Well, Mr. Schickele, how's it going today? Let me put it this way. I'm ready. Here's the theme.
[theme: Mozart, Symphony No. 24]
Hello there, I'm Peter Schickele, and this is Schickele Mix, a program dedicated to the proposition that all musics are created equal. Or as Duke Ellington put it, if it sounds good, it is good. And here's a good deal. Our bills are paid by the Corporation for Public Broadcasting and by the National Endowment for the Arts, with additional support from the National Academy of Recording Arts and Sciences, and from this radio station right here, where the fruits of my Sisyphusian labors go to seed, which seeds are then borne aloft on the winds of PRI, Public Radio International. Okay, say we've got this whiz kid who's a terrific pianist and a terrific sight reader, and he's done a lot of chamber music with strings, so in addition to the treble and bass clefs, he can read the alto clef that violas use. Now, he doesn't know anything about score reading or instrumentation, but still, he's a fantastic sight reader, so he ought to be able to read the score of Mozart's first symphony, which only has six lines of music. Two oboes on one line, two French horns on another, then first violins, second violins, violas, and then cellos and basses on the bottom line.
Now, as those of you who are regular listeners to this program know, due to the fact that it's one of my favorite pieces, Mozart's first symphony begins like this. I'm just going to play it on the authentic instrument here.
Now, our whiz kid here, he doesn't have any trouble reading six lines of music at once, but here's what he plays when I put it in front of him. Now,
he may not know anything about score reading, but he knows that that doesn't sound like Mozart. The problem is, our whiz kid doesn't know that the French horns are not notated the way they sound. Mozart wrote this,
knowing that when the horn players played that part, it would come out sounding like this.
That's because the French horn is usually a transposing instrument, which means that the note you write for it has to be different from the note you want to hear. Transposition is one aspect of musical practice that many lay people find to be not only confusing, but downright perverse. Why don't composers and arrangers simply write the notes they want to hear? Why all this obfuscation? Which is a pretty self-descriptive word, isn't it?
Anyway, the basic answer is to make it easier for the players. In two ways. To make it easier to play in different keys, and to make it easier to play all the members of a family of instruments. For instance there are six different sizes of saxophone that have been in fairly common use: the so-called C melody saxophone, and then the soprano, alto, tenor, baritone, and bass. The Four middle ones are the most common these days.
Now if you wanted to play all of them, and composers wrote the exact notes they wanted. You'd have to learn six different sets of fingerings. A different fingering chart for each instrument. To get middle C on the soprano, for instance, you use everything except your pinkies and your left thumb. It's practically at the bottom of the instrument's range.
But on the baritone, middle C is fairly high in the range of the instrument. You just use two fingers and the thumb of the left hand. Completely different fingerings. For those of you who like the family of fingering, you'll have to be constantly reminding yourself which size sax you're playing. But with transposition, any given note on the page always has the same fingering no matter if it's C melody, soprano, alto, tenor, baritone or bass. And all of them, because of that, are notated in the treble clef, even the bass.
One set of fingerings for the whole family.
Now, if the printed music says Middle C, you slap down everything except your left pinky and thumb, and the transposition takes care of the different ranges. Very user-friendly for the player, but it does make for tricky score reading, because, as we've observed, what you see is not what you get.
To illustrate this, I've asked some musicians to come up to the studio here. We've got a string quartet and a saxophone quartet. Thanks for dropping by, folks. Now, I've written a little four-bar melody, and all I did was photocopy it, so exactly the same music is on all eight music stands here in the studio. It starts on the C above middle C. That's the C of face, you know, F-A-C-E in the treble clef.
It's just a little tune I made up off the top of my head. It goes like this.
[music: keyboard demonstration]
Okay, now let's hear it played by the string quartet. The viola and cello don't usually play in the treble clef, but they do sometimes, so they're familiar with it. Okay, folks, if you please.
[music: keyboard demonstration]
Thank you, thank you. And we could all hear that they were playing exactly the same notes that I played on the authentic instrument. And I must say that the four of you have a beautiful tone, just a gorgeous string sound. They call themselves the Midi Quartet, folks. They're named after an area of southern France, and I think it's a name to remember. I think we'll be hearing from them for years to come. Now let's hear the tune, exactly the same music, played by our four saxophonists, soprano, alto, tenor, bari.
It's the same tune here.
