Festival of American Fiddle Tunes/Paul Conklin

 

Spring 2005

ARTICLES

COLUMNS

  • The Practicing Fiddler: A Conversation with Julie Lyonn Lieberman, by Hollis Taylor
  • Violin Makers: Peter Van Arsdale -- Building Violins with Attitude, by Michael Simmons
  • In Memoriam: Ralph Blizard
  • Fiddle Tune History: The Misses Johnston, by Andrew Kuntz
  • On Improvisation: The Swinging Style of Svend Asmussen, by Paul Anastasio
  • Cross-Canada Fiddle Tour: New Brunswick's Ivan & Vivian Hicks, by Gordon Stobbe
  • Knotting the Chord: Explorations in Accompanying Traditional Fiddle Music -- Building an Accompaniment, by Mark Simos

TUNES

  • Swing Manouche, by Svend Asmussen; transcribed by Jim Kirland and Paul Anastasio
  • Dixie, transcribed by Jim Wood (Fiddle Music of the Civil War)
  • The Girl I Left Behind Me, transcribed by Jim Wood (Fiddle Music of the Civil War)
  • The Bonnie Blue Flag, transcribed by Jim Wood (Fiddle Music of the Civil War)
  • Secesh, transcribed by Jim Wood (Fiddle Music of the Civil War)
  • Seneca Square Dance, transcribed by Jim Wood (Fiddle Music of the Civil War)
  • Kingdom Coming, transcribed by Jim Wood (Fiddle Music of the Civil War)
  • The String Trader, by Brian Hebert
  • Miss Johnston of Hilton (Fiddle Tune History)
  • Miss Lucy Johnston's Compliments to Niel Gow (Fiddle Tune History)
  • The Bridegroom Grat (Fiddle Tune History)
  • Jim the Fiddle Maker, by Ivan Hicks (Cross-Canada Fiddle Tour)
  • The Silver Spear (Knotting the Chord)

 

ARTICLE EXCERPTS

. photo: Morten Langkilde, Politiken

Svend Asmussen: Phenomenal Jazz Fiddler

By Richard J. Brooks

Svend Asmussen, the world-renown jazz violinist, is by all measures a most remarkable person. This spry eighty-eight year old is still performing! I was thrilled to see his two superb performances at the Oslo Jazz Festival on August 11 and 12, 2003. He has been in the music and entertainment business for over seventy years and has recorded over thirty albums.

Svend was arrested by the Nazis in 1943, and only a stroke of luck saved his life. As a result, the world has benefited from his artistry as a versatile entertainer and artist: a jazz violinist and singer, a band leader and arranger, a film actor, and an artist (paintings and drawings). His movies are still shown regularly on Danish television. There is even a winding street named after him on the isle of Bornholm in Denmark. Its name is the Danish equivalent of "Asmussen Swing."

His latest CD, Still Fiddling, was released in 2002 and is currently available. Asmussen has played jazz violin with such jazz greats as Fats Waller, the Mills Brothers, Josephine Baker, Edith Piaf, Benny Goodman, Duke Ellington, Joe Venuti, Stéphane Grappelli, Bucky Pizzarelli, John Lewis, Kenny Drew, Niels-Henning Ørsted Pedersen, Lionel Hampton, Toots Thielemans, Alice Babs, and Ulrik Neumann.

On April 17 and 18, 2002, I was honored to interview him at his home in Copenhagen, Denmark. He shared many personal and musical experiences with me, and I left with an even greater appreciation for one of the greatest talents I have ever met. While Svend said he had forgotten a lot, his memory for details amazed me.

Svend (pronounced "Sven," the "d" is silent) Asmussen's jazz violin style is truly unique and instantly recognizable. Stéphane Grappelli once told my friend Ed Wadsworth (violin with Hot Strings of New Orleans) that Svend was his favorite jazz violinist -- a master of the odd interval. That is because his musical phrasings, or choice of notes, are based on the styles of horn players, not string players. Just as horn players must pause in order to breathe, pauses accent their playing.

Svend Discovers Jazz

Svend was born into a musical family on February 28, 1916, in Copenhagen, Denmark to parents of German origin. Svend had three brothers (Ernst, Johan, Andrea) and a sister (Grethe). At twelve, Ernst gave up on the violin because it was "no fun to watch his seven year old brother surpass his abilities so quickly," so he took up the piano [Bent Henius' 1963 biography of Svend Asmussen].

