Rose Bishop and Heather Neuenschwander performing at the James Theater — courtesy of the artists

Rose Bishop and Heather Neuenschwander, two classical flutists who recently released the duo album Unseen/Unheard, performed a release recital on Sept. 26 at the James Theater. The album, released on the same day by Strange Moon Records, collects several pieces commissioned by the duo from contemporary composers. It boasts the distinction of being the first-ever album exclusively featuring music for alto and bass flute duets.

The commissions, recordings and this recital were supported by an Iowa Arts Council grant. It was good to hear that there still is an Iowa Arts Council, and that it’s still funding worthwhile projects.

Bishop and Neuenschwander are classical musicians, with impressive resumes as educators and performers. Bishop plays in three orchestras and teaches flute at four(!) different colleges in eastern Iowa. Neuenschwander performs and teaches flute in Iowa City.



Also very good to hear is two flutists performing new music. They performed without amplification, and the James is a small enough venue for them to fill it with sound. Relative to the standard concert flute (whose range begins at Middle C) the alto is a fifth lower, and bass flute an octave lower. This gives the instruments a lower, deeper sound than a concert flute.

They opened with Alyssa Mercedes Mena’s “Hermana,” which is structured as a conversation between sisters, where they alternate complementary short phrases — hocketing — that sounds at times like two people playing one flute. The piece shifts from hocketing to overlapping to harmonizing. It’s resolutely harmonious — not an argument.

“A Wandering Journey” by Arturo Rodriguez, by contrast, sounds more modern, and more a duet than a conversation. It’s more harmonically diverse than “Hermana,” without being harsh or jarring. It’s modern, with harmonic twists and turns. The instruments take turns between accompaniment and melody.

Yoshi Weinberg’s “Cat’s Cradle” is constructed of short phrases that are echoed back and forth between the two flutes, with variations. Low, fluttering trills add a sensation of two notes at once, and the echoes between the two players are subtly altered so they harmonize as they overlap. “Memento” by Timothy Hagen uses sustained notes in close harmony to give it a reflective, elegiac feeling.

“Night Blooming” by Sonya Leonore Stahl celebrates the sweetness of a short-lived thing, echoing the baroque period’s busy polyphony, which is tempered by the smooth, sustained sound of the flutes. “Fremont Street” by Leanna Keith is the most “modern” sounding piece, involving alternative playing techniques to create percussive sounds — what Bishop called a “beat box jam sesh” — that involved saying short percussive words across the mouthpiece.

Bishop and Neuenschwander are both masters of their instruments. Bishop’s bass flute sound has multiple textures, sounding sometimes like a saxophone or English horn. Neuenschwander also played bass but mostly focused on alto. The two instruments can sound very similar, but the bass flute’s rich overtones gave an edge to its deep tones.

This many world premieres in one show is remarkable, almost a stunt, but each is worthy of its place in modern classical music. Each was a different take on the lyrical, singing quality of the flute. All music began with the human voice, and flutes have a liquid-singing quality. For Bishop and Neuenschwander, playing is like breathing, or singing. They explore a whole world of tone and harmony, with a gentleness that doesn’t obscure their virtuosity. It wasn’t flashy virtuosity for its own sake. The two can play anything, they’re beyond having to think about fingering or technique. When muscle memory takes care of the playing, they can focus on the music beyond the notes.

They may not have invented the genre of alto and bass flute duets, but the commissions and their performances significantly enlarged the repertoire for that instrumentation. This recital was brief at 40 minutes, but it was not monotonous. 

Before each piece, the performers explained the composer’s narrative, but like all great, transcendent music, the music explained itself better than words.