October 2006
October 26, 2006 22:39
Preaching to the Younger Generation of Musicians
by Rhiannon Schmitt of http://www.fiddleheads.ca
I've overheard teenage musicians mention casually they are considering teaching music to make extra money. I am compelled to butt in, “Do you enjoy teaching?” the answer I interrupt with “Are you patient?” Their response: “Like, I play wicked, teaching will be an easy gig.”
My response: maniacal laughter.
Teens, let us hear the wise old violin teacher preaching a holy sermon from atop a glorious mountain of experience: Teaching music isn't a luxurious life of sleeping in late, illuminating the unquestioning minds of flocking prodigies through 30-minute jam sessions and writing off all your music gear and fast food meals come tax time. Lord have mercy on our souls.
Simply put, teaching music is weekly customer service, with occasional late night support calls when the instrument falls out of tune or the player is struggling. A teacher is dealing with customers who are exploring new ground, hence requiring lessons in the first place, and is responsible for helping advance them into musicians who no longer require our services.
Sounds easy, except that the most trying aspect of customer service is, oddly enough, the customer. The human collective is a random grab-bag of mixed egos and inhibitions, fears and potential, attitudes and limitations. Even the ideal customer, who listens closely, asks exactly the right questions and retains everything they have ever been taught, cannot master music in an afternoon. (At least we teachers have a semblance of job security).
Music, a vast system of pitch, velocity and rhythm that can take a lifetime to understand, has been further complicated with pedagogy. There are more styles to teach violin than there are ways to cook an egg. Each method claims theirs is the most effective way to master the instrument, they have countless scientific studies to prove it and please enter your credit card number here.
A teacher has to weed through the dogmatic hype and come out with a cohesive teaching concept that jives with their own approach to playing and learning. They also have to understand their instrument inside and out, keeping in mind a clear idea how and when to introduce new concepts as to not overwhelm the student. After carefully formulating a perfect lesson plan, the teacher will then scrap it all and reinvent their method when it inevitably doesn't fit the student's learning style.
A good teacher is not locked into one method or way of explaining ideas. Instead they receive feedback from the player and interpret it into a lesson that will make an impact.
What makes the most impact, you ask? Repetition. Repetition. Then you do it again. Detach yourself from how many times you've played “Fur Elise” or corrected that particular eighth note. There are pin-sized holes in my eardrums from “Twinkle Twinkle” and I develop an itchy rash prior to our annual Christmas recital, but I've found a Zen peace in accepting my fate.
I see each lesson as a new chapter in the life of a musician I am helping along. With experience, lessons have developed their own rhythm and my teaching days swoop past me.
The repetition can get to some people, like the crusty old piano teacher, the one everyone seems to have had as a child, who wielded a nasty ruler for discipling unwanted notes. I knew a guy in high school who whacked his violin students on the head with his bow whenever he, the teacher, became frustrated.
A teacher cannot crack when the student plays the wrong note for the hundredth time, so impatient musicians must carefully consider their suitability as teachers.
“Penny whistle teacher needed: Psychopaths with Intermittent Explosive Disorder need not apply.”
Instead of whopping students with a pernambuco stick with hair, my aforementioned colleague could have channeled his infinite aggression into another enjoyable branch in the music industry, such as fending off broken beer bottles at the country bar or smashing double-neck guitars for screaming mobs at GM Place. Last I heard he's still teaching at the music store, but has invested in a heavy carbon bow and a cocktail of barbiturates.
Once a player has established that teaching is a good direction to take and they have passed all the inkblot exams without incident, he or she needs to lay down a teaching foundation. Selecting a method book to use is one thing, but the teacher needs to develop a mission statement and their goals in teaching.
My mission focuses on two words: Inspiration and Encouragement. My goals include “music as a life experience” and sharing my love for violin among friends. The mission statement and goals serve as a guide whenever I am faced with a decision or problem in my work, it's sort of an operations manual for my business. And that's what teaching music really is: a business.
I urge all musicians who plan to make their music more than a hobby to take business classes on marketing and promotion, finances and taxes, and business plans. Learn to promote yourself because no one will know who you are if you just sit at home chatting on MSN (or posting violin blogs, for that matter).