[music: keyboard demonstration]
Okay, folks, let's hear it.
[music: keyboard demonstration]
Completely different notes. Sort of sounds like Gregorian chant. And the bizarre thing, score reading-wise speaking, is that we had four different pitch levels going on simultaneously there, but none of them were the pitches as printed on the music paper.
Certain sizes in these instrument families become more popular than others, just because of their tone quality, and the C melody saxophone, which would have given us the original pitches, has, I think, pretty much become extinct, at least for the time being.
[music: keyboard demonstration]
In the 18th
century, which was the spawning ground of the symphony orchestra, wind instruments The instruments were not as sophisticated in their construction as they are now. Trumpets and horns had no valves, which meant that they were more or less restricted to the notes a bugle can play, which meant if you had a symphony in E flat, say, you used trumpets that were built to play the notes of an E flat chord. Well, these trumpets would be useless in a symphony in A major.
None of the notes you'd want would be available. It's available. So you'd have to have another trumpet for pieces in A. Actually with brasses they usually, instead of having a whole bunch of completely different instruments, they'd simply replace one part of the tubing to reduce or increase the total length of the instrument. Now lipping, changing the position of the lips in the brass mouthpiece, is to a valveless trumpet player what fingering is to a woodwind player.
So, instead of asking the trumpeters to learn seven different lipping systems, one for each of the seven key signatures from which 18th century composers almost always chose for their symphonies, it was decided to have the written note C always represent the fundamental tone of the instrument, or one of its octaves, no matter what that tone actually is.
So the relationship among the available notes always looks the same to the player, and the transposition takes care of whatever difference there might be between C and the actual key of the piece. Similarly, 18th century clarinets had many fewer holes and levers than modern clarinets, which meant that it was easy to play in the basic key the clarinet was made in and closely related keys, but quickly got a lot harder when you were in more distant keys.
So, for a symphony in C, you used a clarinet built in C. For a symphony in B flat, a clarinet built in B flat. For a symphony in A, a clarinet built in A. But again, to avoid making the player learn different fingerings for each instrument, you let him pretend to always be playing in C or some other really easy key, and use transposition to square things away with what the rest of the orchestra is playing.
Basically, you're saying to the string players, who always have to play in whatever key the piece is really in, you're saying, hey, let's face it, he's a clarinetist, right? I mean, you can't expect him to handle more than one sharp or flat. It's as if sometime during the 18th century, the devil appeared to Mr. Clarinet and said, Listen, I've got an offer I think you'll find irresistible. You've got to trust me on this. It's a no-lose deal for you.
Here's the setup. I'll fix it so you always play in really easy keys. You won't have to sweat like those slumps in the string section. And all I ask in return, now I know what you're thinking and you're wrong. You can keep your soul. All I want is the souls of all the thousands of conductors who are going to have to read these transposition-ridden scores over the next few centuries, and the composers and arrangers who are going to have to write them.
Well, it's a no-brainer, right? What has Mr. Clarinet got to lose? He'd be a fool to turn it down. Now, the interesting thing is that the devil didn't make that offer to Mr. Flute and Mr. Oboe. Or maybe he did, but they, being instruments with a longer history than that of the clarinet, had too much pride to accept it. Whatever the reason, flutes and oboes are almost always notated at concert pitch, which means what you see is what you get. Well, except when they're in a family way.
The alto flute and the English horn, which is an alto oboe, are transposing instruments. And then there's the D-flat piccolo. Here's the most famous piccolo solo in the world.
Now, Stars & Stripes Forever!, or that section of it, is in A-flat major, which has four flats in the key signature. I assume
that a really good piccolo player could play that solo at concert pitch, but it's a whole lot easier a half a step lower in the key of G, which only has one sharp. So Sousa took pity on the piccoloist. Piccolo-er? Anyway, he wrote it for piccolo in D flat, which sounds an octave and a half step higher than it's written. Which means that the piccolist can pretend he or she is playing in the key of G.
But D-flat piccolos aren't usually used in orchestras. So if you hear Stars & Stripes Forever! played by an orchestra, the chances are good that the whole piece has been transposed down a half step. So this section really is in G, and the piccolo player is playing it the way he practiced it for the band version. No, he doesn't... What? What? What? That's the irrelevancy alarm.
