Some other horror stories involve
flutes that won’t come apart,
and there is the idea that cork tenons
get compressed. I would be glad
to hear that all this is mistaken!
I say no, unless it’s polymer or metal boehm or the like. Woods expand and contract, some more than others, and I suspect that the differing thicknesses of tenon and socket walls have different rates of change/resistance to pressure, too.
Well, all things expand/contract. But wood can split. And I do hear tell of cork becoming permanently compressed. That would be the least of one’s worries.
Hoping Dave Migoya or other experts will chime in here…I’m just erring on the side of caution.
I think the problem with leaving a wooden flute assembled would be moisture that would tend to accumulate in the tenon assembly. This could increase the danger of cracking; I would imagine over time it could actually warp the wood and cause the joint to no longer mate accurately.
Cork would compress over time; wrapped tenon wouldn’t compress but depending on what the wrapping thread was made of, it could rot from the moisture, or even perhaps grow some lovely mold and mildew.
Joints on a metal flute can also freeze up over time; while I have known plenty of flutists–especially teachers–who leave their flute assembled 24/7/365 and keep it on a vertical stand, I have always thought this was asking for trouble.
I do keep my polymer flutes assembled and ready to grab a quick tune on, and I consider that one advantage of having a polymer flute: you can leave it laying around, grab it up, play the fire out of it, lay it back down, and forget it. Nothing else needed–if it gets grungy over time, take it apart and wash it with the dishes.
I love the fire out of the Hammy–and also my antique wooden flute–but I don’t always have much time, and I would wind up playing flute much less if they were my only instruments, because of the care with which they must be handled and the time it takes to dry them out after each playing.
For me, the disassembly and inspection of the timber flute are a meaningful moment, like inspecting and tending to a katana. But I do like the polymers for their resilience: I can go away and come back, do this, clean that, come back again. Very convenient. Playing a wooden flute becomes almost a formal thing by comparison. I like that.
Also I’m playing my maple Sweetheart without dissasembling
or swabbing it–I blush to confess. It’s soaked in tung oil
several times, I’ve learned, which makes it less absorbent.
It’s a swell flute for 250 dollars.
At the end of the day I like to have at least one flute
that’s just there, assembled, that I simply don’t have to
bother about, even though it sounds less good than
flutes I do have to bother about. My lovely Copely has
five pieces and I have the mechanical
skills of a cabbage. Also the struggle in and out of the humidifier, the lid
of which sticks, and then the
desperate hunt for the cork grease…
All the things wise and experienced folks have said about the silliness of polymer (unless you are on a trek to
Everest) are true. But they don’t
understand sloth, torpor, disorganization and terminal
clumsiness, I believe.
I don’t care. I’ve always known, and long ago accepted
cheerfully, that
I wasn’t made of the right stuff. Best
I believe it requires a certain level of sloth and torper to become a truly great musician.
I also once owned a fine five-piece wooden flute and was similarly aggravated. Don’t get me wrong, it sounded fabulous but I wearied of the assembly and disassembly nonsense. When I eventually order my Olwell it will be a two-piece with no tuning slide.
I had planned to say a good deal more on this subject but I think I’ll go have a nap instead.