Among Svend's earliest jazz recollections was that of the great saxophonist Coleman Hawkins playing "Talk of the Town" on the piano in Svend's family living room. Svend was sixteen, and Hawkins had a great time humoring Svend about his ukulele and toy saxophone! Svend began violin lessons when he was seven years old, but by sixteen, he stopped his formal musical training.

This was also around the time when Svend first heard the 1927-1928 recordings made by Joe Venuti, the father of jazz violin, and Eddie Lang. Svend was "absolutely impressed." Svend mastered Joe's four-string violin technique: the bow is taken apart, the bow stick is placed under the violin, and the bow hair is placed over the four strings, allowing all strings to be played simultaneously. Svend was very well-known locally because of his "trick" fiddling, which helped to establish his reputation as a very talented musician. By the time Svend was nineteen, he was becoming a known musician playing at dances.

Svend began his professional career in 1933, singing and playing violin and vibes [online profile at www.oldies.com/artist/view.cfm/id/3400.html]. His first recordings date back to 1934. Svend's solos are reminiscent of Joe Venuti and Eddie Lang's "Stringing the Blues" made in the late 1920s. However, his musical life turned upside down the following year when he heard Stuff Smith. Stuff later became a personal friend. "He's still my man," Svend said. Stuff changed Svend's way of thinking about music: "Yes, you know -- the phrasing to play jazz on the violin. Stuff -- he didn't really treat the violin as a violin. He treated it as a horn and as a vocal. That's what I try to do. When I play ballads, I try to play as Sarah Vaughan sounded, or Dinah Washington. When I play a jazz number, I try to sound like Lester Young or Clark Terry."

Svend wasn't expected to be a professional musician. Svend was supposed to be a sculptor and later, a dentist. When his interest in art, sculpture, and science diminished because of his musical activities, his parents suggested a career as a dentist. After one year at dentistry school around the age of twenty, Svend said to his parents: "I can't stand that any longer. I can't see my future as a dentist." At the same time, he was developing a reputation and earning money as a musician.

In a compromise with his parents, however, he returned to the original plan to be a sculptor and attended the Royal Academy in Copenhagen. During one of his sculpture classes, the director of the academy mentioned to him that he had seen a newspaper article about his playing dance music at a restaurant. When the director learned that Svend was earning twice as much as he was as the Academy Director, he encouraged Svend to continue playing!

Svend's technique and style (his choice of notes) is astounding. His virtuosity was recognized and appreciated by all the jazz greats with whom he played. His accomplishments are even more remarkable when one realizes that he is basically self-taught. When asked whether he ever considered a career in classical music because of his outstanding technique, his reply was, "My technique is not for classical playing. The real classical technique you must acquire between your seventh and twelfth years -- inside those five years. That's the period where you have to study eight hours every day. And I studied only fifteen minutes a week [for his weekly lessons]."

Multi-Instrumentalist and Multi-Stylist

Svend plays many instruments besides the violin, and many other styles besides swing jazz. His father used to bring home records from Budapest. Svend was first introduced to new musical styles in 1937, at a local club in Copenhagen that booked a Hungarian Gypsy orchestra and a Brazilian music band.

In 1938, he played swing dance music on a Scandinavian cruise ship. Those were luxury cruises lasting for months at a time, and were for very wealthy travelers. Many of the big names in jazz worked on luxury cruise ships. Svend said that in all of his worldly travels, the best food he ate was aboard those ships.

Josephine Baker was also performing on that 1938 cruise ship along with a Brazilian drummer from Rio de Janeiro. This is where he first learned this style of music, and where he took lessons from a tambourine player during intermissions.

His facility at this style is evident in three tunes he wrote: "Fiddler In Rio" and "Calypso Colombo" [CD: Fiddling Around, 1993, Imogena IGCD 039], and "Cocoanut Calypso" [CD: At Slukafter, 1989, Phontastic PHONT-NCD 8804]. Svend also recorded "Limehouse Blues" and "Sweet Sue" with the great Argentinean guitarist Oscar Aleman [two CDs: Acoustic Disc ACD 29]. Svend modestly remarked, "I know a few things about Brazilian rhythm and Argentine tangos."