Keep good financial records so you are prepared for tax season. There are far too many exceptional musicians, performers and teachers who are stuck on the dole or playing for the coming and going liquor store clientèle due to poor business practices.
You don't have to be a marketing whiz or a lawyer, though your mother would prefer such a career change so she can have her basement back. Just learn enough to keep yourself out of trouble with the tax man and to maintain a full compliment of paying, regular students. For more guidance I suggest the book “Making Money Teaching Music” by David and Barbara Newsam, available for a free read through the Okanagan Library system.
It seems to be an oxymoron, but it is possible to make money teaching music! So teenage musicians, nod your head, say “yes Rhiannon,” and do exactly everything I have ordained in the article above, then watch the money pour into your bank account.
Hallelujah!
And try not to spend it all at the music store filling the blank slots in your gear rack.
Amen.
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October 20, 2006 21:54
By Rhiannon Schmitt of http://www.fiddleheads.ca
Juno-award-winning Singer/ songwriter/ instrumentalist Shari Ulrich and I have “bumped” into each other several times this past few months. In true musician's spirit I've worn several hats in our dealings.
Our first meeting was of a business nature. She emailed when her violin bow broke and she was seeking to purchase a carbon fibre model from my violin shop. Incidentally she loved it and has written an awesome testimonial on my website.
I then contacted Shari under the auspices of the Shuswap Violin Society, a non-profit group I founded which provides scholarships, instruments and other support to local string players. Shari was asked to accept an Honourary Lifetime Membership with our group and graciously accepted, adding “Well how can a girl turn that down?!?!? I would be honoured!”
Soon after I learned the Salmon Arm Folk Music Society was hosting a “Songwriter's Cafe” where Shari was joined by John Mann (Spirit of the West), Norman Foote and Babe Gurr. I would finally have the opportunity to meet her in person and don my freelance writer's hat.
After a riveting and highly entertaining concert Shari and I chatted about music, motherhood, fiddles and other important stuff.
Rhiannon Schmitt: What was your motivation or a goal you had in mind when you first started playing violin? Had you seen a concert and been inspired or was it simply out of the blue?
Shari Ulrich: I grew up in the US - in Northern California where music was a program in the schools. In Grade 3 we were asked what instrument we wanted to play and given a little demonstration. My girlfriends and I all chose violin so we could be in the class together... very typical young girl motivation.
RS: That's interesting, my violin beginnings were almost exactly the same: a school orchestra program in San Diego, California. Now.. to dig out some dirt on you. Did your mother ever have to nag you to practice? Or was music just your special thing you were always dedicated to?
SU: Practicing was ALWAYS my nemesis - even today, though I recall doing LOTS of it. And yes, from time to time my mother said the same thing to me that I hear myself saying to my daughter - "There's no point in paying for lessons if you're not going to practice". (Which of course is TRUE). But in fact, my mother didn't nag me - nor do I nag my daughter - but neither could resist that remark. Later, in my early 20's, I had a period of earnest study for a few years.
RS: Regarding “young girl motivations,” I know my violin practice was neglected when I had a boyfriend. Did boys ever get in the way of your music?
SU: Ha! No, I'd say boys have always been a great asset to my music because I've virtually always had partners who were musicians! But in my teenage years I don't recall it being a conflict.
RS: So when did you first decide to become a professional musician or did it just happen?
SU: I came to Canada when I was about 19 - searching for what I was supposed to do with my life - my calling. Then I started playing with other musicians - doing this thing that had always been SO second nature to me that I never thought of it as a career. THEN the light went on and I realized MUSIC was MY THING.
RS: Were there ever times when you didn't think you had what it would take to become a professional musician?
SU: No - I've always known it to my core. But there have certainly been times that I felt under educated and not a good enough sight reader to be a TRUE professional musician, like my partner Bill is, who can sight read and play anything. I have my limitations. But my imagination doesn't.
RS: What do you do to overcome musical “slumps?”
SU: My slumps have been more getting weary of pushing the rock up the hill, because being a musician means creating your life every single day. And I had a vision for myself that entailed my music reaching a wider audience than it has because as I got older, my opportunities for industry support diminished. But knowing to my soul that music is what I'm meant to create and play and breathe has never taken a dip.
