One of the many—but by far the most striking—differences from modern instruments is the gut strings of Baroque violins. Finding a type of string that suits both the instrument and the player is a lengthy and patience‑testing process. Gut strings react very sensitively to climatic conditions. High humidity can cause the strings and their response to deteriorate to the point of near unplayability. The risk of breakage—especially of the E string—is ever present, and the ability to change a snapped string extremely quickly during a concert is a considerable advantage. 

The technical demands of Baroque music on the violinist differ radically from those of Romantic music. The left hand is less challenged, while the right hand—the bow arm—carries far more responsibility. Among the string family, the violin is the lightest instrument in terms of weight, which is not an insignificant detail given the amount of travel involved. 

Georg Kallweit

The historical instruments are the starting point for the sound. They are, so to speak, our language — the means through which we express ourselves. They often require a completely different approach from their modern counterparts. Gut strings have much more ‘grip,’ more resistance; they demand shaping of each individual tone. And at the same time, they are much warmer, resonate more strongly — in contrast to a synthetic string, which often practically calls for vibrato in order to make the sound come alive.

For us string players, however, the choice of bow is absolutely central. Since we have no recordings from long‑past times, it is above all the bows — of which quite a number of original models still exist — that tell us so much about the sound ideal of each period. I am always fascinated to try a new bow and discover what it has to ‘tell’ me from back then. A collection could never be complete; there are countless different models, and in every corner of Europe people were experimenting with different ideas, so that one could in principle play a different bow for every region and every period!

An early Baroque bow has hardly any strength at the tip, so the sound naturally tapers off. Up‑bow and down‑bow sound very different — a series of identical tones simply does not exist. Bows changed the most over time: already in the Classical era they are significantly longer and more balanced in weight, yet compared to today still very light, very springy, and extremely responsive. In the 19th century, development moved toward models with a very heavy tip: once they lie on the string, it is almost impossible to lift them again. Articulation was no longer done at the frog, but now at the top. The ideal of a legato sound shaped the era. I can well imagine the excitement of the time — that one could now produce tones that no longer automatically diminished in volume. It was celebrated, and an entirely new playing technique developed, with a stiff upper arm and an opening elbow.

By contrast, violins and violas have changed only minimally. Apart from string choice — and the real departure from gut strings only took hold after the Second World War — it is above all the ‘inner values’ that changed. The instruments became louder and more focused, and thus were given a stronger bass bar — though at the expense of a rounder, more purring sound. Fascinating to me is also the shift in string tension: in the Baroque era, one assumed equal tension across all strings, from low to high, but this gradually shifted in favor of the higher strings, which were meant to become increasingly penetrating. Melody became the guiding principle of construction. Baroque music, by contrast, was always shaped from below; bass and harmony determined its course.

The viola sits exactly between these worlds — built like an oversized violin, but while the smaller sibling quickly found its ‘ideal’ proportions, there has never been a standard size for violas. At Akamus we therefore often divide multi‑part viola lines according to the sizes of the instruments available! We are an extremely adaptable instrument: sometimes reinforcing the bass in a higher register (4‑foot), sometimes acting as a third melodic voice below the two violins, often shaping the harmony, and sometimes simply providing filling

Monika Grimm

This becomes particularly daunting when Bach’s St John Passion is on the program, in which the use of two violas d’amore is among the work’s sonic highlights.

Since we play viola or violin earlier in this work, the close spacing of the viola d’amore’s playing strings poses an additional challenge. When switching from viola to viola d’amore in concert, one must be thoroughly accustomed to the instrument and extremely precise with the bow’s angle, otherwise several strings may sound at once—an effect that does not always fit the harmony. And then we must trust that the strings we tuned before the performance will actually hold. This is very nerve‑racking and often causes considerable frustration for us performers. The upper seven bowed strings are usually four plain gut strings and three wound strings made of silver or copper, each reacting very differently to warmth, humidity, or cold. Then there are the seven sympathetic strings, the so‑called aliquot strings. These are not bowed; they run through the bridge and underneath the fingerboard, and can only be plucked with the finger for tuning. They provide the viola d’amore’s beautiful resonance. To prepare the instrument perfectly, we really need absolute quiet—something that is rarely available. For this reason, viola d’amore players spend a great deal of time tuning and are delighted when everything holds. A true disaster occurs when an aliquot string breaks just before the concert. It must be threaded through a plastic tube (or even a drinking straw) under the fingerboard all the way up to the scroll—a tricky procedure even for violin makers who specialize in this instrument. But despite all its challenges, this wonderfully resonant instrument offers immense joy—both in playing and in listening 

Sabine Fehlandt

Once the right double bass has been found, the next steps go far beyond choosing the correct setup; they often involve meticulous rehearsal work aimed at approaching a historically developed understanding of sound. 

