. Once the idea of having to return the flute settled in, I knew that I didn’t want to part with it at the end of the trial and wanted to keep it as my own.
Trusting myself
While I did test my final choice in the symphony hall and even played the flute alongside colleagues in rehearsal to make sure it was a good fit, I had yet to play a truly demanding concert and test the capabilities of my new flute. When I found out that we were performing Carnival of the Animals, I felt a little terrified that I had made an instrument change right before a big concert. Even if my other flute held me back at times, at least I knew what to expect from it in a performance and the different tendencies I had with it when performing under pressure. The unknown was scary, but I decided to place my trust in myself and the new flute I chose. I tried to instead focus on the renewed joy I felt when I played on my new flute and the confidence it gave me in the practice room. Rehearsals on Volière went well, the concert was a success, and I was finally able to ask myself, “What took you so long?!”.
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