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In the Wind

July 21, 2005
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I feel privileged to be involved with an instrument that has such a grand heritage and so thoroughly captivates its players, builders, and listeners. I value “shop talk,” those conversations with colleagues or aficionados that broaden our knowledge by sharing experiences--I’ve often been chided by family members for the specialized jargon that peppers those talks. But we cannot thrive on shop talk alone. We strengthen our art by developing and nourishing connections with the rest of the music world, with the broader expression of the arts, and with as many facets of our culture as possible. 

I have recently read (and reread) a book that I think offers a thoughtful opportunity for enrichment by considering the heritage of another musical instrument. I recommend Stradivari’s Genius written by Toby Faber (Random House, 2004).

“It’s a Strad”

Antonio Stradivari (1644-1737) was the preeminent member of the revered and prolific tradition of violin-making in Cremona, Italy. His local competition included such well-known names as Amati and Guarneri, family workshops whose products are highly revered today, but Stradivari’s instruments were superior enough that he stood out among giants. Today his name is widely respected as a mark of excellence.

 

The evolution of music can be studied from three different points of view, that of the composer, the performer, and the instrument builder. None could advance without the others, and I think it’s interesting to note how the sway of influence has passed back and forth. Ludwig van Beethoven, Claude Debussy, and Igor Stravinsky were composers who introduced new, imaginative, even controversial musical languages that brought the art of musical expression to new levels. Niccolò Paganini, Franz Liszt, Vladimir Horowitz, and Yo-Yo Ma stand out as performers whose technical skill and artistic perception have influenced, even changed the way others approach the instruments.

A number of builders of musical instruments have similarly influenced the development of music. Aristide Cavaillé-Coll produced a huge number of pipe organs that included countless innovations both in tonal resources and mechanical controls. The instruments he built inspired an entire school of organ composition and playing--the music of Widor, Vierne, Franck, Tournemire, Duruflé, Dupré, and Messiaen (to name just a few) was all inspired by the work of Cavaillé-Coll. It’s hard to imagine today’s organ world without it. By the way, Cavaillé-Coll’s genius was not limited to the development of the organ--he is also credited with the development of the circular saw blade.1

American organbuilder Ernest M. Skinner is an excellent example of an instrument-maker whose work has had profound and lasting influence on the art of organ playing. The Ruckers family (Hans I, Hans II, Andreas I, Andreas II) were at the center of the famous Flemish school of harpsichord building. Remarkably, about 135 of their instruments built between 1581 and 1680 survive today, a central and profound influence on modern harpsichord makers and players.2 Steinway & Sons is certainly not the only show in town, but it is impossible to separate their brand name from the evolution of the piano virtuoso. 

Antonio Stradivari’s career spanned over seventy years, during which he produced more than 1100 instruments. Most were violins, but he also built many cellos, fewer violas, guitars, and harps. About 650 instruments built by Stradivari survive, most of which are used regularly by modern virtuosi. From the admittedly naïve point of view of an organbuilder, the construction of the violin seems simple, but Stradivari’s Genius offers rare insight into the world of instrument building and the various ways that instrument makers have influenced the evolution of musical composition and performance.

The premise of the book is made clear by the subtitle: Five Violins, One Cello, and Three Centuries of Enduring Perfection. After an introductory overview of Stradivari’s life and career, the author traces the history of six individual instruments from original purchase to the present, their paths often crossing. The fact that the full history of so many Strads is known is testament to their value. Each instrument has a name (as do the majority of the extant instruments), often the name of the instrument’s most prominent owner, and each has a life story. 

What makes something great?

For three centuries now there has been a continuing debate about just why Stradivari’s instruments are so much better than others. One theory acknowledges that the shape, size, and position of the soundholes (also known as f-holes) is critical--that the master’s skill is evident in the precision with which these important features are made. Another theory focuses on the varnish used to finish the instruments. Stradivari used a unique varnish made of materials indigenous to his area that remains notably soft when cured. Would a harder finish inhibit the instruments’ resonance? Does the varnish act as a filter for certain harmonics? If so, how?3

Another interesting theory was described in an article written by Duncan Mansfield and published in USA Today on December 2, 2003.  According to that report, Dr. Henri Grissino-Mayer, an expert in tree-ring dating at the University of Tennessee, theorized that a “Little Ice Age” that affected Europe from the mid-fifteenth through the mid-nineteenth centuries slowed tree growth resulting in uncommonly dense Alpine Spruce, the wood used exclusively by Cremona luthiers. This Ice Age was at its coldest between 1645 and 1715--remember that Stradivari was born in 1644. Dr. Grissino-Mayer suggested that this particularly dense wood contributed to the magic of Stradivari’s instruments:

“It just amazed me that no one had thought of this before,” said Dr. Henri Grissino-Mayer, “the relationship between the violins, the trees that they were made from, the climate that existed when the trees grew and how it affected wood density to create a superior tonal quality. It just started clicking, and I thought, ‘Oh, we are on to something,’” he said.4

Perhaps the superiority of Stradivari’s instruments results from a combination of these factors. I have no doubt that there are many more theories, but the fact remains that the instruments are incomparable. Faber’s book goes on to say that while Stradivari’s work was admired during his lifetime--the original purchasers knew they were getting something very special--the instruments did not achieve their potential until they had aged for decades, even as long as a century.

