Power of Music

This article gives the essential basics for how to play the violin. Generally violins are quite commonly available instruments and it is reasonably easy to rent or buy a violin. Children may need smaller violins (from an eighth, quarter, half, three-quarters, seven-eighths up to full size) to accommodate smaller hands if they are going to be learning over an extended period.

The Basics

The bow is held in the right hand with the thumb bent underneath the frog to support it and the other hands loosely gripping the wood. There are many different holds and it its important to find one that suits your hand size and strength. The violin is held with the left hand, with the chin on the chin rest supporting most of the weight, and the fingers loosely coiled around the neck of the violin. The thumb should be relaxed but firm. The left elbow should be curved under the violin. The violin should be roughly horizontal and the right arm held high. The main methods of playing the violin are bowed and pizzicato.

Bowed

The bow should be drawn swiftly and smoothly across the strings, about halfway between the fingerboard and the bridge. A down bow starts with the hand close to the strings pulling across the string from left to right, and is generally used on strong beats. An up bow goes the opposite way, right to left, and is used on weaker beats and upbeats. However with practice down bows and up bows should be fairly difficult to distinguish. Slurs in music indicate that all notes within a slur should be played in the same bow movement. To play loud notes, the bow is pressed down harder on the string using the index finger or the bow is drawn across the string faster. To play more quietly use less pressure or draw the bow across the string slower. In classical music bowed music is indicated by the Italian term arco.

Pizzicato

To play pizzicato (often abbreviated to pizz.) the right thumb should be placed under the fingerboard and the index finger used to pull the string quickly upwards and across. For faster passages, the bow can be held while playing pizzicato, still using the index finger but without the support of the thumb. In more complex and advanced pieces, a small cross above the stave indicates the fingers of the left hand plucking the strings.

Fingering and positions

As there are no physical aids such as frets for violinists as there are for guitarists, accurate tuning comes with immense practice. On a full size violin, the tones are roughly two centimeters apart, but this is difficult to judge when playing since you are seeing from a different perspective. To aid tuning, it is very helpful to have a piano or other keyboard instrument when practicing.

The fingers of the left hand are conventionally named first (index finger) to fourth (little finger). When playing notes other than open strings (G, A, D and E), these fingers must press down hard, so that the string is shortened convincingly for a higher pitch. The standard intervals taught to beginners is tone, tone, semitone, tone (ie. G-A-B-C-D, D-E-F#-G-A, A-B-C#-D-E, and E-F#-G#-A-B). Of course the notes in between can be played by rearranging the hand position.

This is known as first position, where the first finger plays up to a tone above the open string. The next position usually taught is third position, where the first finger plays the note a perfect fourth above the open string (so, for example, third position on the A string would start on the D). All positions from first up to anywhere around tenth can be thus played, and two octaves on one string are considered fairly standard.

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As the back to school flyers pour in and I visually digest the crisp images of mechanical pencils and Shrek lunch boxes, I am compelled to seek out new learning opportunities to make the rainy dying days of summer a smooth transition into winter.

Between Toastmasters Club, community orchestras, night classes at the local community college and a botched attempt at learning saxophone five autumns past, I have realised my school-aged programming has left a permanent impression: I see brown leaves and I run for the nearest sign-up sheet.

I decided this year, after having delved into expensive hobbies and projects started and soon abandoned, to limit my fall learning frenzies to those activities which are affordable, work well with my busy life as a wife and mother and which I am sure I will stick to long-term.

So I went out and bought a piano.

Affordable? Not really. It set us back from buying a new couch, but as I explained to my loved ones that if you dexterously avoid the gaping holes and sharp jutting springs, the existing couch really is quite comfortable.

Non-intrusive to family life? The thing takes up half of my living room and almost all of my attention, resulting in several burned suppers, neglected piles of dishes and ignored phone calls. Things of little importance when I am immersed in a snappy rendition of “Polly Wolly Doodle.”

Which leads to the last criteria: Will I stick with it long-term? You betcha!

To be honest, I did not expect this new musical venture to be this successful. I’ve always wanted a piano in my home; my German heritage nagging, “it’s not home unless it’s got a piano.” As a violinist and violin junkie I’ve never much cared for piano music (I know I’ll get heat from my piano-playing colleagues for that one).

I figured I’d noodle around on it here and there, waiting until my preschool-aged son was taking lessons for it to be studied on, as my past ventures in new instruments (saxophone, bagpipes and other instruments that require air) resulted in me me giving up from breathless frustration.

As the burly piano movers heaved the massive antique into place, one of them wheezed, “Someone had better learn to play this thing.” Though I was down with a gawdawful flu the day the piano arrived, I played it for hours at a time, ignoring my 39-degree fever and laryngitis.

I started with the basics: “Twinkle Twinkle” and “Mary had a Little Lamb.” Ok, I have no pride.

I found the whole “two hand, two clef” concept a bit of a hurdle, like severing one half of my brain from the other then asking them to co-operate. After three days of inspired practice (and cold leftovers for dinner) things seemed to click and other songs flowed more easily.

I’ve discovered I’m really good at this, a real natural! I play a wicked two-handed “Chicken Dance” and I’m pretty solid at the first page of Beethoven’s “Moonlight” Sonata. Ok, fifteen years of violin playing and a college music education probably has something to do with that, but let me dream!

In the past learning a new instrument, or anything new for that matter, was unbearably frustrating because didn’t like feeling like a “beginner” and set unachievable goals. I enjoy playing piano far too much to wreck it with guilt or self-doubt, so I am softening my expectations and have surrendered to my vulnerability in starting over again. This humbling experience has gained me far more respect for my students who, like me, are beginners in an instrument.

