Yorkshire Piano Makers (1): Pohlmann and Son

I've recently tuned two customers' pianos made by the firm of Pohlmann & Son. Historically, the British piano-making industry was concentrated mainly in London, especially around the area of Camden Town. In his book "Pianos and their Makers" from 1910, Alfred Dolge lists just three piano makers outside London, all of them based in Halifax; one of these firms was Pohlmann's.

 

This is one of the Pohlmann pianos I tuned, dating from around 1905-1910 - pictures reproduced by kind permission of the customer

The origins of the firm seem to be swathed in a certain degree of folklore, because Johannes Pohlman was a noted early maker of square pianos in London between 1768 and 1790. He is often described as one of the "twelve apostles", a group of German and Dutch instrument makers who seem to have emigrated to England around the time of the Seven Years' War (1756 to 1763). Whether there were in fact twelve of them, and exactly who they were, is the subject of some degree of debate, but Johannes Pohlman's instruments are some of the earliest keyboard instruments produced in London and those that survive are of great historical interest.

The Yorkshire firm of Pohlmann's was founded in 1823 by Henry Pohlmann (though Dolge gives the date of establishment as 1832), who evidently grew up in the local area. Local researches suggest that his father was born in Marburg in Hesse, though it is not known why the family originally came to Halifax. Unfortunately information is so scant that it seems impossible to say with certainty that Henry Pohlmann was in any way related to his distinguished predecessor, though the firm seems to have later on claimed, or at least hinted, that this was the case. However, the history of Pohlmann and Sons itself is of great interest, as one of the first and most important firms to base itself outside London.

It does seem that the firm was exceptionally progressive in adopting new innovations. Some information can be discovered from a business directory "Dublin, Cork and South of Ireland", by Stratten and Stratten, 1892, on account of the company's showrooms at 40 Dawson Street, in the centre of Dublin. A picture of the showroom is included:

The Dublin building still stands and today houses the Café en Seine. Does the roof vaulting look at all familiar?

 

The firm's entry in the directory states that they were the first manufacturers in England, apart from Erard's of London, to use the 7¼ octave (88 note) keyboard that is standard on all modern instruments (a great many older pianos have a 7 octave or 85 note keyboard). Also,the firm adopted full cast-iron frames in 1870 and overstringing in 1871, and the article states they were the first English manufacturers to do so. Apparently at this time, the proprietor of the business was George H Pohlmann, and he personally inspected every piano made before it left the factory.

Another clue comes from the official catalogue of the Yorkshire Exhibition of Arts and Manufactures, held in Leeds in 1875. An advertisement for Pohlmann & Son appears and refers to "Prize Medal Upright and Oblique Grand Pianoforte Manufacturers." More significantly, it states that they were the "Only Manufacturers in England of the American Model Upright Iron Overstrung Grand Pianofortes." This perhaps requires a little explanation. Firstly, it may seem a little confusing that the terms "upright" and "grand" appear together, but "Upright Grand" was a term used, particularly in the nineteenth century, by manufacturers - it might be taken to mean a large upright, but essentially it means the same as an upright piano. More importantly, however, it refers to the "American model." This term refers to the system of an overstrung bass with a full cast-iron frame, because the first piano of this type was built by Steinway's of New York in the 1850s. Most German manufacturers were quick to embrace the new technology, but it took much longer to find favour with British piano-makers. Perhaps the German ancestry of Pohlmann's founders and their location outside London helped them resist the conservatism of the rest of the industry. Certainly, their adoption of these innovations by 1875 means that they were early enthusiasts for the new way of building pianos - the way, in fact, all modern pianos are built.

