Colin Alexander: from resembling to reassembling the human voice on the cello

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It’s a phrase that we’ve all heard plenty of times, and one which probably annoys violinists, violists and bassists, but it still rings true: the cello is the instrument that most resembles the human voice. The voice when it sings that is, not when we’re calling for a takeaway. And similarly to how we can manipulate our singing voices in many ways to suit whichever music we are performing, the cello can be technically pushed and pulled in all sorts of directions to express or convey anything from sorrow through madness to tranquility.

There are many pieces in which a cellist must make magical timbres and colours appear that mimic perhaps flutes, percussion or birdsong, but not the voice. And as much as the Bach Suites are seen as the foundation of the cello repertoire and must at many times be played with a sense of cantabile, the instrument does not sound particularly similar to the song of a human in these preludes and dances full of arpeggios, ringing open strings and double stops.

To really try and replicate a singer, a cellist must learn the art of sustaining the sound in the bow arm while controlling the smoothness of shifting and vibrato required to offer a successful rendition of, for example, Rachmaninov’s Vocalise. In a way, the right hand is the breath and the left is the larynx - to an extent! And to best copy the manner in which a singer would sing Vocalise, a cellist must listen to a great recording and focus on how each and every note is approached from beginning to end with awareness to every inflection and nuance.

I remember, when learning an arrangement of Brahms’ ‘Two Songs Op. 91’, becoming entranced with the shape of each line and curve delivered by the spellbinding voice of American contralto Marian Anderson in her 1941 recording with William Primrose and Franz Rupp - the most rewarding homework imaginable! 

Imitating this more romantic way of singing is relatively natural and ‘cellistic’ as we love, famously, to slide and let our sound blossom with vibrato. But how about the singing of early music specialists such as the Hilliard Ensemble? Their recordings of the music of John Dunstable (c.1390 - 1453) have long been a personal favourite of mine since they first bowled me over many years ago when I heard them as a student.

The music itself has a craft, beauty and humility that for me is perhaps unmatched by anyone since and it is for this reason that I first wanted to try performing it with an ensemble of cellos. Written for three or sometimes four male voices, Dunstable’s works sit in the perfect range for the cello - never too high and with many natural overtones. But to play this music ‘cellistically’ would be unforgivable! Not only in the romantic or classical sense but it also cannot be approached like music for viol consort with that physicality and strained yearning which works so beautifully for the extraordinary music of William Lawes, for example.

Dunstable’s is vocal music and, to respectfully perform it, the cello must sound like a voice. Listen to the Hilliard Ensemble and you will hear not only a remarkable purity of tone, but also a vibrato that always sits somehow within the sound; expressively present yet never attention-grabbing and gently relaxed to almost none when the harmony is at its most open and beautifully simple.

I say ‘almost none’ because sound is of course vibration and, although it can be incredibly effective to go for that ‘non vibrato’ tone in many different pieces of music, as soon as you bow the string there is a natural oscillation in the sound wave but how you add to that with the left hand is where much of the artistry lies.

You will hear incredibly long, sostenuto lines where the notes link together without slides but also without portato (gaps in-between) - an easy pitfall for string players wishing to play ‘cleanly’.

To achieve this on the cello requires not only a very careful and sometimes unusual choice of fingerings but a very even and steady rate of bow distribution, resulting in an appropriate ‘purity of tone,’ which demands a great deal of practice - alongside some sneaky mid-phrase bow changes! But as much work as is required to avoid ‘getting in the way of the music,’ it’s still vital to ‘play it like you mean it’ - a combination I feel I may never finish trying to master. 

Transcribing Dunstable’s music for cello trio (or quartet) is a relatively simple task thanks to the mammoth effort of Manfred Bukofzer (gratias aeternas!) in editing a collection of the complete surviving works (first published in 1953) in modern notation, of which I own a copy. Bowing the parts is a crucial step to ensure the lines overlap seamlessly with the ‘breaths’ as carefully placed as the Hilliard Ensemble’s.

Discovering that Dunstable’s music was indeed very rewarding to perform with cello trio naturally led me to find more vocal music that would work well for the same ensemble from later composers who were greatly influenced by him, such as Josquin, Ockeghem and Byrd.

Now we in the Early Chorus Cello Ensemble, with the inclusion of a collection of contemporary works which harness and celebrate the natural resonances of the cello (thanks to Lara Agar, John Lely and Soosan Lolavar, among others), have enough repertoire to begin sharing this music in concerts starting in 2026. Our intention is to create programmes with a soundscape that is soothingly sonorous, peaceful and meditative.