And I am being completely relevant. Okay, wait a minute. It's doing its printout thing here. Okay, let's see what it says here. What's the point? What do you mean, what's the point? Today's show is about transposition and everything I've said has been... Oh man, I can't believe this thing. Talk about attitude.
Okay. What difference does any of this make to someone listening to a piece of music? Yeah, well, there's the rub. Aside from the fact that some of the playing might be better because the instruments are in easy keys, it doesn't make any difference to the audience how instruments are notated. But I like to think that my listeners are curious enough about the mechanics of music, the things... Oh, man, what is this?
Is this something personal here? I mean, are you trying to pick a fight or something? Okay, let's see. It's time for a program ID. Oh, brother. My name is Peter Schickele, and the program is Schickele Mix from PRI, Public Radio International.
Unless you're a devoted fan of the movie actor Michael Caine, you probably don't know that he has a brother named Robert. But unlike Michael, Robert only uses his first initial, you know, like the cartoonist R. Crumb. So he's known as Arcane, which is a good description of the subject of today's program. We're talking about transposition, and specifically, so far, about transposing instruments.
And what makes it such an arcane subject is that it's hard to understand if you don't know anything about music theory and notation, and also, it has so little to do in any direct way with how the music sounds. It's real backstage stuff. But that doesn't mean it's uninteresting. At least I, unlike the irrelevancy alarm, don't think so. My wife and I were once given a tour of a beautiful 18th century opera house in Sweden, and we got to go beneath the stage and see the machinery for changing the scenery.
And I've been under the stage at Radio City Music Hall, too. I love that behind-the-scenes stuff. Now, it's true that transposition is beside the point to listeners, even very analytical listeners. But mastering the Concept is ofgreat importance to conductors and composers. Here are two brief excerpts that represent extremes in the use of transposing instruments.
[music excerpt: Beethoven, Symphony No. 1, part of the Scherzo; London Classical Players, Norrington]
[music excerpt: Stravinsky, The Rite of Spring, ending; Boston Philharmonic, Zander]
Part of the Scherzo of Beethoven's First Symphony played by Roger Norrington and the London Classical Players and the end of Stravinsky's The Rite of Spring with the Boston Philharmonic under the direction of Benjamin Zander, whose father, it sounds like, was in the front row of the audience. The Beethoven is in the key of C and has no transposing instruments whatsoever.
The clarinets, trumpets, and horns are all in C, which means when it's written C, you're going to hear C. By the way, when I say that there are no transposing instruments, I'm ignoring octave transpositions. I should perhaps mention, for instance, that string basses sound the same note that's written but an octave lower, and the regular piccolo sounds an octave higher than written. That's essentially because their ranges are so extreme.
The piccolo goes so far above the treble clef and the bass so far below the bass clef that it would be tedious and confusing to write all those ledger lines, those little added staff lines. Also, with basses, it means that they can double the cellos, that is, they can read the same part the cellos read, but be sounding an octave lower, producing that rich bass line that is characteristic of classical orchestral writing. Anyway, the Stravinsky, in contrast to the Beethoven, has 17 transposing instruments, using six different transpositions.
I've got the score here, and in addition to instruments that sound as they're written, we've got an Alto flute and an English horn and a little clarinet in E flat, three B flat clarinets, a bass clarinet in the transposing there, we've got eight horns in F, we've got a little trumpet in D, and we've got a bass trumpet in E flat.
What that means when I say that it's a bass trumpet in E-flat is that if the printed music has a C, you're actually going to hear E-flat. Okay, now, this makes for really complicated score reading. Remember I said that Mozart's first symphony was written on six lines of music? Well, the end of the Stravinsky score here has 29 lines of music, 11 of them for transposing instruments, which means that the notes you see on the page are not what you're going to hear.
They're using six different transpositions. We've got a musical style that has much less redundancy, harmonically speaking, than Mozart's. I'm telling you, it's not your average bedtime reading. You know, it's not your P.D. James. It got so daunting that some composers, Prokofiev among them, started writing their scores at concert pitch to make them easier to read In other
words, the individual players had the same transposed parts that they've always had, but the score has the notes that you actually are going to hear. But you know, being a profoundly lazy soul, it's occurred to me that one could have some fun with this idea of writing out one melody and giving it to differently transposing instruments.