The article refers to the Company's showrooms in Princess Street, Halifax and their factory in Hall Street. The building on Princess Street is now a Turkish restaurant called the Olivetta (which incidentally seems to have some good reviews on Trip Advisor if you are minded to visit):

The location of the "steam factory", as it is described in 1875, took a little more tracking down. The original buildings on the west side of Hall Street were all demolished at some point to make way for a dual carriageway relief road, but some online maps of Halifax around 1890 showed a building in Hall Street marked "piano manufactory", and the building was on the east side of Hall Street, where some of the original structures remain. And indeed, the factory still stands - it is today known as "Rimani House" and is a suite of offices, with Calderdale Carers' Project amongst the tenants:

Back in 1890 there was an iron foundry immediately opposite on the now-demolished west side of the street, which perhaps might have been handy for the manufacture of those cast-iron frames. Nice to think, however, that a piece of piano history still survives in the form of this building.

The firm seems to have gone into decline some time after the First World War, a matter perhaps not helped by the death of Reginald Pohlmann, who served in the Royal Flying Corps along with his brother during the conflict. It seems Pohlmann's stopped making pianos under the onslaught of the gramophone and wireless, ceasing manufacture some time in the 1930s, although I cannot find any record of the exact date when the last piano emerged from the factory doors. Later on the company, like several others of its kind, switched to selling radios, records and eventually television sets until it was taken over by Rediffusion.

The two Pohlmann pianos I have come across recently are robust, well-built instruments which have an extremely pleasant tone for their age (they are both around 100 years old). Although one sometimes has to be careful about manufacturers' claims, at the very least they seem to have been a firm committed to building high-quality pianos, and exceptionally forward-thinking in adopting new methods and technologies.

Although not listed in Dolge's book, there were several other piano manufacturers in Yorkshire around this time - a subject I shall return to in a later post.

Addendum: In a conversation with Dr Alastair Laurence of Broadwood's, he mentioned that he had (at a later date) met two of the brothers who were running the Pohlmann firm when it ceased making pianos.

By the 1930s, the business was being run by three of the Pohlmann brothers and their sister - Henry and Frederick were managing the piano manufacturing side, whilst Arnold and Cissy were looking after the showrooms in Princess Street. Henry Pohlmann was a piano designer who had studied with the famous German firm of Grotrian-Stenweg.

Due to the economic depression and the advance of radios, gramophones and other forms of entertainment, the 1930s were a dreadful period for the British piano industry, and the great majority of established manufacturers ceased trading. The last pianos were made by Pohlmann's in 1933 and the factory was then closed, but all the patents and designs of the firm and the right to use the Pohlmann name were sold to the well-known London company of Danemann's. The designs did not gather dust in a cupboard, because several Danemann models subsequently included string patterns or design features earlier used by Pohlmann's.

Merry Christmas

Just a note to wish customers, colleagues, friends and family all the best for Christmas and the New Year.

As some of you may already know from previous posts, I'm very fond of the humour of the famous pianist Victor Borge, but I couldn't find any specifically Christmas-related sketches by him. However, he is famous for this quote:

"Santa Claus has the right idea - visit people once a year."

Now despite his pianistic talent Mr Borge was not, as far as I know, ever a piano tuner. If he had been, he might have disagreed with this statement - in fact it's a good idea to have your piano tuned at least once a year to keep the tuning in good order, but I have customers who prefer more regular tunings to keep their piano in top condition all the time. So I am always very delighted to visit whenever you need me!

In any case, I thought it might be fun to have a look at Victor Borge's attempt here to conduct the Boston Symphony Orchestra back in 1986 - and I hope you all have an enjoyable festive season.

Feeling the tension (2): Calculating the tension on a piano string

In the last post, I promised that I would explain how to calculate the tension on a piano string, so I'm going to do that now. To do this, we will need to know three things:

• The speaking length of the piano string - that is the length between the capo bar and the upper bridge pin;
• The diameter of the wire - this should ideally be measured with a micrometer to get an accurate reading, since a small error may make a significant difference to the calculation; and,
• The exact pitch of the note (in Hertz or cycles per second).

