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Brain Plasticity

Research from Germany is showing that virtuoso violin playing can make the brain too smart for its own good, but also that the adult brain is almost as malleable and plastic as the child's.

The way people learn to play the violin has shown that the adult brain is far more adaptable than many experts have thought in the past, and the researchers from the University of Konstanz have extended their findings to Braille readers.

Brain plasticity means the ability of the nervous system to adapt to changed circumstances, to find new ways of learning, sometimes after an injury or a stroke, but more commonly when you want to acquire a skill for, say, a hobby or even a new job.

One of the scientists who's worked on this and how our brains respond to environmental demands, is psychologist, Professor Thomas Elbert.

Thomas Elbert: Twenty years ago people thought that the structure of the brain develops during childhood and once that organisation in the brain has been developed that there is very little room for changes and for plastic alterations. Now we know that there is enormous capacity.

Norman Swan: Now you, earlier on, in exploring this idea that the adult brain is still very plastic, you looked at violin players.

Thomas Elbert: Well, violin players use the left hand and their fingers to finger the strings, and they do so several hours a day, and these fingertips get stimulated, and what we see there is that the representation of the left-hand fingers and the right hemisphere of the brain --

Norman Swan: I should explain here that the opposite side of the brain dictates the movements and perceives sensation from the actual side of the body where the movement or sensation occurs - it crosses over.

Thomas Elbert: Right, exactly. It crosses over, so in many string players the hand representation in the brain gets enlarged. So the brain assigns more tissue, more neural elements to the processing of these fingers.

Norman Swan: And that's compared to non-string players, obviously.

Thomas Elbert: That's compared to non-string players and also compared to the right-hand in these musicians, because the right-hand moves the bow and there's much less finger movement and much less stimulation of the fingertips involved.

Norman Swan: So the fingertip representation on the right side of the brain is just much, much larger than the one on the left?

Thomas Elbert: Exactly. And what we see is that if you start early in childhood playing the instrument, then this change is greater. But what is really now amazing and interesting and fantastic is that also if adult people start playing the instrument, they also change their representation, not to the extent as we see it when you start early playing the instrument, but it still occurs in adulthood.

Norman Swan: What's the technology that you use to measure this? Because in the old days there was a famous Canadian neurosurgeon who, when he just happened to be operating on the brains of his patients, he would measure with electrodes physically, and get them to move their hands. Presumably you're not doing this with violin players?

Thomas Elbert: No, we didn't find anyone who would allow us to open their skull, you know! So as neural elements function electrically, and with every electric process, every electric current has a magnetic field which is induced by the electric current, and we can detect this magnetic radiation.

Norman Swan: Tell me about the study you did with people who read using Braille.

Thomas Elbert: Yes, we have investigated several Braille readers, and there are those who used just one finger and others use several fingers at a time. And those who read Braille for several hours a day, and use several fingers simultaneously, instead of having several separate representations of the different fingertips develops a kind of merged, giant large finger, or a large representation of all the fingers simultaneously in the brain.


So to speak a super highway of information from the fingertips to the centres of the brain where all that information is merged and so these people perceive at the same time, all the information from the different fingertips.

On the other hand, they are no more able then to determine where the information comes from. I think normal people have a little bit the same kind of fusion and disorder representation of their toes, because they stimulate the toes simultaneously usually in the shoes and we do not develop separate representation of the toes. Whereas with the fingers we develop separate representations in the brain.

Norman Swan: So what's happening then with Braille readers who use three fingers, is it that three fingers act as one? And I notice from your research that if you in fact touch their fingers... in other words if my finger or your fingers were to be touched, we would know which finger's being touched. But in fact blind Braille readers who use three fingers, they're not sure which finger's being touched of those three fingers.

Thomas Elbert: Correct. If I do that with your toes, it's the same thing. If I touch your toes, your middle toes, you will not be able to tell me which one has been touched. Whether you believe it or not, you can try this. The same thing happens with these brain readers. Only those who use several fingers with the reading at the time, then the information fuses and merges in the brain, and then of course they're no more able to tell where the information at a given location comes from.