I let the MIDI string quartet and three of the saxophone players go but now I've got six more players here in the studio. We've got seven completely different transpositions represented here now. We've got a D flat piccolo which means a written C is going to sound D flat. We've got a D trumpet which means C is going to actually sound D. An A clarinet written C is going to sound A. An alto flute A written C is going to sound G.
We've got an English horn. A written C is going to sound F.
Then we've got our Alto saxophone, written C, sounds E flat. And then finally a bass clarinet, written C, sounds this B flat. Okay now, once again, I've written out a little melody, starting on the C above middle C, and everybody has a photocopy of that melody in front of them. And also, like before with the saxes, the note you will not hear in the first chord is the note I wrote, C.
But I'll bet these seven transpositions are going to sound good on this theme. Okay, folks, let's see. There's so many of us, I think I'd better conduct. Here we go.
[music: keyboard demonstration, one melody in seven transpositions]
Pretty cool, huh? Sounds like one of those Stan Kenton charts from the late 40s. House of Formica. Hey, I thought of another possible use of this technique. What if Bela Bartok had written his Concerto for Orchestra a decade earlier than he actually did? I can imagine somebody at the Disney studio thinking that the second movement, the games of the couples, might be good film fodder.
That's the piece in which pairs of wind instruments play at a set interval from each other. The bassoons are always a minor sixth apart, the oboes a minor third, the clarinets a minor seventh, the flutes a perfect fifth, and finally, the trumpets at a major second from each other. So here, in a Schickele Mix exclusive, is the world premiere of a radio pseudo-docu-dramatic reenactment
[music excerpt: Bartok, Concerto for Orchestra; Los Angeles Philharmonic Orchestra/Previn]
Our scene takes place in a large recording studio. In the studio proper, we see the Philadelphia Orchestra and, on the podium, its conductor, Leopold Stokowski. In the control room are Walt Disney, Bela Bartok, a recording engineer, and the music producer, Cliff Cleff. Known in the trade as Trouble As we join them, Clef is speaking Okay, now the only thing we've got left to record today Is the section with the two trumpets Where they're playing at parallel seconds You know, one step apart from each other So it sounds wrong but cute, you know what I mean?
Mr. Disney, this is the scene with the two wombats You know, where the boy wombat is putting the make on the girl And she's playing hard to get You know, he tries to tickle her And she pushes him off a cliff He goes to kiss her She ducks behind a hornet's nest You know, but in the end of the scene They're in a clinch and the butterflies are flying around them, you know, in the shape of a heart. Okay, let's do this. We're almost out of time, so, who are you? Uh, I'm the music librarian, yup yup yup yup Yeah, so?
Well, I'm afraid we've got a bit of a problem A bit of a problem? I don't like problems Let me tell you, pal, if I've got a problem, you've got a problem They don't call me Trouble Clef for nothing, so what is the problem? Well, uh, we can't find the first trumpet part, nope nope nope Ah, wait a minute, wait a minute, hold on here You're telling me that we're doing a section featuring the two trumpets And you, what's your name? Uh, Mortimer. You're the music librarian, right, Mortimer? And you can't find the trumpet parts? Uh, just the first trumpet part, sir.
We got the second trumpet part. Okay, I'll deal with you later. We're almost out of time here. Bela, baby, how long is it going to take to copy out the first trumpet part from the score? That won't be necessary. Uh, what do you mean it won't be necessary? We got to have both trumpets playing. The second trumpet part will suffice. Hey, little baby, I got to figure you know what you're talking about. But how's that going to work? Okay, actually, wait a minute. Don't tell me. Tell the trumpet players.
Just push that talkback button, and they'll hear you out in the studio.
Both players play off the same part. The second player plays on the B-flat trumpet. And the first player uses the C-trombet. Okay, you heard him, fellas. Let's do it. Now, you start at the place that's indicated. We'll fade you up in here, and then we'll let you know when we fade it out. Stokey Baby, take it away.
[music excerpt: Bartok, Concerto for Orchestra; Los Angeles Philharmonic Orchestra/Previn]
That sounds like a rap to me. Bela Bubala, you saved the day. I mean, you saved Mr. Disney here a lot of money. Money he can ill afford to squander. Hey, everybody, I think we ought to thank our musical friend here in a musical way. Oh, Lordy, pick a Bela Bartok. Oh, Lordy, pick a Bela. Hey, come on, guys.