With the pitch of the note, there are two ways to approach the matter - if you are so minded, you could use a chromatic tuner to ascertain the precise pitch of the note, or you could simply work on the assumption that the piano is at standard pitch (A above Middle C = 440Hz) which very often will be the case (though it is not uncommon for older pianos to be at a lower pitch).

A table of theoretically correct frequencies for each note on a piano can be found here. It should be noted that, on any well-tuned piano, the actual frequencies of notes outside the middle octaves may deviate somewhat from this, because of octave "stretching" - which makes the piano sound much better. Notes in the bass may be slightly flat of the "theoretically correct" frequency, those in the treble slightly sharp.

The Mersenne Equation 

At this point, enter the hero of our story - Marin Mersenne (1588-1648), who was a French monk, theologian, scientist, mathematician and "Renaissance Man", particularly noted for his contribution to acoustic theory.

One of Mersenne's most famous mathematical concepts was the "Mersenne Prime", namely prime numbers with the form:

Where n is a whole number. In fact, the six largest known prime numbers (at the time of writing) are all Mersenne Primes - this is due to the fact that they are easier to test mathematically than other prime numbers.

But on with the acoustic theory - the equation that concerns us is this one:

The Mersenne Equation:

Where F is the fundamental frequency of the note, L is the length of the string, T is the amount of tension on the string, and µ is the mass of the string per unit length. Put another way, this explains what are called Mersenne's Laws, viz., that the frequency is inversely proportional to the length, proportional to the square root of the tension and inversely proportional to the square root of the mass per unit length. This result is called Mersenne's equation (sometimes known as the Mersenne-Taylor equation or the Ideal String equation). The reason for the second alternative name is that the formula assumes that the string is perfectly flexible (zero stiffness) which is not the case in reality, and for that reason it is not quite perfect, but it will still provide an extremely good estimate for piano strings. (As a point of interest, one Galileo Galilei, who was a frequent correspondent of Mersenne's, also worked out the same thing, but Mersenne gets the credit because he demonstrated it experimentally).

We then need a set of units of measurement that will work. I won't go into the reasons for this, but if the following units are used, then the calculation will be correct:

• F (frequency) in Hertz (Hz)
• L (length) in metres (m)
• T (tension) in Newtons (N)
• µ (mass per unit length) in kilogrammes per metre (kg/m)

(There are other combinations of units that will work).

We then need to rearrange the equation above, because we are trying to calculate T, the tension. This gives the following result:

Before we can proceed any further, we also need a formula for µ, the mass per unit length of the string, which is as follows:

Where:

• π is the mathamatical constant pi
• d is the diameter of the wire (in metres)
• ρ is the density of the material from which the wire is made (in kg/m³) 

A sensible value for the density of high-grade steel used in piano wire is 7.85 g/cm³, which is 7,850 kg/m³ in the units we need to use. For the highest bass strings, according to this website, a value of 7.4 g/cm³ (7,400 kg/m³) is appropriate, ranging gradually down to 6.9 g/cm³ (6,900 kg/m³) for the thicker double-wound strings at the very bottom; this is because, although copper (used in the windings) is more dense than steel, the wound strings include a significant amount of air in the column.

Using the calculation in practice

This process can be demonstrated in practice using the middle C string of a Yamaha U1 upright piano, as follows:

I have removed the action of the piano to allow the string to be measured with a rule. In this case I haven't taken out the celeste rail (the piece of felt at the top) - this needs to come out for tuning to allow access to the pins. The top of the speaking length is the capo bar which is a ridge just underneath the pressure bar (the silver-coloured bar with the screws in it). I measured the length of the piano string with a rule and its diameter with a micrometer (seen in photo). Different strings on the same note will always have the same speaking length.

So you can see a little more clearly, here's a picture showing the pins, the pressure bar and the capo bar just below it without my arm in the way. On grand pianos, the end of the speaking length may be on the underside of the frame for some of the strings.