Svend also plays the alto violin (like an enlarged viola tuned the same as a viola), tenor violin (a baroque instrument tuned one octave below a violin; its size is between a viola and a cello), viola, cello, bass, guitar, mandolin, piano, vibraphone, flute, standard drums and conga drums, and the musical saw. In 1964, he and Alice Babs, the famous Swedish singer, were awarded the best European album of the year for their LP Scandinavian Songs with Alice and Svend. On it, Svend played all the instruments and arranged all the songs. It was recorded with about twenty-five overdubs and mixed on three- and five-track multi-track tape recorders under Svend's supervision.

Multi-track recordings were made possible by the German invention of the tape recorder, discovered at the end of WWII, and by Les Paul's invention of sound-on-sound recording. Les Paul also invented the solid-body electric guitar in 1951. He is alive and well today at eighty-eight (born the same year as Svend), and occasionally still performs in New York. Svend was an early experimenter of musical electronic effects along with his contemporary Les Paul. In the 1950s, Svend was experimenting with overdubbing on four-track machines in order to supplement his on-stage performances, and with Wa-Wa pedals that he used with Toots Thielemans ["Toots and Svend" or "Yesterday and Today," 1972] and on the Resource LPs [Resource, Asmussen/Thigpen Quartet, recorded 1973, SONET SLP-2551].

The Consummate Entertainer

Svend is a consummate entertainer and is not satisfied with just being a fiddler and band leader. His rapport with the audience is legendary and humor pervaded his shows. Svend said, "They pay just to watch. If they don't have a good time, you can't expect them to come next time." His on-stage antics would have the audience all shaking hands with their neighbors.

Using his multi-track tape recorder, Svend recorded backgrounds for many on-stage performances during the '50s and '60s. Examples include orchestrations with Svend recording all the string parts, five harmony voices of Alice Babs so she could accompany herself on the sixth (middle) part, and special sound effects for the band's skits which were followed by songs related to the skit.

Svend's band practiced hard to synchronize the skit with the pre-recorded sound effects. Recordings of horses and guns accompanied skits of western brawls followed by western-like songs such as "Ole Oleanna" [En Kvall med Svend & Ulrik, 1962, RCA International] and "Ten Thousand Miles." The following is an excerpt from a 1966 show performed in Glassalen (the Glass Hall) at Tivoli. The band members are dressed in western costumes and hats.

[Talking to a costumed band member:] Hey you. You didn't clap your hands. Maybe you didn't like the sooooong [long pause]. I suppose you don't know my pardner, Stinker, Whisky Stinker. the Smiling Shotgun. [Huge audience laugh] He's a nice kid. He's willing to shoot his mother for ten dollars. Nice kid. Five dollars. Hey master -- mister. Excuse me master – mister. [Audience laughs] Maybe you like flowers. Flowers, you know -- the multicolored stuff outside. Stinker. The gentleman likes flowers [to the audience]. [Loud gunshot with ricochet sound. Guy falls down sound] You'll get flowers -- tomorrow. [Audience laughs]

[Svend plays an old-time sounding square dance fiddle tune with shuffle bow followed by these syncopated words: Come on pardner, that's no fun, better put down your shootin' gun. Tune your fiddle, join the band, the best band in all Texas land. Wonderful music made by me, in the Death Band Valley Symphony. Come on ladies, swing your skirts, don't mind about dust and dirt. [More fiddling]

In another skit in the same show, Svend practices his tennis using his fiddle as the racket. Svend swings his fiddle and the audience hears the pre-recorded sound of a tennis ball being hit. After several hits, we hear the loud sound of glass breaking everywhere. The joke is a huge success as it was performed at Glassalen, the glass hall, in Tivoli.

The most ingenious and humorous skit that I've heard about is one where the audience is able to hear the thoughts of the band members. The house lights are turned off and a spotlight shines on Svend's face. He asks the audience to concentrate on his thoughts because there will always be some who misunderstand him. With the spotlight on him, Svend slowly plays the classical melodramatic-sounding "Avant de Mourir." In the background, a pre-recorded voice slowly speaks "Svend's thoughts" in a deep tone and in Danish: "I'm wasting my talents on this audience. They don't really understand my music." The spotlight shifts to the bass player who is playing along with the slow tune and the voice offers his thoughts. He is only thinking about eating food and what his next meal will be. The spotlight moves to the vibraphone player who is only thinking about money for his family and how stingy Svend is about paying his band. At last, the spotlight moves to the drummer and the audience hears a can with rocks banging away -- an empty head.