[music excerpt: Bartok, Concerto for Orchestra; Los Angeles Philharmonic Orchestra/Previn]
Perfectly plausible. That was actually in this radio pseudo-docudramatic reenactment, Andre Previn and the L.A. Philharmonic. One of the most amazing transposition stories I've heard concerns a recording of the Stravinsky Septet. Now, I wasn't there myself, folks, so I can't swear to this. But as I heard it, Stravinsky was at the session.
He was getting pretty old by then, and the Septet is a work that was written when he was becoming more and more influenced by the atonal and highly serialized, highly mathematically oriented music of Anton Webern. For some reason, they recorded the last movement first. Except for the cadences at the ends of the sections, this is a spiky, highly chromatic piece that doesn't have a sense of being in any particular key. This
[music excerpt: Stravinsky, "Septet"; European Soloists Ensemble/Ashkenazy]
is the gig from Stravinsky's Septet, played by the European Soloists Ensemble. This is not, by the way, the recording that this anecdote is about. Going back to the session in the anecdote, having done that last movement, they turned to the first movement. Now, the first movement of the septet is very neoclassical, not only rhythmically, like the last movement, but melodically and harmonically as well.
Unlike the tonal thicket of the Sieg, the first movement begins in a clear key, with everybody playing the note A.
[music excerpt: Stravinsky, "Septet"; European Soloists Ensemble/Ashkenazy]
Well, going back to the session of our story, as soon as he played the first note, and it wasn't a unison with everybody else, The clarinetist realized with horror that he was using the wrong clarinet. He was playing his B-flat clarinet, and he should have been playing his A clarinet all along, which meant that every single note he had played in the G in the last movement was wrong.
But nobody, including the composer, had noticed or had said anything. So he switched clarinets, and they did the first movement, and at the break, he took the producer aside and told him what had happened. The producer thought a bit and then went back into the control room. He told Stravinsky that they'd had a technical problem with the equipment and the tape of the gig wouldn't be usable, so they'd have to record it again. Remember, you didn't hear it here first.
Now, to give you an idea of how very wrong that should have sounded to the composer, If the story is true, let's listen to the. The first entrance of the soloist in Mozart's clarinet concerto.
[music excerpt: Mozart, Clarinet Concerto in A (K 622); Keith Dwyer/Stuttgart Festival Orchestra/Kahn]
That was Keith Dwyer and the Stuttgart Festival Orchestra conducted by Emil Kahn. Now, the Mozart Concerto is also for A clarinet. As a matter of fact, Mozart originally called the piece Take the A clarinet. Just kidding there, folks. It's also for A clarinet. Now, what if Keith Dwyer had mistakenly taken out his B-flat clarinet for the session instead of the A? This is what it would have sounded like.
[music: Mozart, Clarinet Concerto in A (K. 622), opening, doctored by Schickele: the solo replayed on the keyboard a half step off]
If Mozart had been in the control room, do you think he would have noticed? That, of course, was not Keith Dwyer playing this time. That I did with the help of the authentic instrument. His tone is certainly a lot better than that of the authentic instrument in this case. Anyway, the implication of the Stravinsky story, of course, is not only that he was getting to be a bit over the hill, but that he didn't hear his newer atonal music in his head as accurately or as well as he heard his older stuff.
Nor did the producer, for that matter. Nor did I, but of course I wasn't there. But I'm here, and I'm still Peter Schickele. And the program is still Schickele Mix from PRI, Public Radio International.
Our show today is called What You See Is Not What You Get. We're talking about transposition. Another story involving transposition, It seems too good to be true to me, but who knows, is about the orchestra that was playing Mozart's G minor Symphony under a guest conductor who, they suspected, really had a tin ear. Here's the way Symphony No. 40 starts.
[music excerpt: Mozart, Symphony No. 40 in G minor (K. 550), opening; Prague Chamber Orchestra, Mackerras]
Okay, so the orchestra gets together and decides to pull a trick on this conductor and see if he notices. You know, there's that place where it builds up, and then a pause before the second theme. So, the orchestra agreed that everybody would play their part one half-step lower than it was written until they got to the second theme, then they'd play it as written.
The effect is that the music shifts up a half-step, but because that shift happens, as it were, during the pause, they thought he might not notice. Well, would you?
