It’s a curious thing—the relationship that string players have with their instruments. Yes, guitarists can rave about one “brand” of guitar, and pianists line up in favor of the Bösendorfer—which is now, by the way, owned by Yamaha—or the Steinway. But nobody seems to get as metaphysical, as enraptured, as enamored as string players with their instrument. It leads, at times, to extreme statements that are almost embarrassing. “I felt like my soul was disappearing,” said one violinist, who had his violin stolen. Another violinist takes his instrument to the luthier—the educated reader of this blog will not need to be told that that’s the repair guy; the computer, however, is another story—and gets paid this compliment. “I can tell you two are happy together,” says the luthier. And no, he hasn’t heard the two—just seen them.
Ummm?
Then there’s the widely held belief that an instrument not played “dies.” This, I can tell you, is not true. I know this because my own cello, at various points in my life, has gone untouched (in two senses, since the word for play in a musical sense is tocar or touch in Spanish) for years. In fact, I have just gotten my own luthier—everyone should have one, it adds a bit of class when speaking—to work on my cello. And the sound? Wonderful? Oh, and it had been five years.
“It’s male, I suppose?” said my luthier—OK, his name is Rodrigo, which is, come to think of it, every bit as classy as “my luthier.” Rodrigo met me and Mr. Fernández decades ago.
“Of course,” I said. And if I were on the opposite spectrum, it would be “she.”
So I’m prepared to go part of the way in this mysticism that we have with our violins, violas, celli and basses. I believe, for example, that the instrument makes or at least helps make the musician. Certainly, without having the instrument I have, I would never have created my own sound. But it’s more than that—it’s also true that some instruments let you explore easily: should I hold that note longer, elongate the appoggiatura, play the triplets more staccato? There are times the instrument is suggesting things.
What’s also true is that the instrument is my voice, and then, well, very close to my soul. So much so that when the principal cellist of the local orchestra raved about the sound of my cello, I was a little offended. ‘I created that sound, and if you played my cello, it wouldn’t sound the same. Maybe better, maybe worse. But not the same….’ That’s what I wanted to—but didn’t—tell him.
I tell you all this because I’ve just spent 50 minutes watching the video below. And for the benefit of people who actually have lives to live—I can recap for you.
There’s this mystique about Stradivarius and his instruments—1000 of them, of which 500 have been lost. They are the Himalayans of instruments, and they don’t come cheap. A “basic” Strad will set you back 1.4$ million Euros—a couple of million bucks. And yeah, that’s a lot of money for a young violinist….
Oh, and the great violins, from Stradivarius’ “gold period?” Here’s Wikipedia:
A Stradivarius made in the 1680s, or during Stradivari's 'Long Pattern' period from 1690 to 1700, could be worth hundreds of thousands to several million U.S. dollars at today's prices. The 1697 Molitor[4] Stradivarius, once rumored to have belonged to Napoleon Bonaparte (it did belong to a general in his army, Count Gabriel-Jean-Joseph Molitor), sold in 2010 at Tarisio Auctions to violinist Anne Akiko Meyers for $3,600,000, at the time a world record.[5][6]Depending on condition, instruments made during Stradivari's "golden period" from 1700 to about 1725[7] can be worth millions of dollars. In 2011, his "Lady Blunt" violin from 1721, which is in pristine condition, was sold at Tarisio auctions for £9.8 million (it is named after Lord Byron's granddaughter Lady Anne Blunt, who owned it for 30 years). It was sold by the Nippon Music Foundation in aid of the Japanese earthquake and tsunami appeal.[8]
That’s 15 million dollars. And that should tell you something: these instruments have stopped being instruments and have become…investments.
Which means that two things can happen to them, both risky. The first is that the bank or foundation can stick the violin in a vault. There, it’s safe, protected and—duh!—unheard. Or, the bank can lend the instrument to a young, aspiring musician, who will fall in love with the instrument, cherish it, speak to it and…
…wait for the letter from the bank asking for it back. And this is—yes—traumatic; it’s every bit as bad as losing a spouse.
Right—so the absolutely best thing would be to find the “secret” to the Stradivarius. And the legend always was—if we could just get our hands on the family Bible, there we would find it: the recipe for the varnish, in the Master’s own hand!
The varnish is one theory—and it’s been studied. But in fact, most of the Strads have lost a lot of the original varnish, and been re-varnished. Oh—and some parts of the violins have lost their varnish completely. So nix that one.
OK—the wood. Spruce and maple—and in the time of Stradivarius, the wood used would have been exceptionally hard, since it from trees growing in a miniature ice age. But wait—that was the wood everybody was using, not just Stradivarius. So that’s not the secret.
OK—is it the shape? Stradivarius standardized the form of the violin, but in fact people have been playing with it for centuries after he died. And in the clip below, one luthier made a violin with a bigger top than bottom. And guess what? It sounded terrific—the low notes more mellow, the high notes more brilliant.
Lastly, there’s another, somewhat less appealing theory. It may all be just hype—since in double blind studies, the Strad has been picked out over similar or even modern instruments only as often as—statistically—you’d expect. And in the clip below, it was a modern instrument that everyone thought was the Strad.
In fact—it may be that there’s nothing special about a Strad. Other instruments compare favorably; it’s just that everyone decided that a Strad was a benchmark. And therefore, all the greats played them—which reinforced the legend.
And technology moves on. I’m seriously thinking of investing in a carbon fiber cello, since they are impervious to heat and—especially—humidity. And guess what? If they’re good enough for Yo-Yo Ma, they’re probably good enough for me….
Have a listen!