When asked where he gets his ideas, Svend said, "I had a lot of thinking about ideas, inspiration from different fields, from other kinds of music, like the idea of the audience hearing our thoughts. I did imitations of Italian dance orchestras. I thought of how to dream up funny situations based on music, so musicians always would find it interesting, and people who were not musical had something to laugh at at the same time. My trouble was always to find new ideas -- one a year at least, for a completely new thing. It's difficult in a small country with the same audience always. The press are always after you to renew yourself."

...

[Richard Brooks lives in Palo Alto, California, and works in high-tech in Silicon Valley. He is active in the Santa Clara Valley Fiddlers Association, and plays bluegrass, swing jazz, and as many Svend licks as he can.]

 

Don Pedro Dimas: Rescuing Purépecha Music and Dance in Michoacán

By Zaidee Stavely

The Casa de Artesanías in Morelia, Michoacán, is made up of many small rooms, each one replete with crafts from a different town or region of the state. In Paracho, they make instruments, in Uruapan, wooden masks, in Santa Clara del Cobre, copper knickknacks. In the shop with crafts from Ichupio, where the people make animals, baskets, and ornaments out of dried reeds from Lake Pátzcuaro, sits a fiddler, playing away in the shadows just inside the door.

Don Pedro Dimas, the owner of this shop, is something of a legend around these parts. Not only does he play here in his shop, but also all around Lake Pátzcuaro for parties and events, as well as composing Purépecha tunes in the traditional style. Many times, young people can be found here in Artesanías, trying to play along with Don Pedro. Indeed, Don Pedro has his share of followers in the United States as well, after visiting several music camps and sharing Purépecha music with the other side of the border.

The music Don Pedro plays with his family string band, "Mirando el Lago" (Gazing at the Lake), is traditional indigenous music from the Purépecha communities of Michoacán. Purépecha tunes combine sweet singing notes that go up and down in harmony on two fiddles, played by Don Pedro and his friend Don Rafa, with long-bowed high notes and sometimes plucking of the fiddle strings. On occasion, the bow moves slowly and then sounds as if it slides down on an offbeat.

A fast-paced rhythm is added by Don Pedro's sons Miguel and Hermenegildo on vihuela and guitar and his son-in-law Fidel Estanislado on tololoche, or Mexican bass. Don Pedro and his family are all from Ichupio, a small village community made up of houses sprinkled along the hillside above Lake Pátzcuaro here in Michoacán. Less than ten minutes away is Tzintzuntzan, a larger town famous for its pre-Hispanic ruins. Don Pedro is so well-known here that when he walks down the street, passersby call to him or extend their hands.

Although Don Pedro only attended two years of elementary school, he not only knows how to read and write in Spanish, but also in Purépecha. After he quit school to help herd his family's cows, a man who had studied in Mexico City came to Ichupio to finish his thesis. He would go alone up into the hills and write notes in a notebook, recalls the fiddler, and he had a camera with which to take black and white pictures.

One day he told Pedro, "I'm going to leave on Saturday and come back on Sunday, and I'm going to bring you a book so you can study." The book was in Purépecha, and with it, Don Pedro taught himself to read in his native language. As with most indigenous languages in Mexico, almost all people in Don Pedro's village of Ichupio except for some small children speak the language, but few people know how to write or read it. The alphabet first used for Purépecha, says Don Pedro, which used letters such as an N with a long curving leg and an S with a V on top to make a "Sh" sound, no longer exists.

Growing up in his small village, Don Pedro saw his people's music begin to fade. He says people had begun to listen to songs instead of traditional Purépecha tunes. He sees his composition of music and dance as "a form of rescue."

The first time Don Pedro saw a violin was around 1948 when string bands would play for the festivals of Corpus Christi. "I thought the violin was really pretty, and I got an itch to learn, but I didn't have any instruments," he recounts. Between 1949 and 1950, when Don Pedro was around fifteen or sixteen years old, he helped organized a danza azteca, or stylized indigenous dance where the dancers wear headdresses and buckles around their ankles. He got a group of dancers together, but there wasn't anybody to play. Pedro's father, who knew how to play cello, bought two mandolins, and the young Pedro learned by watching others. When he finally got a violin, he learned to tune and play relatively quickly because of his experience on the mandolin.