RS: Who was your biggest motivation, violin-wise, when you grew up?
SU: Hmm... I guess Stephan Grappelli though I couldn't play that style - Itzhak Perlman, hmmm... I can't say that I had a role model who inspired me.
RS: They're two of my idols too, and really lofty ones at that! The Juno Award in 1981 for Most Promising Female Artist, did you expect that?
SU: I couldn't say I "expected" it, but I certainly hoped it would happen. Winning is always a thrilling experience no matter what it is.
RS: What went through your mind as you accepted it?
SU: How cool it was that Bob and Doug McKenzie presented it! How badly I didn't want to screw up my speech.
RS: What did that award help you accomplish in years to come, or was it not a big deal to you?
SU: Yes it was a big deal, and looks great in the bio. It enhances opportunities but doesn't guarantee anything.
RS: You said motherhood was a challenge to balance with your career in the early days of infanthood and childhood. How did you balance it all and what helped you through those years raising your daughter?
SU: I took Julia everywhere with me - and started touring again when she was 6 weeks old - and worked more in that year than I ever had. It really bonded us. So it didn't effect my work life, but the focus of being a mother is utterly compelling and consuming - there is a choiceless-ness about it.
But I think what is impossible to hang on to is the creative drive that comes from time alone, which is never the same after having a child. The alone time is what drives my creativity, and after a child comes, even if you steal an hour here or there, it is just that - stolen time between duties rather than open ended stream of consciousness uninterrupted time.
Her Dad was a HUGE asset to it all working though. I was/is a fantastic parent and he was totally capable of being the stay at home guy the odd time that I didn't take her - 3, 4, 5 days at a time. He was amazing.
RS: Julia plays violin and has to study with another teacher and sometimes I think teaching my own son to play violin isn't a good idea. Why do you think children have to study with someone other than a parent?
SU: Oh, I wouldn't characterize it as "has to". I just knew that it wouldn't be good for our relationship - or for her opportunity to learn. And we have one of, I think, the best violin teachers on Bowen Island - Alison Nixon.
So I was happy to have her study with someone so great and not have the extra load of seeing her through learning an instrument. Plus, knowing how to play doesn't mean you're a great teacher, and I don't think I would have been a good teacher.
RS: If Julia or anyone else you know and care for wanted a life as a professional musician, what would your advice to them be?
SU: Do it because you LOVE it. Have a clean ego. Think of the audience as your ally. I know someone who doesn't actually like to perform because it triggers his insecurity - he feels resentment of the audience - that they are judging him - and who are they to judge him! That's unfortunate.
Be honest and authentic with your unique voice. Don't let "the industry" determine whether you have a career.
RS: Do you think it's possible to make a good living in gigging, or would you encourage such an individual to also consider teaching or another job as backup?
SU: I think it's good to surrender to it. Which means accepting that there is no real security, but having faith that your talent will provide for you. But teaching is a good back up income to have.
RS: Is it a life only select individuals have what it takes to make it work?
SU: Hmmm....I'd say so, yes.
RS: You've been teaching a Lyrics Course at UBC. How's that working out?
SU: I LOVE it. I love the kids - the process - and having my first regular paycheck!
RS: Are you considering settling down as a Prof someday and leaving the life of a traveling musician?
SU: I would never want to leave performing live, and couldn't imagine that ever being necessary. But I'd love to keep doing this job for awhile! I can't see myself ever really settling for just one path.
RS: Finally, tell me about your violin or violins.
SU: It's a German violin that I picked up in Victoria when my childhood one was stolen on route to my first Valdy and the Hometown Band gig in Victoria - it had been given to me by a Great Aunt when I'd won a smalls scholarship in Grade 7. It broke my heart, and I still search for it in stores.
For many years I played a white Barcus Berry electric. Regular body, but it sounded pretty grim acoustically. Then I went back to my "real" violin when I realized how much better it sounded.
RS: What would your dream violin sound like?
SU: Hmmm - like the one I play. My dream would be more about my own playing and tone. My dream would be to be a better player and be able to make any violin sound heartbreakingly beautiful.
RS: Shari, you're so great! Thank you for being an inspiration to so many and for taking the time to share your thoughts with us. I hope we see each other again soon.