Norman Swan: With one-fingered Braille readers? What happens with them?

Thomas Elbert: They don't have this 'fused' representation of the fingers, but actually the finger used for Braille reading, this finger has an enlarged representation.

Norman Swan: So it becomes a super finger.

Thomas Elbert: It becomes a large finger, yes.

Norman Swan: Are three-fingered Braille readers better Braille readers than one-fingered Braille readers?

Thomas Elbert: It seems to be so, yes. They seem to be faster.

Norman Swan: Going back to the original reason for doing the experiment in terms of whether the adult brain is plastic, most of these people would have learnt to read Braille as children. What about people who learn to read Braille as adults?

Thomas Elbert: We basically see the same thing. Again, the amount of adaptation is smaller than compared to the ones who start as children, particularly before the age of ten. But we still see very significant changes, and a rough estimate is that the plasticity is about half as large as an adult but still it's clearly there.

Norman Swan: So what are the implications of these findings?

Thomas Elbert: Well first of all it's very interesting from a basic point of view, but we also hope to apply this information to certain types of disorders. For example, in the musicians, if they are virtuosos, then they can move their fingers very quickly, very fast, and it's like a simultaneous input to the fingers, and the brain's integration time may then think that there's simultaneous input to two fingers at a time and as a consequence these people may no more be able to move fingers so quickly. This order is called focal dystonia of the hand, and then like a hand-cramp may develop and this is of course very fatal for a musician.

Norman Swan: So you have a violin player in whom not only are his or her fingers being 'read' in the brain as one, but in fact they start in a physical sense, in a 'muscle sense', to act as one.

Thomas Elbert: Exactly.

Norman Swan: How do you fix this up?

Thomas Elbert: We know that the synchronous input basically causes such problems, and these people of course first think it's maybe a peripheral problem, problems of the muscles, so that they can no more move the fingers separately, whereas in fact it is the brain representations that meld together. And we just then have a training schedule that stimulates the fingers and there they have to move the fingers in a certain very defined manner in order to separate these brain regions again.

Norman Swan: Mind boggling research there, so to speak. Thomas Elbert is Professor of Psychology at the University of Konstanz in Germany.

Guests:

Thomas Elbert
Thomas Elbert is Professor of Psychology at the University of Konstanz in Germany.

More information:

Changed perceptions in Braille readers

Sterr A. et al. Changed perceptions in Braille readers. Nature 1998;391:134-135

The rise to fame of a master instrument maker

Antonio Stradivari (c1644-1737) is, with his Italian compatriot Giuseppe Guarneri Del Gesu, the most famed of luthiers. He began crafting stringed instruments in 1680, establishing his workshop in Cremona, Italy, where he stayed until his death aged 93, father to 11 children. He made more than 1,100 instruments – violins, but also cellos, a few violas and a harp – 650 of which survive today. His creations were inscribed with Latin slogans along the lines of Antonius Stradivarius Cremonensis Faciebat Anno [date]. The instruments considered his most expressive were made in the first quarter of the 18th century, but long before then he had established his fame with the "Viotti violin" – first played by Giovanni Battista Viotti at the Tuileries Palace in Paris in 1782, and now valued at £3.5m. Toby Faber, the author of a biography of Stradivari, Five Violins, One Cello and a Genius, believes: "Before Viotti, Stradivari was just one violin-maker among many. After him, everyone wanted to play a Strad." On 16 May 2006, Christie's auctioned a Stradivarius called The Hammer for a record $3.54m (£1.75m).

Secrets of Stradivarius Explained

Scientists may finally have discovered the secret of Stradivarius violins.

In a study published yesterday in Public Library of Science ONE, Dutch researchers ran five of the peerless instruments, made in the early 18th century by Italian craftsman Antonio Stradivari and synonymous with harmonic perfection, through a CT scanner.

The resulting three-dimensional X-rays revealed that wood used in Stradivari's violins possessed an exceptionally uniform density, with little variation in growth rings added by trees each season.