Over the years, Don Pedro played with several different bands, all of which added something to his talent and style. Around 1952, he began to play with a group from Santa Fe de la Laguna, including a man named Rafael Medina, who later became Don Pedro's second violinist. At that time, Don Pedro remembers, people only liked to listen to Purépecha music to dance. At a typical wedding, birthday party or baptism, the group would play polkas and paso dobles, saving the traditional Purépecha tunes until after the people were finished eating. Then they would break out the fast-paced traditional abajeños so they could dance.

Don Pedro says he learned the most about violin technique with a mariachi group in Tzintzuntzan, which he also joined in the 1950s: "I began to learn more there, because they played songs in A, in E major, in F major, or any other tuning, according to the song." But when the group went to Mexico City to try their luck in the late 1960s, Don Pedro stayed behind. He had a wife and four children to take care of, and he was still living in Ichupio, making his living as a fisherman and a farmer of corn, wheat, and beans.

...

Before moving to Morelia, Don Pedro began to form his own group, around 1970. His son-in-law Fidel recalls, "After I got married to Ofelia, I would go fishing with Don Pedro. Afterward, we would come back from the lake and he would start playing. He told me to grab an instrument and I learned." First, Don Pedro taught his oldest son Hermenegildo how to play a small requinto, teaching Fidel the deep guitarrón and later tololoche. At that time, Don Pedro's youngest son Miguel was a small child, excelling at dancing, and it was not until later that he began to play the vihuela.

Because Don Pedro is an excellent musician and composer, one would never think the violin was his second love. But there was a reason that he started to play Purépecha music, and it has to do with his very first love. "What most inspired me to play Purépecha music," he says, "was because I wanted to have a dance group to enter contests."

Traditional dances abound in Michoacán, from the the Danza de las Mariposas (Dance of the Butterflies) and the Danza de los Huacaleros (Dance of the Basket Carriers) to the Danza de los Pescadores (Dance of the Fishermen) and all different versions of the Danza de los Viejitos (Dance of the Old Men). Every town has a special dance. In some places, there are very old dances, like the Danza del Torito (Dance of the Bull) in Jarácuaro, where women on wooden horses dance to the tune of a flute and a drum.

But since there was no traditional dance from Ichupio, Don Pedro could not enter the contests. He relates, "That is how I got the idea to create the Danza de los Tumbís. After composing the melodies, I put together the choreography and the zapateado." He explains there are two kinds of zapateado, or stomping dance step, in the Danza de los Tumbís: three by four and six by eight. Dancing it, he assures, is very difficult.

Danza de los Tumbís means Dance of the Young People, as opposed to the "Dance of the Old Men" which is danced in many other communities in Michoacán. The Viejitos, or Old Men, dance bent over on canes with masks full of wrinkles and beards, while the Tumbís of Ichupio dance erect with masks that show youth and vitality. Barefoot women dressed in traditional white blouses embroidered with flowers, colored skirts, and aprons dance alongside young men in embroidered shirts and white pants with embroidery around the ankles. The woman in front carries a delicate fishnet in her hands, which she swings to the music and later spreads out with the help of the others. With great solemnity, Don Pedro explains that this net means a lot to the women in the community: "When we men would go out to work in the field, the women would go and wade into the water to stretch out that net at night. The next day when they would go get it, it was full of little fish."

Every December, thirty Tumbís, or young men, and thirty Marías, or young women, dance together, going from house to house on Christmas Day and Three Kings' Day, on January 6. At almost every house, Don Pedro says, the family will invite the dancers to eat the regional pozole, a thick hominy and pork soup made from red corn in these parts. Don Pedro describes, "People are waiting for you. They have to give you something to eat or invite you in. I always told people, ‘Look, there isn't much time for us to stay in each house. If you didn't get to see everything we are dancing here, close your door and come along with us. We would get to Tzintzuntzan and there wouldn't be very many people, but from Tzintzuntzan to Ichupio, a crowd would gather."

At first, Don Pedro's dance was often disqualified in contests. Now that the dance is more than thirty years old, however, it is accepted as traditional in the indigenous communities and has won several prizes. Every year on October 17, for example, there is a regional music and dance contest for groups from around the Lake and the Purépecha Plateau. So many groups participate, describes Don Pedro, that the contest begins at 5 p.m. and does not end until 4 a.m. Don Pedro's dance group and band have won third, second, and first place on several different occasions.