[music excerpt: Mozart, Symphony No. 40 in G minor (K. 550), opening; Academy of Ancient Music, Schröder, Hogwood]
[music excerpt: Mozart, Symphony No. 40 in G minor (K. 550), opening; Prague Chamber Orchestra, Mackerras]
Now, the trouble with that story is that I don't know how it turned out. I don't know whether he noticed it or not, and as a matter of fact, I'm not sure I believe the story, because to get a whole orchestra to play really perfectly, transposing its sight, well, maybe they could do it. Anyway, it's a good story. Actually, that shift wasn't a full-blooded half-step.
What I did for that prank was use an original instruments recording for the beginning, because tuning A was almost a half-step lower in Mozart's day than it is now. And then I shifted to a modern instrument's performance for the second theme. Here's a very clear comparison between Mozart's tuning level and today's.
[music excerpt: Mozart, Symphony No. 41 in C (K. 551); Academy of Ancient Music, Schröder, Hogwood]
[music excerpt: Mozart, Symphony No. 41 in C (K. 551); Chicago Symphony Orchestra, Levine]
So, not only do composers use transposition, so does history. Basically, what transposition means is that you keep the relationships among the notes constant, but you start on a different pitch level.
[music excerpt: Mozart, Symphony No. 41 in C (K. 551); Chicago Symphony Orchestra, Levine]
You know, it's sort of like Napoleon on an escalator. Seen from the ground, he gets higher or lower, but he's always Napoleon.
That may be the worst analogy since Aristophanes compared playing a slot machine to eating a roll of Necco wafers. Anyway, one job description that often includes the ability to transpose on demand is song accompanist. Singers find a song too high or too low. They want it in a key that's comfortable for them. And some pianists are very adept at playing a song in any key you ask for, sometimes even a song they've never read before. Now some people object to that practice in classical music. I think I read somewhere that Ezra Pound was one of them. They feel that the character of the song, the piano part, as well as the voice part, changes too much when moved up or down are you one of them here's the same song sung twice the second time a major third lower than the first
[music: Strauss, "Allerseelen," Op. 10, in E-flat major; Barbara Hendricks, Wolfgang Sawallisch]
[music: Strauss, "Allerseelen," Op. 10, in B major; Brigitte Fassbaender, Irwin Gage]
Richard Strauss. The song is called Allerseelen, All Souls' Day, and it was sung first in E-flat major by Barbara Hendricks with Wolfgang Sawallisch at the piano, and then by Brigitte Fassbaender in B major, accompanied by Irwin Gage. Well, don't look at me. I'm not sure how I feel about this business of transposing art songs. I think the people who care most probably have perfect pitch, which I don't.
By the way, these days, of course, they have computers to transpose. There are music stores where you can tell the machine what song you want the sheet music for and what key you want it in, and the machine does the transposition and prints it out. Of course, there are older, simpler transposing machines, too. If you've ever seen a folk guitarist put a capo on her guitar, you know, a bar that fits across the strings with a clamp to hold it in place, you've seen a transposing device.
It enables her to play a song in some ridiculously difficult key like F sharp major, but do the fingerings as if it were in a nice, friendly D major. And Irving Berlin, who only played in one key, had a piano with a sort of gear shift mechanism that allowed him to make the piano sound in whatever key he wanted for that song, even though he himself never budged from his usual key on the keyboard. I think it's in the Smithsonian now, that piano.
So in other words, I think he always played on the black keys in F sharp major. So in other words, if he played this...
[music: keyboard demonstration]
He could shift his little gear thing there and make it sound like this.
[theme: Mozart, Symphony No. 24]
That's Schickele Mix. No, wait a minute. Let me transpose that up a bit. And that's Schickele Mix for this week. Our program is made possible with funds provided by the Corporation for Public Broadcasting and by the National Endowment for the Arts, with additional support from the National Academy of Recording Arts and Sciences, and by this radio station.
We'll tell you in a moment how you can get an official playlist of all the music on today's program with album numbers and everything. Just refer to the program number. This is program number 142. And this is Peter Schickele saying goodbye and reminding you that it don't mean a thing if it ain't got that certain je ne sais quoi. You're looking good. See you next week.
[theme: Mozart, Symphony No. 24]
If you'd like a copy of that playlist I mentioned, send a stamped self-addressed envelope to Schickele Mix. That's Schickele, Schickele Mix. Care of Public Radio International, 100 North 6th Street, Suite 900A, Minneapolis, Minnesota, 55403.