This shows part of the frame below the level of the keyboard. Each string passes across the bridge (the piece of wood sticking up in the middle of the photo), which transfers the vibration of the strings to the soundboard behind it. There are two pins attaching each string to the bridge - the upper one is the bottom end of the speaking length (in most cases there are three strings per note). In this case, the  middle C strings pass over the bridge towards the top right of the photo, behind the bass strings.

The speaking length of the middle C string is 0.665m and the diameter is exactly 1mm (0.001m).

Using the formula:

d² = 0.001² = 0.00001 m²
ρ = 7,850 kg/m³ (remembering, ρ = 7,850 kg/m³ for the steel strings or between 7,400 kg/m (upper bass copper-wound strings) and 6,900 kg/m³ (lower bass strings).

Multiplying up, we get µ = 0.006165 kg/m (i.e. one metre of the string weighs 6.2 grammes).

Then with the formula:

We get:

µ = 0.006165 kg/m
F = 261.626 Hz (the pitch of Middle C in equal temperament when the piano is at standard pitch of A = 440 Hz).
So F² = 68448.2
L = 0.665m
So L² = 0.442225

And the overall equation has the result T = 746 N. The result we get is measured in Newtons, which is a scientific unit of force - as any physicist will tell you, a kilogramme (or a pound) is a unit of mass, not force. However, a kilogramme force can be defined as the downward force exerted by a mass of one kilogramme in the gravitational field at the earth's surface. We can get this figure by dividing our result (746 N) by the physical constant g = 9.81m/s² which is the rate of acceleration of an object in freefall towards the earth.

This gives us our final result of 76.0 kilogrammes force. Assuming the tension on all 218 strings of the piano is roughly the same (as it almost certainly will be on a modern instrument), we can calculate that there will be approximately 16.6 tonnes of total pressure on the cast-iron frame.

One interesting point here is that Samuel Wolfenden, in his "Treatise on the Art of Pianoforte Construction" written in 1916, gives a set of model dimensions for a piano scale, in which the diameter of wire used on the middle C string is 1mm and the length is 0.688m. If this piano were tuned to A = 440 Hz, it would require a higher string tension of 81.4 kilogrammes force, but bearing in mind that Wolfenden was actually aiming for an older pitch standard then in use of A = 435 Hz, it can be seen that the modern U1 uses remarkably similar string dimensions and tensions to those that would have been employed on a high-quality piano from 100 years ago.

There is actually a great deal more that can be said about piano scale design, but as this post has already got fairly long and technical, I'll save that for another occasion.

Feeling the tension (1): why a piano has high-tension strings

A great amount of the weight in a piano, whether upright or grand, comes from the cast-iron frame (as you'll know if you've ever taken a piano apart and rebuilt it!); the essential purpose of this is to withstand the immense tension on the strings. So it is interesting to ask - how much tension is there in the strings of a piano?

The cast-iron frame of an upright piano

The amount of tension on each string of a (modern) piano is commonly the equivalent of the force exerted by a weight of around 75kg (this can vary significantly). An average piano might have 220 strings or thereabouts, so using these calculations the total force is around 16-17 tonnes for a typical instrument. In an article to follow I'll explain how it's possible to calculate the amount of tension on a given string.

However, an obvious question to ask is - why bother having so much tension? Why not have just enough to keep the string taut and allow the pitch to be adjusted, thereby avoiding the need for a heavy cast-iron frame in the first place?

Cranking it up a notch

Early pianos, which were wooden-framed, had much lower string tensions as they couldn't withstand as much force as a cast-iron frame, but despite this on occasion still used to buckle under the strain. The tone and power of these early pianos (which generally had lightweight leather-covered hammers) was fairly modest in comparison to a modern instrument. Over time, piano makers increased the tension on the strings, introduced metal bracings (later cast-iron frames) and replaced smaller leather hammers with heavier felt ones.