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October 19, 2006 13:29
Violinist and fiddler Rhiannon Schmitt of Salmon Arm, BC, Canada has something musical to celebrate. The 29-year-old owner of Fiddleheads Violin Shop & School has just taken home a British Columbia regional music award, the 2006 Okanagan Musician Award for “Classical Artist of the Year.”
Last summer Schmitt was reading the annual press release with the complete list of nominees in twenty-four music categories and was completely shocked to see her name listed in the classical category. The nominees were selected by a reader's poll in a spring issue of BC Musician Magazine, a publication which Schmitt is a regular contributing writer.
“I figured I'd been nominated because I write a classical column for the magazine,” she said. “I saw the competition, who I admire very much, but I didn't imagine I had a chance of winning. They are all so good!”
Other classical nominess in the BC awards included guitarist Manfred, soprano Alexandra Babbel and violinist Melissa Wilmot. Each nominee was asked to submit a bio, photo and MP3 file for the judges' panel to review. The panel was made up of over a dozen Okanagan and area music and media professionals who carefully reviewed each of the 109 submissions.
Schmitt recorded her MP3 piece by piece between house renovations and her motherly duties. The sample featured selections of classical works as well as a tango and a Celtic rock tune. The sample can be heard at her website www.rhiannon.ca
At the awards show on September 26 Schmitt's name was called as winner and she almost did a double take.
“My husband was beside me and he yelled 'you won!' and I found myself wandering up to the stage,” she said. “It was surreal, like a dream. They were playing my music on the speakers and I thought how weird it was to be on stage and hear my music and yet I wasn't even playing!”
Schmitt had no prepared speech but thanked the awards show for the opportunity and her husband for being there with her. Schmitt also said how honoured she was to be nominated with such high-calibre musicians who she has enourmous respect for.
She gave special thanks to the community of Salmon Arm for their ongoing support of her violin school and shop and the Shuswap Violin Society, the non-profit music-focused group she started in 2003.
Salmon Arm musicians did very well in the awards. Other local winners include Gospel Artist/Group of the Year Greg Sczebel, Blues Artist/Group of the Year Salmon Armenians. Blu Hopkins and Silver Creek was nominated in the Bluegrass Artist/Group of the Year category.
More at http://www.fiddleheads.ca
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October 14, 2006 12:44
by Rhiannon Schmitt of http://www.fiddleheads.ca
Blair Borden is one of those people you notice when she walks into a room. Her confidence and
friendliness made her easy to get to know and easier to like. We always seemed to bump into each other at classical music concerts, art shows and other such community events. We've shared the same musicians' circle like moths enamored with a glowing bulb: our minds transfixed in the music scene of our small town.
I liked Blair from the first time we met. Blair's been a mover and a shaker in the local arts scene who gets a lot of work done. From events posters to playing with the Salmon Arm Community Band from its very inception, she’s been there 100 per cent. She is also a giver who would always rather donate than sell, volunteer than accept pay. She
touches lives with inspiring generosity and casually shrugs it off. Blair has contributed and shared and gifted and now she's given something dear to me that I never would have expected.
She phoned me in the morning in a voice not confident or cheery, but breathless and tired. She has been sick for some time. In her classic “carry-on” spirit, she carried on through the cancer. I frequently saw her at the pool keeping in shape and she still photographed music events with the same gusto as always. I asked her how she was feeling from time to time and she always had a positive attitude. She helped me reflect that my hectic day or stressful schedule was nothing worth complaining about when compared to her daily fight to survive.
Honestly, I never thought the cancer would win. She'd come out ahead and go on to write a song about the battle won. So it was with some seriousness and sadness that I entered my phone conversation with her today.
"I have a gift for you, just a little something, but you have to come here soon to get it,” she said with urgency. Blair explained the cancer has almost taken all of her and it is only a matter of time. The gift she had for me needed to be given.
We set a time after I finish teaching violin and she asked that my husband and son come along for her special presentation of the unknown gift.
What should I expect? I was reminded of losing my father to cancer just two years ago. Wait. Exactly two years ago to the day. Tonight was happening for a reason and the symbolism was clearer than could be believed.
We arrived at her country home minutes after dusk. She looked exhausted, but still smiled like the Blair I've known. She was to the point and led us directly into the next room, not wasting any time tonight.