Summertime growth typically outpaces wintertime growth, producing broad rings of relatively permeable wood that alternate with narrow, dense winter bands. That differential affects the wood's harmonic qualities.

Fortunately for Stradivari, he lived during the Little Ice Age: trees grew little more in summer than in winter. Hence the uniformly dense wood, hence three centuries of experts baffled by the resonance of Stradivarius violins, which have been variously attributed to varnishes, boiling and submersion in ponds.

A question, Wired Science readers: uniformly dense wood made Stradivari's violins sound better. Are there musical instruments that would benefit from the highly variable grains likely produced in the wildy oscillating growing seasons of our changing climate?

The secret at last?

Many other theories have been put forward to account for the Stradivarius secret. The most popular for well over a century has been that the varnish had some sort of "magic" composition. The main function of the varnish is to protect the instrument from dirt and to stop it absorbing moisture from the player's hands. The varnish also imparts great aesthetic value to the instrument, with its translucent coating highlighting the beautiful grain structure of the wood below.

However, historical research has shown that the varnish is no different to that used by many furniture makers when Stradivari was alive. Claire Barlow and co-workers at Cambridge University, for example, have used electron microscopy to identify many of the important ingredients of the varnish itself, and the materials that are used to smooth the surface before the varnish is applied. It turns out that most could easily have been bought from the pharmacist shop next to Stradivari's workshop. Apart from the possibility that the varnish was contaminated with the wings of passing insects and debris from the workshop floor, there is no convincing evidence to support the idea of a secret formula!

Indeed, ultraviolet photography has revealed that many fine-sounding Italian violins have lost almost all their original varnish, and were recoated during the 19th century or later. The composition of the varnish is therefore unlikely to be the long-lost secret, although too much varnish would certainly increase the damping and therefore sully the tone.

Other researchers, meanwhile, have claimed that Stradivari's secret was to soak the wood in water, to leach out supposedly harmful chemicals, before it was seasoned. Although this would be consistent with the idea that the masts and oars of recently sunken Venetian war galleys might have been used to make violins, the scientific and historical evidence to support this view is unconvincing.

Over the last 150 years, physicists have made considerable progress in understanding the way the violin works. In the 19th century the "modernized" Stradivarius violin emerged with an "enhanced" tone as a result of scientifically guided "improvements" by the leading violin restorers of the day. However, Stradivari would be amazed to find that the modern musical world credits him with such a secret. After all, how could he possibly have had the clairvoyance to foresee that his instruments would be extensively modified in the 19th century to produce the kind of sound we value so highly today? Indeed, those sounds would have been totally alien to the musical tastes of his time!

Science has not provided any convincing evidence for the existence or otherwise of any measurable property that would set the Cremonese instruments apart from the finest violins made by skilled craftsman today. Indeed, some leading soloists do occasionally play on modern instruments. However, the really top soloists - and, not surprisingly, violin dealers, who have a vested interest in maintaining the Cremonese legend of intrinsic superiority - remain utterly unconvinced.

Maybe there is an essential aspect of violin quality that we are still failing to recognize. Many violinists say they can distinguish an instrument with a fine "Italian Cremonese sound" from one with, say, a more "French" tone, such as my Vuillaume violin. But we still do not know how to characterize such properties in meaningful physical terms.

What we need is more research, with high-quality violinists working with psycho-acousticians, scientists and sympathetic violin makers, to make further progress in solving this challenging and fascinating problem.

The Effects Of Wood

Another factor that affects the quality of a violin is the internal damping of the wood. This strongly affects the multi-resonant response of the instrument and the overall background at high frequencies. In particular, the difference between the peaks and troughs of the resonant response is determined by the quality-factor of the resonances. This largely depends on internal losses within the wood when it vibrates: only a small fraction of the energy is lost by acoustic radiation.

