We all need a hobby!
Old time fiddling is considered kind of a genre, and the old tunes were derived from jigs and reels, breakdowns, Schottische, Waltz, Two-Step and Polka. These are the descendants of the original American styles, Appalachian, Bluegrass, Cajun.
Anyway, I’ll bet some of you can dance Schottische, Two-Step and Polka. We Polkaed in Wisconsin, and we Texas Two Step here in Arizona.
I can yodel, too, but that is another tale entirely.
Fiddling is different than classical violin
Fiddling is different than classical violin, although a fiddle is a violin. Yes, it is. But old-time fiddlers never affected a vibrato that I know of, they were usually traveling too fast, and most of us don’t use any but first position. That means we don’t go wa-aaay up there on the ‘E’ string and give it a vibrato and make it sound like an angel singing. There’s a trick to that, but I never learned it.
The old time fiddlers cut their bridges down
The old fiddlers I knew cut their bridges down, flattened them out from the standard shape so they could cross strings faster and play double stops and sometimes triples and drones. I can do double stops and drones, but not triples. That’s because I have a standard bridge on my fiddle now and mostly because I’m not too good at it. I have cut bridges down, and ruined some, too. For me, it worked, I could move a bit faster. Now you can buy them cut down, so why court possible ruin?
And a piece of advice on cut-down bridges: Quote: “Stick with your flatter fiddle set-up, for a while at least. From my humble experience, it’ll train you into a bowing accuracy that you may be thankful for when age and alcohol take their inevitable toll…”
.Some of the real old-timers positioned the fiddle on the arm, instead of hoisted up on the shoulder, like we do now.
I recall an old Norwegian fiddler, Henry Dallin, back when I was about five. That’s how he played, and pretty decent dance tunes, too. He’d stop by to neighbor with my dad while he milked cows and pull out his fiddle and play a bit when the conversation lagged, which it did with Pop, fairly regularly.
Not to worry! Cows like music. That’s probably how the original Barn Dance started.
I was a classically trained clarinetist
I was a classically trained clarinetist, and not too bad. I played in concert and jazz bands in college. One day, I took up a questionable idea to learn the violin at the age of 42. My father-in-law from Arkansas accommodated me with an instrument he had cobbled together with assorted strings, baling wire and a bent bow he had practiced with himself. He was sneaking up on fiddle-playing at the age of 62, so no reason for me to get all bent about the task.
Eventually, I put some cheap Red Ball strings on there – sheesh! They don’t give an inch. The bow needed hair, big time. But, hey! I had a violin. That was the main thing.
I learned a little mandolin first
I learned a little bit of mandolin first, which taught me tablature. That meant that the fret position on the instrument lurked right under the note written on the musical piece. I should have pursued the mandolin, but I was too lax to learn the chords, which constitute much of mandolin demand.
The violin has no frets
The violin has no frets, or markings on the neck to indicate fingerings. So, most of the time, a beginner violinist is playing out of tune. In fact, I play out of tune fairly often, even now. You’d think!
The sad fact is, I know it, too.
My uncle Ted was a fiddler
My uncle Ted was a fiddler, and he and an accordion player used to make the rounds and played at a little tavern up by Wiota, Wisconsin. Lots of people danced there, that was the reason they came. There was an old woman in there who sat at the bar and drank to way past Polka demands.
When Ted stopped to check tuning, she commented, “You fiddlers. You’re always either tuning up or playing out of tune!”
And she tapped the bartend for a refill so she could handle that.
My influences
My influences were straight country fiddling. Two of my best were my Uncle Ted and a man named Herb Kershner, from Richland Center. I learned the old-time fiddle tunes like Faded Love and The Tennessee Waltz and Kentucky Waltz and Little Redwing from Ted and played them as a second to Herb. That meant I had to learn harmonies.
Fiddlers just have to play with someone else, it is mandatory. You have to learn to blend.
I play along with the computer at home. I’m practicing an old Mazurka now that my uncle used to play, I’ve lost the name of it.
I’ve picked up tunes from just about everyone
I’ve picked up tunes from just about everyone. A guy named Byron Berline in Oklahoma had a shop in Guthrie, and he and a banjo player with a gun on his hip were having fun with the old tunes. When I walked in for some new strings, they invited me to play, and I did. Later I learned just how famous a Bluegrass player Byron really was.
That proves you never know just who’s listening. You might keep that in mind.
I should have begged him for some help, but I didn’t know any better.
I learned a great version of Ghost Riders from listening to a guitar man at the Rusty Spur in Old Town, here is Scottsdale, Arizona. I liked his style. The beauty of fiddling is, all of us know the same basic tunes. I have never gotten together with another fiddler where we didn’t have music in common. I know several parts to songs like Faded Love, and so I can always be relegated to 2nd fiddle. Believe me, I know my place!
I’ve learned a lot from the violin
I’ve learned a lot on the violin, and FROM the violin, as well. Like, for instance, how to accept failure. That’s one thing.
So today I am working on some tunes, and I often cross over into pop tunes I consider nice, like some Roberta Flack or jazz versions of Lullaby of Birdland and even La Via Dolorosa and The Lord’s Prayer.
But my neighbors don’t care about that. If the windows are open, someone is sure to call, “Hey! Play some country, will ya?”