...

Pedro Dimas and his group Mirando el Lago will be playing at the Adams Avenue Roots Festival in San Diego, California, April 30-May 1, 2005.

To order Mirando el Lago's CD in the U.S., contact: Swing Cat Records, P.O. Box 30153, Seattle, WA 98113; www.swingcatenterprises.com.

[Zaidee Stavely grew up listening to her mother play Southern Appalachian fiddle tunes and is now learning to play "son huasteco" on her own fiddle. She lives and works as a freelance journalist in Mexico City.]

For other articles on Mexican fiddling, see the following issues:

Winter '04/'05: "Son Huasteco"

Fall 2000: "Son Arribeño"

Summer 1999: The Bañuelos Archive; Harmony Fiddle – Juan Reynoso Style

Fall 1998: Mexican Fiddling; Juan Reynoso; Mariachi Violinist Laura Sobrino

--

Fiddle Music of the Civil War

By Jim Wood

I grew up near Franklin, Tennessee, a few miles from one of the most important battles of the Civil War, and even though some of my ancestors served in the Confederate military, I have always felt a slight aversion to the whole topic. I sometimes feel guilty that I have not taken the initiative to educate myself more thoroughly concerning the events that, arguably, constitute the most resounding crucible in our nation's history, but frankly, such abject brutality and inhumanity so close to home are simply more than I want to contemplate. To put things into perspective, estimates that 500,000 civilian Southerners starved to death during the war may be conservative.

In light of these horrific circumstances, the capacity of the human spirit to transcend despair and find ways to express joy, hope, and creativity as well as grief and sorrow is nothing short of miraculous, and the fiddle music popular during these darkest times reflects the human need to experience truth and beauty. Fiddlers provided lively dance tunes and song accompaniments in the encampment which brought a welcome diversion to the life-and-death struggles of a soldier's daily existence, and military leaders for centuries have understood the power of music to bolster morale, foster a sense of camaraderie amongst the troops, and synchronize energy (an army that marches together in time with a tune, for instance can travel further on fewer calories because of the phenomenon of rhythmic entrainment). The simple tunes from this era, played on fiddles, fifes, and drums, served an inestimable role in practically everyone's life and helped to shape our American identity.

The tunes in this article run the gamut from the most common ("Dixie" and "The Bonnie Blue Flag") to the relatively obscure ("Secesh"), but they all communicate a certain ethos which I identify with the Civil War. Minstrelsy, the musical voice of slaves, and the traditional tunes of immigrants from the British Isles all came to bear their influence on the evolution of this aesthetic, but the confluence of these elements forged an American style which is as vibrant and alive today as during the 19th century. I should say here, also, that the repertory of the typical fiddler in the middle of the 1800s included many of the most standard of the standards that constitute any fiddler's core vocabulary. Tunes such as "Sally Goodin," "Soldier's Joy," "Billy in the Lowground," "Turkey in the Straw," "Leather Britches," and "Arkansas Traveller" were, by all accounts, as common as dirt then as they are now.

...

[Jim Wood is a five-time Tennessee Fiddle Champion who performs on fiddle, mandolin, banjo, and guitar, both solo and with his wife Inge. For information on recordings, concerts, and workshops, please see his website at www.JimWoodMusic.net.]

 

Peter Van Arsdale: Building Violins with Attitude

By Michael Simmons

Peter Van Arsdale began working with wood when he was ten years old, the same age he began taking violin lessons. Over the years he continued to play violin, even as he honed his woodworking abilities as a boat builder, cabinetmaker, restorer of Victorian houses, and carpenter. Six years ago he finally decided to combine his twin passions and he started making violins. "Since I had worked with wood all my life and I had the skills and a garage full of tools, I thought I would give violin building a go," he says. "I started out by buying some junker instruments, taking them apart, seeing how they were made and trying to make them better. I also read lots of books about violins and violin making."

Van Arsdale's education in violin building was given a boost because he lived in Berkeley, California, an area with more than its share of luthiers, many of whom were happy to offer advice. He showed his early attempts to Boyd Poulsen, a highly respected local violin maker and restorer, who agreed to an informal apprenticeship. "Boyd is an excellent craftsman, and he's been really helpful in getting me going," Van Arsdale says. "I've also been working with Tom Croen, another good builder who is also a brilliant tool maker."