In the Baroque and Classical periods, the term double bass referred to a wide range of bass instruments whose construction, tuning, and function were shaped by their musical context. Depending on whether an instrument provides the sonic foundation in a very low register or is used closer to the violoncello in a higher register, not only its role within the ensemble changes, but also the way musical lines are conceived and formed. 
This diversity is inseparable from historical scordature, that is, different string tunings. The so‑called Viennese tuning (Wiener Stimmung), which was widespread in Central Europe in the 18th century, opens up specific fingerings, resonances, and articulation possibilities through its special string arrangement; other scordature influence sound and playing technique in similar ways. Likewise, the shape and origin of the instrument—such as Italian bass designs with their more immediate response—along with features like gut frets and the choice of bow, whether a hammer‑head bow or an Italian or French Baroque bow, all interact directly with one another. 
Out of this interplay arises what we call historically informed performance.

Walter Rumer

The basset clarinet had an expanded tonal range, and they called it an Inventionsklarinette (invention clarinet). Since no examples of it have survived, for a long time there was insufficient information to know the exact shape of the instrument that is now known as the basset clarinet. It was only in the 1990s, when program notes from Stadler’s performances in Riga from 1794 with roughly engraved images were found, that the secret of the actual appearance and functionality of this instrument was discovered.

Its range is five semitones lower than that of a conventional clarinet and makes it possible to compose for a range of more than four octaves. The additional tones are produced by special long-style keys that are operated with the thumb of the right hand. In order to play even lower, an unusual amount of physical effort is required: if — in addition to these keys — the player closes the lowest tone hole with his leg or knee, the instrument’s lowest note B is reached. Thanks to its striking bell, which is reminiscent of a hollowed-out ball, the basset clarinet also has a suggestive and intimate sound.

At the time, playing quietly was considered a specialty of Stadler, about whom people wrote with admiration that “one almost believes he doesn’t blow.” Not only Stadler’s clarinet, for which he supposedly never paid the instrument maker Lotz, but also the original sheet music of the clarinet concerto was unfortunately lost. Around 1801, three publishers published prints of the clarinet concerto, but in versions for the much more popular clarinet in A, therefore missing the particularly attractive low tones of the basset clarinet. As a result, the clarinet part was significantly cut, a practice that remains often common in performances to this day.

On our recording, however, a clarinet part is used, which is designed taking allknown sources into account and includes the basset tones. The instrument used was reconstructed from boxwood by the Innsbruck master instrument maker Prof. Rudolf Tutz. The illustrations on the program notes from Riga served as a model, although the number and mechanics of the keys are not clearly shown.

With a historical basset clarinet, the forked handles, i.e. handles in which holes remain open between the resting fingers, produce a particularly wide range of different timbres. Only then do numerous tongue-in-cheek details within Mozart’s composition become apparent, which could have arisen from his humorous friendship with Anton Stadler. For example, certain sequences of notes in the first movement are almost unplayable and have a ghostly sound due to the demanding fingering technique. Mozart knew the clarinet very well, and in his composition instructions, he advised his student Thomas Attwood to only write for the clarinet in C and F Major. This indicates that he deliberately challenged his friend Stadler in terms of playing technique.

Ernst Schlader / Linus Bickmann
(translation: Calvin B. Cooper)

Die Barocktrompete (oder Naturtrompete) ist im Vergleich zu den heutigen Trompeten ohne Ventile. Das Urprinzip ist einfach ein langes Rohr. An das eine Ende kommt ein Mundstück, welches den Ton, den wir Spieler:innen erzeugen, überträgt, und die Röhre, in der das Mundstück steckt, ist der Verstärker. Am anderen Ende des Rohres ist ein Schallbecher bzw. Trichter, der abhängig von Größe und Form den Ton lauter oder leiser werden lässt. Der Grundton ist abhängig von der Rohrlänge des Instrumentes. Die meisten Werke für Trompete in der Barockzeit waren für D-Trompeten oder C-Trompeten geschrieben. Da C-Dur tiefer als D-Dur ist, ist in diesem Fall also die C-Trompete länger. Denn je länger ein Rohr, desto tiefer der Ton.  

Als Trompeterin kann ich also nur in dieser einen Tonart spielen, und eventuelle Harmoniewechsel nicht mitmachen, da es auf dem barocken Trompeteninstrument nur eine vorgegebene Naturtonreihe gibt. Die Naturtonreihe ist ein physikalisches Gesetz, was festlegt, welche Töne spielbar sind. Wenn doch in einer Sinfonie der Klassik verschiedene Tonarten vorkommen, dann muss man mit sogenannten ‘Aufsteckbögen’ arbeiten. Mit einem anderen Bogen wird z.B. aus einer D-Trompete eine C-Trompete. So kann dieselbe vorgegebene Naturtonreihe auf einem anderen Naturton beginnen und ich bin in der neuen Tonart. Das gleiche Prinzip gibt es bei den ventillosen Hörnern. Die Hörner können jedoch mit der Hand im Schallbecher Töne durch Stopfen spielbar machen, das ist bei den Trompeten nicht möglich.  