“I have two basses,” she said, pointing at the enormous instruments lying on their sides; huge objects you'd know were there even if they weren't pointed out. I almost laughed out of nervousness.
“I want to give one to you,” she said. “This one here. Come into the other room and I'll explain the conditions.”
Jaws dropped, we followed her and obediently sat beside her. My husband smiled, my son fidgeted and I wanted to cry. It was all too real.
Blair explained that the bass was now to be the property of the Shuswap Violin Society, a non-profit group that loans
instruments to students in financial need and which I am Founding President. The news was wonderful as the group is in serious need of an upright bass, but I still could not find it in my heart to celebrate. Blair was dying and leaving her bass behind.
My husband stepped in, and, beaming ear to ear, thanked her for the amazingly generous gift. I nodded my approval and witnessed a glad transformation in her face. She was pleased, almost relieved, that her gift was received and appreciated. Blair went on to explain I had the responsibility, as its new guardian, to make sure the bass was played by people who knew what they were doing.
"They need to use the proper technique,” she said. "I know you're big on people playing well and that you'll make sure they take lessons and don't learn bad habits.” Blair trusted me to see that it was played well and I felt incredibly honoured to have that responsibility.
She explained the bow holds to an audience who already understood the concepts, but we went along for her enjoyment of it.
“There’s the German bow,” she held an imaginary bow in the air, “and the French.” Her tired hands would not cooperate as she tried to bend her fingers to illustrate. “I can’t do that anymore,” she said wearily and set her hands in her lap.
I felt tears well up inside. How sad to see a musician bid farewell to her instrument, the object of her attention and desire for thousands of hours, only to fall weak to sickness, and never play again. But yet she was not crying. She looked relieved.
Would I be so full of grace if I were giving away my dear violin and knowing I would never make music again? Would I be so detached?
Though she didn't know it, Blair was helping me work through my own pain. A pain I felt two years ago when I took
my father's guitar home after his death. He was just as beautifully detached from it all. The feeling was not so scary anymore. It was freeing.
This was her real gift to me.
Blair turned to my husband, an electric bass guitarist in his music college days, and said, "Play the thing properly, not like those bent over sideways bass guitar players!" We all laughed and shared a few musician stories before she needed to rest. Blair had not left us yet, she was just having a rare opportunity to set things right before it was her
time to leave.
Blair, we're thinking of you, dear, and will take good care of things when you do leave. Until then keep on making us smile with your jokes, your warmth and your inspiring generosity.
****
Shuswap Violin Society Website: http://www.violinsociety.ca
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October 5, 2006 19:31
A Soloist's Heroic Battle with a Bug
by Rhiannon Schmitt of http://www.fiddleheads.ca
After a grueling, bloody battle, it is now the climactic moment of truth. Our handsome hero hangs powerlessly off the sharp edge of a dusty cliff face by one clutching hand. Gravel is falling down past him and he shudders to think he could be next to succumb to that horrible fate. Tumbleweed blows past as his clawed grip weakens, his arm is desperate to yield to the immense pain searing through his arm.
He can hear a vulture in the distance, death looming with every gasping breath he takes. Just then the dark villain appears standing above him, a smug grin oozing from his scarred face, and he mercilessly plunges a dagger into our hero's grasping arm and cruelly twists it in the muscle. Oh the pain and anguish! What a tragic end!
But wait! Startlingly our hero musters every ounce of strength in his being to remove the blade with his free hand and hurl it at the chest of the evil villain. The hero smoothly ducks as the villain falls past to a smooshy death. Triumphantly our hero pulls himself over the cliff edge and back to safety. He mounts his steed and rides off as the golden sun sets over the mountains.
Cue applause.
Change just a couple details, like the dusty cliff and the hero being male, and that almost exactly describes my recent episode with a mosquito.
I was playing violin in a formal Victorian-style house concert. A difficult movement from "Siete Canciones Populares Español" by Manuel de Falla had reached a pinnacle, the painfully delicate and difficult ending. The last note, one single note, is held for an eternity, getting softer and softer, decaying under the candlelight.
