I read a lot about poor self-esteem, lately. Yes! That’s a big one, and accomplishment is usually the key to better self-esteem.
I wish I could say that my ‘hobby’, a dysfunctional relationship with my violin for years, would fit the ‘self-esteem’ niche.
Fiddling is different than playing classical violin
Most fiddlers do not play way up on the E-string with the beautiful, singing sound of concert violin. I reduce my efforts to 3 fingers like a cartoon character, occasionally stretching that fourth finger to reach a high note on the E-string. With this sort of reach a noticeable dysfunctional boo-boo can occur. Concert violinists traverse the E-string regularly, and play in tune, folks!
A fiddle is a violin. You might be surprised at how many people have asked me if a fiddle and a violin are different. It’s the technique that is different, not the instrument. 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.
Old time fiddle music 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.
At one time, I had unrealistic ambitions to conquer the upper note mysteries of concert violin, When I began fiddling at 42, way too old to become an accomplished violinist, I was gung-ho, and that ought to count for something! I have never had a violin lesson in my life, which translates into a lot of bad habits which will take a lifetime to correct, if I am lucky enough to live that long.
Grandpa Howard cobbled up my first violin
I wanted to play violin, but had no funds to purchase an instrument. Even $200 was beyond my finances. Therefore, when a neighbor woman said she had a student violin, and offered it to me for free, I jumped at the chance. Rather disappointingly, the instrument was in pieces, and no surprise. It had fallen afoul of the grandchildren at some point. I hung it on the wall and forgot about my dream until one day Grandpa Howard visited from Arkansas.
He said, “You want that fiddle?”
Well, shoot, I couldn’t play it, and Grandpa was a down-home musician and sneaking up on fiddling at the age of 60, so I gave it to him.
Guess what? Grandpa brought the fiddle back when he drove up north to visit us in the fall! He had cobbled it up pretty well, had a guitar string in place of the G violin string, and the bow was bent; but that meant Grandpa had practiced – a lot! He was one to use what he had, and I don’t recall him ever throwing anything away. It might come in handy later on, you never could tell. And these items, filed away under the dusty Dewey Decimal System of his workshop, had been waiting for me all along!
I learned on mandolin
I learned a little on mandolin first, which is tuned and strung like a violin. They are kissin’ cousins, you could say, but the mandolin is fretted, unlike the violin, and requires learning complex chords, which I was too lax to do. I learned mandolin with a system called tablature, which shows the strings to finger under the musical note. I could read music, because I was a concert clarinetist in college. Not realizing my ultimate fate, I dropped the mandolin, bowed a wobbly, tuneless scale on my ‘new’ violin, and was hooked! Like those first involved with a narcissist, this small accomplishment was the love-bombing stage of the relationship.
Back in the day I played on Red Ball strings, which were the stiffest strings known to man as far as I know, but they only cost $5. To be honest, it was sometimes a toss-up whether to put $5 worth of gas in my car or buy strings, so my strings got pretty wonky.
Metal violin strings are noted as ‘wound strings’. That means just what it says, and after so much time and pressure, they begin to come unwound. Then you know you are due for a startling string snap, cruising for a performance misadventure. I will admit to a few bad experiences in this area.
Old-time fiddlers cut down their bridges
I played second fiddle to a lot of old folks years ago, and they used to cut down their bridges so they could move faster, play hoedowns and reels. This simply meant that they lowered the bridge by sometimes cutting it in half, with their own makeshift tools, of course. I tried this a few times; suffice it to say I experienced less than optimal results.
With a cut-down bridge fiddlers could play double stops and sometimes triples and drones. That means playing on two or three strings and, hopefully, creating a nice harmony. 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 in the past, and ruined some, too. When I cut properly, it worked well, and I could move a bit faster. Now you can buy them cut down, so why court possible ruin?
Someone advised me to stay with a cut-down bridge because, quote: “Once age and alcohol take their toll, you will have the boost of speed that a lower bridge brings and you’ll stand up to a challenge.”
Well, I didn’t drink and I wasn’t old then and so I went on to a concert bridge. Now that I do/am both of those things, I regret not keeping a lower bridge, but that’s water under the bridge today. Once you get used to a certain cut of bridge, it’s hard to go back.
Old-time fiddling position
Some of the real old-timers positioned the fiddle down 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 Pop milked cows and would 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.
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 musical influences
My influences were straight country fiddling. Two of my best were my Uncle Ted and a man named Herb Kershner, from Richland Center, Wisconsin. 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. There are no frets or keys to determine the notes, so, you’re on your own for playing in tune. You just have to figure it out, and the embarrassment of tuneless music is a rite of passage.
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 is. 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 here in 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!
But, 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 for Easter, which is coming up in a month.
My neighbors don’t care about that. If the windows are open, someone is sure to call, “Hey! Play some country, will ya?”
And I do!
The violin and I have a dysfunctional relationship. That means I get frustrated and mad and dump my partner for a while, but I always come back. Like those marriages where everyone secretly thinks the couple should get a divorce, we never quite call it quits forever, although I know there are some who wish we would.
They say bad marriages last about 8 years.
It’s been much longer than that!
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