The strongly peaked frequency response of the violin has a dramatic influence on the sound produced when "vibrato" is used. In this playing technique, the finger stopping the string is cyclically rocked backwards and forwards, periodically changing the pitch of the note. Because the response has such strong peaks and troughs, any change in pitch also produces cyclic variations in the overall amplitude, waveform and spectral content of the sound.

Vibrato is very common nowadays because it captures and holds the attention of the listener, enabling the solo violin to be heard even when accompanied by a large orchestra. It would have been considered far less important when Stradivari was alive because vibrato was used only for special theatrical effects and the violin was expected to blend in with other instruments.

Vibrato adds a certain "lustre" and interest to the quality of sound produced because the ear is particularly sensitive to changes in the waveform. In a recent radio broadcast, for example, the English violinist Tasmin Little demonstrated the marvellous tone of the Stradivarius violin used by Nathan Milstein, one of the finest violinists of recent times. After playing just a few notes on the violin, she described the tone as "wonderfully exciting, almost deafening, very vibrant. It is alive. It has an incredible ring under my ear. It is amazing". There can be little doubt that Little's subjective assessment is directly related to the extremely large changes in amplitude, waveform and spectral content associated with the use of vibrato, which gives "life and vibrancy" to the sound.

To achieve such large changes in the frequency response of the violin, the individual resonances of the instrument have to be strongly peaked, which requires high-quality wood with low internal damping. Unfortunately, wood can absorb water, which increases the damping: this explains why violinists often notice that the responsiveness of an instrument, which includes the ability to control the sound quality using vibrato, changes with temperature and humidity.

The choice of high-quality wood for making instruments has always been recognized by violin makers, and well seasoned wood is generally recommended. However, by measuring the pattern of growth-rings in the wood of a Stradivarius, we know that the Italian violin makers sometimes used planks of wood that had only been seasoned for five years. However, such wood is now 300 years old, and the intrinsic internal damping will almost certainly have decreased with time, as the internal organic structure has dried out.

The same will obviously be true for all old Italian instruments. The age of the wood may therefore automatically contribute to the improved quality of the older instruments. This may also explain why the quality of a modern instrument appears to change in its first few years. Surprisingly, many players still believe that their instruments improve because they are loved and played well, which would be very difficult to explain on any rational scientific basis!

How To Make a Good Violin

So how do skilled violin makers optimize the tone of an instrument during the construction process? They begin by selecting a wood of the highest possible quality for the front and back plates, which they test by tapping with a hammer and judging how well it "rings".

The next important step is to skilfully carve the plates out of the solid wood, taking great care to get the right degree of arching and variations in thickness. The craftsman has to learn how to adjust the plates to produce a fine-sounding instrument. Traditional makers optimize the thickness by testing the "feel" of the plates when they are flexed, and by the sounds produced when the are tapped at different positions with the knuckles. This is the traditional equivalent of nodal analysis, with the violin maker's brain providing the interpretative computing power.

However, in the last 50 years or so, a group of violin makers has emerged who have tried to take a more overtly scientific approach to violin making. The pioneer in this field was Carleen Hutchins, the doyenne of violin acoustics in the US. Now almost 90 years old, but still active in the field, she founded the Catgut Society of America in 1958, together with William Saunders of "Russell-Saunders coupling" fame and John Schelling, a former director of radio research at Bell Labs. The society brings together violin makers and scientists from across the world, with the common aim of advancing our understanding of violin acoustics and developing scientific methods to help makers improve the quality of their instruments.

One common practice that has been adopted by violin makers has been to replace the traditional flexing and tapping of plates by controlled measurements. During the carving process, the thinned plates are suspended horizontally above a large loudspeaker. The acoustic resonances excited by the loudspeaker can readily be identified by sprinkling glitter onto the surface of the plates. When the loudspeaker has excited a resonance, the glitter bounces up and down, and moves towards the nodal lines of the resonant modes excited (figure 7). The aim is to interactively thin or "tune" the first few free-plate resonances to specified frequencies and nodal patterns.