Having strings under higher tension confers a number of advantages:

(i) The amount of energy required to get the string vibrating is greater at a higher tension - this is beneficial since, once in motion, the string transfers more energy to the bridge and soundboard, giving improved volume and power (this is also the reason for the change from small leather-covered to more substantial felt hammers).

(ii) The string undergoes more complex vibrations at a higher tension, so there is a brighter and fuller sound; in fact, many early pianos sounded rather like harpsichords - the important difference was that the hammers allowed control over the volume through the strength of the blow on the piano. The timbre we associate with a piano today is a result of the increases in string tension through the 19th Century.

(iii) The pitch of the string is more thermally stable if the string is at a higher tension. Unfortunately, I'm not enough of a physicist to explain to you why this is the case, but it is. Samuel Wolfenden* (see reference below) says that the pitch of some older low-tension pianos from the earlier part of the 19th Century could vary by as much as a semitone(!) between summer and winter (and unevenly between notes, because string tensions weren't designed to be equal on these early insturments).

Generally speaking, when designing a piano, it is better to keep string tensions as similar as possible across all the strings. The main reason for this is that changes in temperature and moisture (the latter mainly affecting the wooden parts of a piano) will tend to make the piano change in pitch more evenly with similar tensions (i.e. the piano will stay in tune with itself), as well as giving a more even spread of tension on the pins and frame.

The 19th Century - The Piano Evolves

The results of these changes can be seen from a comparison of pianos at the beginning of the 19th Century with those at the end.

The picture shows a piano typical of one which might have been built around 1800 - two obvious differences from what would be seen today are the absence of a cast-iron frame and the arrangement of the strings (straight strung, as opposed to the overstrung arrangement used on all modern pianos). There are many other differences - this particular piano has 6¼ octaves as opposed to 7⅓ (88 notes) which is the standard compass today.

It should also be noted that actions in pianos around this period were of several different types, none of which were particularly similar to those used today; the Erard Double Escapement Action, which is the basis for the modern grand action, dates from 1821 whilst Robert Wornum patented the tape check action (the basis of the modern upright action) in 1842 (though it should be noted that similar concepts were employed on actions much earlier than this). A popular type of instrument in 1800 was the square piano, around the size of a large kitchen table (I have written about these in my previous post on the Broadwood Piano Festival); by 1900, the square had long since been eclipsed by the upright.

This picture shows a typical grand piano from just after 1900, which has practically all the features you would expect to see on a modern instrument - notably, the frame is cast-iron, allowing for much higher string tensions, and it is also overstrung (that is the bass strings cross over the tenor ones). It would also be remiss not to mention that the manufacture of wire also greatly improved throughout the century, which was also important in allowing the increased strain on the strings without frequent breakages.

In case you're interested in more technical information about this, there's an article here which has a graph showing changes in tension over time - the values on the left are in kilogrammes per note (I believe the notes shown are trichords on this graph - for the newer pianos at least it looks as if the bichords and monochords are not plotted), so should normally be divided by 3 for the tension on each string individually. These show that on Cristofori's piano of 1726, the tensions varied between 5 and 20kg per note; by 1808 (Streicher) this had increased to 40-80kg per note, and by 1914 (Ibach) was up to 220-260kg per note, where it has roughly remained ever since. Notably also, on the later pianos (Steinway M and Ibach) the tension is relatively much more even across the compass than on the earlier ones, reflecting a better understanding of scale design.

In my next post I'll explain how to calculate the tension of a particular string in any piano and a bit more about piano scale design.

* Reference: Samuel Wolfenden - A Treatise on the Art of Pianoforte Construction (1916)

The fastest piano in the West...

On Sunday 28th August, I attended the inaugural Micklegate Soap Box Derby, which I believe may become a regular annual fixture in future. Apart from anything else, a big well done to all the teams for raising some £50,000 for local charities, including York Community Energy, of which my housemate Tom is a big supporter. If you're interested in seeing a list of the winners, have a look here: http://www.yorkpress.co.uk/news/14710816.York_Soapbox_Challenge__The_award_winners/?ref=arc

I managed to get a few photos:

One of the teams at full pelt on the way down Micklegate

Brilliantly-timed camerawork yet again!