My bow complained from exhaustion, at any moment about to plummet from the string to the stage but I controlled it with expertise and conviction. Gently, gently, I thought as I watched the bow hairs exhaust themselves, hardly any bow left and another 14 seconds to play.
Can it be done?
I heard a man in the front row stir in his seat and a moth banged against the smokey window pane when the horrible, blistering pain struck! Scorching fire seemed to consume the blood from my veins. Moments later another stabbing just inches above the first laceration, then another, and another! Dread hit me in a wave as I realized my piece was about to suffer an early end: 5 beats premature death!
Just then truth struck and I remembered that we violinists are a long line of tough, gritty survivalists. We've braved the rotten tomatoes and the "cat gut" jokes, not to mention learning to play such a backbreakingly difficult instrument in a world of critics. Fingers frozen, we haul our gear through wicked sleet and snow to attend weekly rehearsals for no pay.
When the humidity gets tough, the tuning gets tougher. Just like the leather-faced lawmen of the old west, the prima donna in the taffeta designer dress always wins and this size 9 wasn't about to let that mosquito take over my concert, dammit.
Somehow I summoned the fortitude to hang at that last diminishing note. The piece was over. I gracefully removed the violin from under my chin and skillfully swatted the disgusting bloodsucker off my right shoulder blade without making a smudge. It fell to the floor and I squished it with the heel of my boot. Victorious applause ensued as I curtsied and rubbed the red welts gently, a painful reminder of my foe.
Aside from the attack the concert was a smashing success, no pun intended. I summoned my last ounces of strength to perform the remainder of the program to my loyal audience. Like a crowd after a gunfight, the witnesses returned to their homes to share the gristly tale of survival. As soon as the candles were extinguished I took a moment in the shadows to examine the hideous scar that would mark me forever, or at least for the next week or so.
My narrowed eyes shifted to the little squashed blip on the hemlock floor. It was so tiny and benign smeared into the floor wax like that, a sad victim of its need to consume. She and I had both shed blood in the fight. I was lucky to come out with a scar. She lost her life. That's the way the west is, ruthless and cruel. It ain't pretty. You've gotta fight or else you'll get eaten alive.
I bowed my head in a moment of silence before I loaded up my fiddle, climbed into my air-conditioned Honda and drove off into the sunset.
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October 2, 2006 11:10
Fake labels, convincing replicas and other sleazy practices in violin sales
by Rhiannon Schmitt of http://www.fiddleheads.ca
The violin business has many treacherous tales to tell. With rare items selling at Christies for millions, the trade can be highly lucrative for swindlers, thus attracting unscrupulous salesman like fruit flies to sticky paper. As in other “make money quick” scams, such as the automotive industry and the current housing market, the violin industry has attracted all sorts of scary salespeople, excluding of course yours truly.
Not all violin sellers are dishonest, some of us nice folks are helpful, hard-working people who just love all things strings. But with an instrument that is surrounded in powerful mystique and glorified by films like “The Red Violin,” this high-profit market inspires many seedy entrepreneurs to cash in on the rotting old relic in the attic or snatch up “Lot No. Thirty” on auction to make a quick buck.
Such shysters get their sweaty paws on a find and greedily examine the label, hoping they've fetched a rare gem. But oh, dang. It doesn't say “Stradivarius?”
Sorry bub, but even if the label claimed to be a Strad, all the authentic ones have been accounted for. You're ain't gonna strike it rich on another dud swimming among a pestilent sea of million copies. Ahh, but some cunning salesmen have learned to change the label to suit their bank account, making fake labeling one of many infamous atrocities of the violin sales underworld.
The creepy craft of label forgery has become so rampant that it's difficult for most ordinary people, and even some experts, to tell authentic from fake. Some enterprising scoundrels photocopy images of actual violin labels from old reference books, usually those of rare and obscure makers. They then stain the paper with black tea and craftily glue the impostors into cheap violins posing as the real McCoy.
Voila! The value of this old junk has just miraculously inflated by 800%! It's a ghastly and highly unethical practice, but it is unfortunately done all the time.
I think some luthiers (violin makers/repairers) are like computer hackers. The shadier of the lot are remorseless show-offs who abuse their talents and take up a life of crime rather than producing honest work. Like the notorious “Mafiaboy” wrecking havoc on CNN's website for kicks, a similar deceptive creativity oozes from dishonest luthiers as they spawn very convincing forgeries of master instruments.