Following their advice, Van Arsdale opted to use the violins of Stradivari and Guarneri as templates for his own instruments. "I try to base my violins on specific instruments," he explains. "My standard model, if you can call it that, is patterned after the Cremonese, which was originally built by Stradivari in 1715, and is now preserved in the town hall in Cremona." Van Arsdale has also made instruments based on the Harrison Strad from 1693, which is at the Shrine of Music in South Dakota; the fancy, inlaid Hellier Strad from 1767; the Joachim Guarneri Del Gesù from 1737; and the ex-David Guarneri Del Gesù from 1740 that used to belong to Jascha Heifetz.

Van Arsdale feels that trying to replicate the acknowledged masterpieces of the violin world is the best way to learn to build his own instruments, but there is also a practical side to making replicas. "Players, for the most part, want something familiar," he says. "There's a saying I've heard other builders use: 'You can do anything you want when you make a violin, as long as it isn't different.' But even when you build something based on another model, there are still plenty of challenges. Dialing in the tone is very hard, for example. I just won't know how a violin will sound until I string it up."

Because of his extensive woodworking experience, Van Arsdale found that it was fairly easy to master carving the top and back, inlaying the purfling, making the scroll, and similar mechanical steps. But he's finding getting the varnish right is still a bit tricky. "Many non-builders think that the secret of good sound is the varnish," he says. "They may be right, but some respected makers believe that Stradivari and the other Cremonese builders didn't make their own varnish, that they would just run down to the local apothecary and pick some up when they ran out.

"As for me, I make some of my own varnishes and I buy some. It depends on what the customer wants. I spent some time in Cremona with a violinmaker named Gaspar Borchardt, who kindly showed me how he mixed his varnish from resin and linseed oil. It's very temperamental and it's more art than craft to prepare. I apply the varnish with a brush or a rag, depending on the look I'm after. Most factory-made violins, and pretty much all guitars, have a high-gloss finish, so the rougher appearance of a brushed-on varnish can be a surprise to people not used to it. I have to explain that, really, it's supposed to look like that."

When applied, the varnishes that Van Arsdale use have a slightly bumpy look that follow the contours of the wood's grain and a subtle sheen that makes sprayed-on, smooth-as-glass finishes look artificial. Van Arsdale's brushed-on finishes are a little softer than the sprayed-on, which he feels gives his violins a warmer tone.

Recently Van Arsdale has been studying ways to "antique" his violins. "I take a life size photograph of an old instrument and try to replicate its color and wear marks," he says. "It's surprisingly difficult to get it right, but the challenge of making new things look old is exciting. I love the wear patterns that old violins have."

To go along with the old look, Van Arsdale has been experimenting building with old wood with an unusual history. "I'd read an article about a company called Timeless Timber that was dredging up old logs from the bottom of Lake Superior in Michigan," he says. "I got in touch with them and bought some maple that had been down at the bottom of the lake for more than 100 years. Because it's so cold and deep down there, there is almost no oxygen and therefore no microbial action or mold so the wood doesn't rot. It's so aged that the sap dries up which creates these tiny hollow chambers that seems to have some acoustic benefit. It's also first growth wood and the maple I use has a texture that I don't find in freshly cut wood."

Van Arsdale has built a couple of violins from the Lake Superior wood, and has been impressed with the results. "The wood is very dense and hard," he says. "The violins I made with it have a very rich, even tone with good clarity and projection. The wood is expensive, but I'm looking forward to making violins out of it."

Van Arsdale estimates that he spends about 300 hours making each violin, an hourly total that makes the $8000 to $10,000 price tag for one of his instruments seem almost cheap. He's built about twenty-five instruments altogether, which include violins, violas, and a couple of cellos. He's experimented with making a five-string model, but he has no interest in making more modern styles like electric violins. "I'm fascinated by the older instruments," he says. "In fact, I'm considering making an Amati and a Maggini, two builders who predate Stradivari. I may even try my hand at making a viola de gamba."

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Peter Van Arsdale: (510) 558-3400; www.vanviolins.com

[Michael Simmons, Fiddler Magazine's Review Editor, is a guitar player and writer living in Mountain View, California. He co-publishes the Ukulele Occasional.]

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