Chocolate or strawberry anyone?

Looks like Ben Hur has popped in for a visit! This impressive soapbox won the novelty prize.

Now, of course this did set me thinking - would it be possible to build a piano into a soapbox? Well, if anyone is up for that please do get in touch - though we have to work out how to get the piano down the big ramp at the start - and prevent it from careering off into the spectators - and perhaps we wouldn't be going all out for speed, especially over the cobbles down Micklegate Hill. Any brilliant ideas on how to do that are welcome....

However, aside from that, I thought it might be fun to look at a few of the weird and wonderful (human-powered) mobile pianos on the internet.

This is a blues and boogie pianist call Mark Lincoln Braun, who loves his piano so much he decided to move it 300 miles across Michigan on a bicycle. You can read all about it here:
http://www.treehugger.com/bikes/mr-bs-joybox-express-modern-minstrels-haul-piano-300-miles-by-bicycle.html

A hugely impressive feat, but unfortunately it's not possible in this case to actually play the piano and entertain passers-by whilst in the process of shifting it about. However, this chap seems to have well and truly solved that problem:

Someone just rode past on a piano...

This gentleman is called Gary Skaggs and his brainwave was to create this piano tricycle which he rides around in San Francisco. He explains a bit more about it here:

One thing that would be interesting to know is how stable the piano-cycle is when going downhill! Usually a piano is more likely to tip backwards as the cast-iron frame makes the back heavier than the front (something to note if you're moving one), so I'm not sure whether you would need any extra weights over the back wheel to keep it stable. It must also be said that he is also doing an excellent job to steer and play at the same time.

Not to be outdone, on this side of the Atlantic, there is a chap called "Rimski" who does the same kind of thing - pictured at Glastonbury in this video - though in this case it's possibly a bit more difficult to see where you're going. On the other hand, there does seem to be a handy bi-directional feature so the piano can reverse if needed. Indeed, which way is reverse, exactly?

A piano that ended up being human-powered in a slightly different way is this one. For some time there was a mystery about how an upright piano came to be at the top of a mountain in California but all is explained in this video:

There is a moral to this story - the pianist reported that the piano "hadn't been tuned for many years" and the keys in the right hand didn't work. If taking your piano up a mountain, I would strongly recommend having it checked by a competent piano technician to make sure that it is in good playing order when it gets to the top - as long as it's still in one piece by then of course.

I haven't yet managed to get a piano onto my bicycle, but I do have my piano tuning kit strapped on the back. Occasionally I need to bring some special equipment as well - I'll leave you with a picture of a string-height jig (used for regulating grand pianos) on the back of the bike, as well as the regular toolbox...

Voicing a piano

I attended a workshop a couple of weeks ago in Cambridge on the subject of hammer voicing, which is a way of changing the tone of a piano (it's sometimes referred to as "toning") - so I thought it might be a good time for a potted introduction to one of the important but slightly abstruse corners of the piano trade.

By way of explanation, it would first be worth mentioning that when a piano string vibrates, it doesn't just create a sound at one pitch or frequency. In fact, the string goes through a complex set of vibrations that create sound at approximately 2, 3, 4, 5 and so on times the frequency of the base (fundamental) note. This is one of the things that gives an acoustic piano a rich tone (difficult to imitate on an electronic instrument). Bass notes have more of these "overtones" than notes in the treble.

However, the prominence of these partials or overtones in the sound can vary from piano to piano; those where they are not very prominent are normally said to be "mellow" whilst those where the overtones are very prominent are "bright"; this may become "harsh" if the extra tones are too strong.