Faber makes major points in this delightful book that have special significance to us who study and work with pipe organs. One is that it was common for Stradivari’s instruments to be purchased by patrons and either given or loaned to the virtuosi who could show the instruments’ capabilities to best advantage. 

The virtuoso gambler

Unlike those who play orchestral instruments, organists do not have freedom to choose the instrument they play. There are those fortunate organists who are given the opportunity to participate in the planning of a new instrument on which they will be playing, and some whose choice of where to audition is influenced by the instrument involved, but even they must play on whatever instrument is available when they are away from home. And the organist is virtually never in the position of actually purchasing the instrument. The funding for these monumentally expensive works of art must be provided by a patron or by an organized group of donors. 

Early in the nineteenth century, violin virtuoso Niccolò Paganini was to play a concert in a theater in Leghorn, a coastal town in Tuscany. He arrived without a violin, having pawned his instrument to pay a gambling debt. The owner of the theater was a French merchant and amateur violinist named Colonel Livron. He loaned his valuable instrument (built by Stradivari’s competitor, Guarneri del Gesù) for the concert, realized that the instrument had found “its true master,” and gave it to Paganini, saying, “Never will I profane strings which your fingers have touched; that instrument is yours.”5

A singular loaner

One of the instruments followed in Faber’s book is the incomparable cello known as the Davidoff, one of whose twentieth-century owners was Jacqueline du Pré, the brilliant cellist whose career was cut short by multiple sclerosis. As her illness progressed, she changed to a modern instrument that was easier to play and the Davidoff was placed in storage with a Parisian luthier. About ten years later, du Pré’s husband, the conductor and pianist Daniel Barenboim, met the young virtuoso Yo-Yo Ma after which Barenboim and du Pré loaned Ma her instrument. After du Pré’s death in 1987 at the age of 42, Ma was the first to be offered the opportunity to purchase the cello, an offer he reluctantly turned down as both his career and his children were young and he was unable to afford such a purchase. An anonymous enthusiast heard of Ma’s decision from the luthier where the instrument was stored, purchased it, and presented it to Ma as a lifetime loan.6  This was the third time in its history that the use of the Davidoff cello had been made possible by a philanthropist.

Keep the receipt

By the way, it’s Ma’s other cello that had an extra-curricular taxi ride in 1999. He inadvertently left his 1733 Montagno (Venice) cello in the trunk of a cab but wisely kept the receipt. The NYPD tracked the cabbie’s medallion and returned Petunia to her owner within five hours. For years after you could hear Ma’s recorded voice advising you to keep your receipts when you got into a cab in New York.7

Why is all this relevant to the pipe organ? The funding of our instrument is crucial to its future. The price of an excellent pipe organ of even moderate size can easily exceed a million dollars. The church that can consider a purchase like that is becoming ever rarer. The history of our civilization is rife with wealthy donors whose vision was broad enough to appreciate the value of art and who provided funding in support of the work of the artist. It’s hard to imagine a world without the art made possible by people named Medici, Esterházy, Guggenheim, or Rockefeller. The steel magnate Andrew Carnegie donated more than 8800 pipe organs.8 It should be the mission of modern organists, organbuilders, and enthusiasts to take every opportunity to cultivate such relationships.

Adapting and evolution

Faber made another point in his book that I thought was revelatory, stating that while so many Strads survive today, not one is in original condition. Each was modified during the nineteenth century to adapt it for modern playing. The angle of the neck was changed as were the original tapered fingerboards. The instruments were built when common pitch for “A” was around 420 Hz--some of their pitches have been raised to as high as 460 Hz to accommodate the pitches of certain orchestras. Raising the pitch necessarily increases the tension of the strings and the force the instrument must bear, requiring heavier sound posts and other modifications. Also, the design of the bow was greatly altered. The bows that Stradivari knew had about 1/4 inch of horsehair--modern bows have more like 7/16”, allowing the player to draw ever more sound from the instrument. Faber concludes, “it all presents us, however, with a supreme irony: the brilliant and powerful tone for which Strads are famous, and which is most responsible for their value, is very different from what their maker himself must have heard.”9

Even more interesting, Yo-Yo Ma enhanced his exploration of seventeenth-century music by having the Davidoff cello returned as closely as possible to its original condition including gut strings, a baroque bow and bridge. He uses a different instrument for all other music.10

This has everything to do with our modern conversation about the pipe organ. We have researched the methods of organbuilders from every period and every country. We have studied the relationships between the instruments and the music written for them and have built modern instruments in ancient styles to enhance that study. We have restored older altered instruments to their original condition. We energetically discuss the possibilities of playing one style of music on another style of instrument--sometimes it works, sometimes it doesn’t, and we often disagree.

There are countless differences between the organ and the violin. It is surely a risk to draw parallels without careful thought. But I find it interesting to learn about the approach to some of these questions as discussed by our colleagues who work with other instruments.

“It’s a Doozy”

August and Fred Duesenberg were bicycle makers in Iowa who developed an interest in gasoline engines. In 1926 they joined in partnership with Errett Cord to build the luxury J-model Duesenberg automobile, producing fewer than 500 vehicles between 1928 and 1937.11 While the Duesenberg automobile was wildly expensive, available only to the most wealthy patrons, it set such a high standard of style, quality, and excellence that we use the term Doozy today to refer to anything extraordinary or bizarre.12

If bizarre is part of Doozy, I suppose that defines the difference between It’s a Doozy and It’s a Strad. Maybe I should look up bizarre . . .

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