This is the nastier practice of copies. Not only is the label counterfeit, but even the violin is such a convincing forgery that it stumps the experts.
Case in point, the “Messiah Stradivarius” violin's authenticity has been disputed for years, resulting in anything from chemical analysis of the varnish and extensive grain examination. Some poor sods in lab coats spend weeks under a magnifying glass counting the tree rings in the wood to determine the actual age of the timber then somehow compare it to the date on the label.
The final decision, if the experts ever come to agreement, will make or break the assessed value of £10,000,000 so this science is taken very seriously.
Okay, it's not all lies and deceit. Some honest luthiers simply enjoy the challenge of creating a reproduction for players and collectors who can never afford the real deal. It's actually an intriguing and specialized art to create a violin worthy of the original maker. Simulated neck grafts, blurred labels, worn varnish indicating years of wear and intentional scrapes and dings instantly make a new violin more mysterious, adding to the appeal.
Certain copies are just as good as the original and it's fun to look over a copy and appreciate the detail the maker put into it. The difference here is that the buyer knows they are buying a copy and there is no huge hoopla when someone with far too much money pays $3 MILLION for a dud.
Forgery knows no decency and it doesn't stop at false labels and a few scrapes. I heard of a prominent violin shop in England that used to keep a drawer full of old dust bunnies they salvaged from violins coming through the shop on repair. A profit-hungry luthier crammed these nasty little morsels through the f-holes of violins for sale, obscuring the label and adding age to the violin. The buyer was tricked into thinking the violin was ancient enough to have accumulated such filth and believed it must be authentic.
Really, I'm not making this up.
Virtuous shop owners get our violins the old fashioned way: We order them from a supplier or maker, take instruments on trade or consignment from customers and buy from other dealers.
However some greedy wheeler-dealers sink pretty low and prey on the ignorance of the violin's owner in their home, usually an elderly person with a failing memory and an inability to stand up for himself. The wheeler dealer practically takes the fiddle for a song (mind the pun) and the seller catches on to the scam but only too late.
It's even been rumoured that some nasty violin barterers even check the obituaries and contact the next of kin of deceased violinists! But maybe that's a hair-raising story violinists tell their kids at the campfire.
This next chilling story really happened. During music college I was having a bow rehaired at a big city violin shop. The owner talked my bow down and said it wasn't really worth fixing up. This is the typical ruse employed to drive the price down. After this he casually offered me $100 for it in its poor condition. It was too darn fishy, so I didn't take him on his offer. I've since learned the bow is worth at least $1000 or much more if it's sold on auction.
Another bloodcurdling story. Recently the host of a house concert I was playing at brought out his old violin for me to see. Well, it wasn't really his violin but an unwanted replacement. He had taken his original violin in to some shop for repair and the owner secretly swapped it for an inferior violin and probably made big cash on the stolen one. By the time the owner realized he'd been duped it was too late and the shop had conveniently closed.
Are you spooked yet? How about this terrifying tale.
Before I knew much about violins I, too, was burned. The dealer I then trusted had an Italian violin worth $8000, then on his written appraisal he claimed it's replacement value was $10-$12K. I got it for only $4500. Was it too good to be true?
Yes. In the end it turns out the violin was only worth about $1000 and the “Italian” markings were indicative of a typical German school of violin making. I had saved for years and taken on several grueling gigs that summer to pay for it. I got my money back less $1000 after much arguing. I ended our business relationship and was what motivated me to learn more about violins and eventually open my own shop so this wouldn't happen to my students again.
There are many, many other spooky violin sales horror stories that will make your toes curl, but I don't want to give you bad dreams. Just do some research before buying or selling, ask lots of questions and if a deal ever feels fishy don't be pressured to go through with it. Soon you will buy and sell with confidence and you may even help weed out the weanies.
As for me, I've built excellent business relationships with reputable companies and dealers and I've made the personal decision to never burn anyone. I'll never get rich off this practice, but I sleep great at night and there are no skeletons in my closet.
Just old violin cases!
**You are welcome to contact me and I'd be happy to assist you violin-wise.
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More entries: November 2006 • September 2006