It feels like I’m back in school again with all the other kids, learning and growing with my mechanical pencil and lunch box, singing “Poll-y Woll-y Doo-dle all the Day!”

**Rhiannon Schmitt (nee Nachbaur) is a professional violinist and music teacher who has enjoyed creative writing for years. She writes for two Canadian publications and Australia’s “Music Teacher Magazine.”

Her business, Fiddleheads Violin School & Shop, has won several distinguished young entrepreneur business awards and offers beginner to professional level instruments, accessories and supplies for very reasonable prices: Visit http://www.fiddleheads.ca

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Led Zeppelin was blaring on the stereo and our violins trembled in the back seat. We devoured our fast food suppers as we zoomed along the dark winter highway to “the big city” two hours away from our small, rural Canadian town.

Anticipating the evening with mixed anxiety and excitement, our insides danced a quick nervous jig. We were travelling to the first of seven practices this month with a symphony orchestra and were already sick of the drive.

Ari, a 17-year-old fiddle student of mine, had never played in an orchestra but had won plenty of hardware at fiddle contests. Seeing the opportunity as great career experience, he reluctantly agreed to spend four Wednesdays and an entire weekend away from his friends in rehearsals. He was a proficient player and incredibly confident, which I hoped would keep him from bailing out before any music was played.

We were not at all prepared to play our parts since the music was held up by another orchestra until the day before. Thus the entire orchestra would have to “sight-read” (musician for “fake it or die a terrible death”) the music with the rest of the orchestra.

Under normal circumstances I wouldn’t have been nervous in the least. I played first violin for a year with the symphony, but had spent a couple years pregnant then raising my son. My mind had turned into a mish-mash of strained carrots and Barney and I was worrying about everything all at once.

Did I still have what it took to play with an orchestra? Was the cat fed today? Would I be able to stay awake at the rehearsal after only 4 hours sleep the night previous? Did I leave the stove on? Would my child survive at home with my unobservant husband? What if the conductor asked me to play in front of everyone else and I spontaneously forgot how to play the violin?

Leaving behind a toddler screaming for mommy was difficult, but no where near as frightening as the impending embarrassment that could have struck if I have “lost my touch.” My nervous tension grew as we approached the city lights.

After getting lost and being locked out of the building we were late, but thankfully, so was our “boss,” the section leader. We finally settled into our seats, clutching our violins with cold, shaking hands, and were met with intimidating folders crammed full of what a non-musician would think to be inkblot exams for testing the insane. On second thought, they very well could be tonight. The conductor raised his baton and we began.

Playing with a symphony is always wonderfully intense and the enormous volume within the orchestra is fantastic. Our conductor waved his hands with enthusiasm and the complete concentration everyone was immersed in was wonderfully intense. During an overture I was busy avoiding blasting unwanted notes when there was supposed to be silence and looking out for my young pupil beside me that he was on the same track.

For me the tension melted away when we pulled “Beethoven Symphony No. 4″ out of our folders.

Playing Beethoven was what inspired me to leave my warm cozy home and family to subject myself to potential humiliation. Playing Beethoven was enough incentive to keep all of us coming to rehearsals, though most of us were volunteers and weren’t paid to rehearse or perform in the concert. Playing Beethoven was what made the 4-hour drive in winter weather and midnight bedtime worthwhile.

Surprisingly, Ari was the one slumped over a kettledrum napping during the break, and not me. My maternal instinct took over and I helped him into a chair. “He’s new to all this,” I said to another player and she smirked and let him rest in peace, with full understanding of how the late rehearsals can drain a player. Players exchanged baby pictures, ate cake, then played “Happy Birthday” for a flautist.

Bruce, not “The Maestro,” but Bruce, was a great leader who told jokes and “hung” with the rest of us. His friendliness and encouragement always made orchestra rehearsals fun for me and I’m sure all the musicians played better as a result.

At one point he asked the rookie, Ari, how he was holding up with the music. “Fine,” Ari replied. “How’s she doing,” Bruce teased, looking at me, the teacher. “Oh, I don’t know about her!” Ari said with an impish grin. We all laughed and again I felt my tension evaporate until I was just having fun again.

After playing remarkably well and avoiding the wrath of the sectionleader we drove home and reflected on the events behind us. Ari was having the time of his life and became delirious and giddy with fatigue. At one point he took his violin out of the case and started playing hyper-fast jigs in the car, his bow bumping the soft ceiling. We laughed and sang and talked.

Inside I was cherishing the feeling of being back in my element: “I’m playing Beethoven again” I kept reminding myself as the words’ euphoric effect had not yet worn off. Ari thought playing with a symphony was pretty “cool” and was glad he was giving it a try.

I thought of all the other musicians around the world who were on their way home from rehearsals and concerts, dog-tired and hopelessly broke, but content because they were feeding their souls. In the weeks to come our duo would run out of gas in the middle of nowhere, my son would nearly drive my husband batty with frustration and Ari would expose my car stereo to so-called music featuring indecent bodily noises, but it was all part of the musicians’ experience.

It allowed me to play Beethoven again.

We cranked up the Zeppelin and air-guitared all the way back home through a light blizzard, enjoying every minute of the drive together.

**Rhiannon Schmitt (nee Nachbaur) is a professional violinist and music teacher who has enjoyed creative writing for years.

Her business, Fiddleheads Violin School & Shop, has won several distinguished young entrepreneur business awards for her commitment to excellence. Her shop offers beginner to professional level instruments, accessories and supplies for very reasonable prices: Visit http://www.fiddleheads.ca

Rhiannon is also Founding President of the Shuswap Violin Society which promotes violin & fiddle music and helps young musicians in need: http://www.violinsociety.ca

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