To overcome the problem of harsh (or excessively muddy) tone, it's possible to carry out different treatments on the hammers of the piano - however before doing this the piano needs to be in a good state of regulation and very well-tuned, paying particular attention to the unisons (that is, for most notes on a piano, there are two or three strings to increase the volume; these strings should be perfectly in tune with each other). If unisons are poorly tuned, this can give an impression of poor tone even if the hammers are fine.

The diagram above comes from Alfred Dolge - Pianos and their Makers (1910); this book is now in the public domain so can be read for free on the internet, and in this case illustrates a hammer-covering machine devised by the author in 1887. It shows the principle of hammer manufacture: a wedge-shaped block of felt (green arrow) is compressed around a set of hammer heads (red arrow), which is fundamentally the method still in use today. This means that the outer layers of the felt are under tension, the inner layers under compression.

For this reason, new hammers are sometimes "pre-needled", that is, treated with a larger needle to release some of the cupped layers of felt closer to the centre.

Piano hammers can then be sanded, using a strip of sandpaper pulled around the nose with pressure from the forefinger, to give an even surface. This method can also be used on pianos with hammers that have deep grooves in the nose from years of use (as long as there is enough felt left, particularly on the hammers in the high treble). Heavily grooved hammers can result in a dull or metallic sound with poor tonal quality.

Sanding hammers to ensure clean contact with the strings (the rear hammer of the two is the one being sanded)

It's then possible to carry out careful sanding on the nose of the hammers with a finer abrasive paper to ensure that the contact between the hammer and the strings of the trichord is even and perfectly simultaneous when each key is pressed.

Once all this has been done, the person carrying out the voicing will listen and assess the tone of each note on the piano, checking in particular for the following:

• Is the tone harsh (too bright) or too muddy across the piano or on certain notes?
• Is the tone even across the piano, or are there any changes (particularly sudden changes) of tone or timbre?
• Does the piano have a good dynamic range or is the sound too aggressive, and is the tone harsh when played loudly or softly? 

Carrying out needling of the hammers

The answers to these questions will inform the piano voicer as to the way in which the hammers need to be treated. This is quite detailed, but in general terms over-bright or harsh tone is dealt with by needling the hammers with voicing needles, which soften the surface of the felt. On the other hand, if the tone is muddy or dull (too mellow) then the surface of the hammer needs to be hardened a little. This can be done by sanding of the surface of the hammer, ironing with a specially shaped hammer iron, or treating the hammer with a special hardening solution.

Many thanks to Richard Schönhardt of Bechstein's, Chris Vesty who organized the day and to Millers of Cambridge for hosting such an excellent training session.

This informative video on YouTube shows a piano technician from Nevada sanding and voicing badly worn hammers on a Baldwin grand piano, and the difference that can be made when the instrument starts out with a poor or harsh tone.

Broadwood Piano Festival

I was very keen to write up my trip to the Broadwood Piano Festival in Whitby last Saturday - so here it is.

I set out on the 7.40 train from York to Scarborough on 4th June. Nice also to have my first close encounter of the musical kind at Scarborough railway station, which has acquired a "public piano" (along with a large number of others in the North of England, but unfortunately not York... harrumph!)

After arriving at Scarborough, thanks to Dr Beeching, I couldn't continue my journey any further by rail, so I ended up catching an absolutely packed bus which climbed an enormous hill out of Scarborough and passed across mist-shrouded moors before descending down another very big hill into Whitby.

Wonderful Whitby is famed for its history, scenery, olde worlde charm, tea rooms, sea air, steam trains and.... well, let's not mention the weather, shall we? At least it wasn't raining. It would be positively impolite to come this far and not take a walk up the famous abbey steps (all 199 of them) and see the famous Abbey itself, albeit in my case by walking around the back of the site. Thought you might like this photo:

Whitby Abbey in June

You can definitely imagine Dracula turning up near here around nightfall, can't you? In any case, on with the journey to Lythe village, about four miles out of Whitby to the north, where the festival was being held. The name of the village comes from a Scandinavian word for "slope" - I'll leave you to guess why that might be but if you really want to know, try walking up the road from Sandsend, just up the coast from Whitby, into Lythe village itself. The Piano Festival was a two-day event at the village hall. 