Heute ist die übliche moderne Ventil-Trompete in B gestimmt oder auch in C. Ein weiterer großer Unterschied zwischen den “alten” und “neuen” Instrumenten ist, dass die Rohrlänge der Barocktrompete doppelt so lang ist wie die der modernen. Dadurch entstehen mehr Obertöne, die mitschwingen und den Klang beeinflussen. Und genau das ist der Grund, warum ich es liebe, mit den historischen Instrumenten zu spielen. Ich kann “forte” spielen, und es gibt einen strahlenden Glanz und Klang, der aber nicht alles überdeckt. Und ich kann ebenfalls gleichbedeutend mit einer Violine, Oboe oder Singstimme musizieren, ohne dass es heisst: “Die Trompete ist zu laut!”. 

Jeder Ton wird nur mit unterschiedlicher Lippenspannung und Zungenpositon verändert. Ich habe kein Ventil, was ich drücken kann, damit ich sicher einen anderen Ton spiele. Man muss gut hören können, eine Tonvorstellung und viel geübt haben, sonst “kiekst” man recht schnell einen Ton… Das macht das Spielen des Instrumentes recht anspruchsvoll. Zudem liegen die spielbaren Melodien in der zweigestrichenen Oktave, was bedeutet, dass man eine gut trainierte Höhe haben muss.  

Aber alle größeren Schwierigkeiten, die ein Naturinstrument mit sich bringt, sind immer noch zu wenig gegen diesen warmen, farbigen Klang, den ich bevorzuge! Zudem liebe ich persönlich die Musik dieser Epochen, Barock und Klassik. Und für mich ist klar: Diese Musik muss ich auf dem Instrumentarium der jeweiligen Zeit spielen. Das Ventil wurde erst um 1815 erfunden. Eine h-Moll-Messe von Bach mit Ventiltrompete zu spielen, für mir undenkbar. Den Klang empfinde ich dann als zu hell und zu scharf. 

Ute Weyrich

Seit XYZ gibt es drei Hörner im Ensemble. Sie werden von XYZ und XYZ gespielt.

1982 in Berlin gegründet, gehört die Akademie für Alte Musik Berlin (kurz Akamus) heute zur Weltspitze der historisch informiert spielenden Kammerorchester und kann auf eine beispiellose Erfolgsgeschichte verweisen.

Ob in New York oder Tokyo, London oder Buenos Aires: Akamus ist ständiger und vielgefragter Gast auf den wichtigsten europäischen und internationalen Konzertpodien. Im Kulturleben seiner Heimatstadt Berlin ist das Ensemble ein zentraler Pfeiler. Seit über 35 Jahren gestaltet das Orchester eine Abonnement-Reihe im Konzerthaus Berlin. An der Berliner Staatsoper widmet sich das Ensemble seit 1994 regelmäßig der Barockoper.

Akamus musiziert unter der wechselnden Leitung seiner Konzertmeister Bernhard Forck und Georg Kallweit, seiner Konzertmeisterin Mayumi Hirasaki sowie ausgewählter Dirigenten und Dirigentinnen. Besonders mit René Jacobs verbindet das Ensemble eine enge und langjährige künstlerische Partnerschaft. Darüber hinaus leiteten in jüngster Zeit Emmanuelle Haim, Bernard Labadie, Paul Agnew, Diego Fasolis, Fabio Biondi, Rinaldo Alessandrini, Christophe Rousset und Francesco Corti das Orchester.

Mit international renommierten Solisten wie Isabelle Faust, Kit Armstrong, Alexander Melnikov und Carlo Vistoli arbeitet Akamus regelmäßig zusammen. Gemeinsam mit der Tanzcompagnie Sasha Waltz & Guests entstand die Erfolgsproduktion „Dido & Aeneas“ (Musik von Henry Purcell), die bislang rund einhundert Aufführungen von Berlin bis Sydney erlebte.

Besonders hervorzuheben ist die herausragende, mehr als 30-jährige Zusammenarbeit mit dem RIAS Kammerchor, von deren Qualität zahlreiche preisgekrönte Aufnahmen zeugen. Zudem pflegt das Ensemble eine enge Zusammenarbeit mit dem Chor des Bayerischen Rundfunks und der Audi Jugendchorakademie.

Aufnahmen des Ensembles wurden mit allen bedeutenden Schallplattenpreisen ausgezeichnet, darunter der Grammy Award, Diapason d’Or, Gramophone Award, Choc de l‘année sowie der Jahrespreis der deutschen Schallplattenkritik. 2006 erhielt das Orchester den Telemann-Preis der Stadt Magdeburg, 2014 die Bach-Medaille der Stadt Leipzig.