This was the oldest of the pianos on display, a 1793 Broadwood square piano, and still in working order after 220 years.The first thing to note about square pianos is that they aren't square - in fact the term (according to the Piano History Centre) comes from a corruption of the German term "Querpiano" which, as my German housemate pointed out, means exactly the opposite (transverse or "skew-whiff" piano) which refers to the position of the strings, which run diagonally across from side to side (unlike a grand piano where they run directly back from the keyboard). In fact, Germans now use the term Tafelklavier ("table piano") for this type of instrument which is a very apt description.

The tone and touch of the piano is quite delicate by modern standards and it sounds not unlike a harpsichord (though, unlike a harpsichord, the finger can control the strength of the blow and thus the volume). By the middle of the next century, a desire for more volume, sustaining power and a resonant tone had led to the piano becoming much bigger and heavier:

This is an 1858 Broadwood square piano - in case you're wondering why there's a picture of Queen Victoria on the music stand, it's because the piano belonged to her - it was moved into Buckingham Palace in 1867 as shown in the documents in the open folder on the right-hand side. In fact this is well towards the end of the era of the square piano since production in Europe finished not long after 1860. During the late eighteenth and early nineteenth centuries, the square piano had been a smaller and less expensive instrument than a grand piano, better suited to limited spaces. However, by this time the size had increased to a point where moving the piano was a significant challenge - like a grand piano, this one would need its legs removed and to be tipped on its side when moved. 

By now the square was in competition with the upright piano, which took up less floor space and was much easier to move than the larger squares then in production. In addition, the position of the action in square pianos (positioned behind the keyboard) and the limited space for it meant that hammer shanks were of different lengths and hammers had to be specially shaped and angled, in contrast to the upright piano where shanks could be of relatively uniform length and hammers of much more similar dimensions. This meant that square pianos were relatively expensive to manufacture, so they rapidly disappeared from the market. Curiously, they persisted much longer in the American piano industry, with Steinway's continuing to produce them as late as the 1890s - later examples continued as before to grow in size and gained full cast iron frames.

Also the sustain pedal of the piano can clearly be seen - Broadwood was one of the very first manufacturers to use these in place of the older knee pedals or hand stops in the 1780s.

This piano is an early barless grand made by Broadwood, with a pressed steel frame - the section of the rim with the red and gold decoration is also part of the frame. The piano is straight-strung (later barless models were overstrung). Unlike conventional piano frames with bars, this type of frame, an innovation of the Broadwood company, cannot be made of cast iron, because of the significant flexing that takes place when the substantial tension of piano strings is placed across it. This movement would cause a conventional cast iron frame to crack (as the material is strong in compression but relatively brittle in tension).

The grand piano above is a later barless model from around 1920, which is overstrung. Both of the barless models in fact have a remarkable continuity of tone from bass to treble (across the break in the case of the overstrung) but unfortunately the cost of the cast steel required made them much more expensive than conventional frames, especially after the First World War when materials were scarce. In typical fashion, one of the bass strings on this piano had broken a couple of days earlier, at which point it was too late to have a replacement made before the Saturday evening concert! One other unusual feature is that some of the copper-wound strings in the upper bass are trichords (normally there are two strings or only one for these bass notes).

Congratulations to Dr Alastair Laurence of Broadwood and his dedicated volunteer team of piano technicians and helpers (Cristina, Heather, Heather, Yo, Steve and Geoff to name those I know of) on a fascinating exhibition and all the hard work to bring these pianos into a good state of repair beforehand, as well as staging the whole event itself. A great shame I had to miss the two concerts on the Saturday and Sunday evenings as it would have been impossible to get back to York afterwards, but a fascinating and worthwhile day out.