Unfortunately, there are very few examples of such measurements for really fine Italian instruments because their owners are naturally reluctant to allow their violins to be taken apart for the sake of science. The relatively few tests that have been performed suggest that the early Italian makers may have tuned the resonant modes of the individual plates - which they could identify as they tapped them - to exact musical intervals. This would be consistent with the prevailing Renaissance view of "perfection", which was measured in terms of numbers and exact ratios.

Members of the "scientific" school of violin makers might reasonably claim that this could be the lost Stradivarius secret. However, it must indeed have been secret, since there is no historical evidence to support the case. Although many first-class modern violins have been built based on these principles, there is little evidence to suggest that they are any better than many fine instruments made with more traditional methods.

However, neither traditional craftsmanship nor scientific methods can hope to control the detailed resonant structure of an instrument in the acoustically important range above 1 kHz. Even the tiniest changes in the thickness of the plates will significantly affect the specific resonances in this frequency range, as will the inevitable variations in the properties of the wood. Furthermore, the frequencies and distribution of the resonant modes of the violin depend on the exact position of the sound post, which imposes an additional constraint on the modes that can be excited. Top players regularly return their instruments to violin makers, who move the sound post and adjust the bridge in an effort to optimize the sound. This means that there is no unique set of vibrational characteristics for any particular instrument - not even a Stradivarius!


The Role of Resonances

The existence of so many resonances at almost random frequencies means that there is simply is no such thing as a "typical" waveform or spectrum for the sound from a violin. Indeed, there is just as much variation between the individual notes on a single instrument as there is between the same note played on different instruments. This implies that the perceived tone of a violin must be related to overall design of the instrument, rather than to the frequencies of particular resonances on an instrument.

An interesting attempt to look for such global properties was recently made by the violin maker Heinrich Dünnwald in Germany. He measured the acoustic output of 10 Italian violins, 10 fine modern copies and 10 factory-made violins, all of which were excited by an electromagnetic driver on one side of the bridge (figure 4). Between 400 and 600 Hz, the factory-made violins were found - surprisingly - to be closer to the Italian instruments than the modern copies. At frequencies above 1000 Hz, however, the factory-made instruments had a rather weak response - in contrast to the over-strong response of the modern violins, which may contribute to a certain shrillness in their quality.

In practice it is extremely difficult to distinguish between a particularly fine Stradivarius instrument and an indifferent modern copy on the basis of the measured response alone. The ear is a supreme detection device and the brain is a far more sophisticated analyser of complex sounds than any system yet developed to assess musical quality.

Although such measurements give the frequencies of important acoustic resonances, they tell us nothing about the way a violin actually vibrates. A powerful technique for investigating such vibrations is called time-averaged interference holography. Bernard Richardson, a physicist at Cardiff University in the UK, has made a number of such studies on the guitar and violin. Some particularly beautiful examples for the guitar are shown in figure 5. Unfortunately, it is not easy to obtain similar high-quality images for the violin because it is smaller, the vibrations of the surface are smaller, and the surfaces of the violin are more curved and less reflective than those of the guitar.

Another powerful approach is modal analysis: a violin is lightly struck with a calibrated hammer at several positions and the transient response at various points is measured with a very light accelerometer. These responses are then analysed by computer to give the resonant frequencies and structural modes of vibration of the whole instrument. This technique has been used to teach students about violin acoustics at the famous Mittenwald school of violin making in Germany and by Ken Marshall in the US. Marshall has also shown that the way the violin is held has little effect on its resonant response.

Similar information can be obtained by finite-element analysis: the violin is modelled as a set of masses that are connected by springs, which makes it relatively straightforward to evaluate the resonant modes and associated vibrations of the whole structure (figure 6). Various physical parameters of the materials used to make the violin can also be incorporated in the calculations. It is then possible to construct a virtual violin and to predict all its vibrational and acoustic properties. This might be the first step towards designing a violin with a specified response and hence tonal quality - once we know how to define "quality" in a measurable way.

How a Violin Makes a Noise

The sawtooth force that is generated on the top of the bridge by a bowed string is the input signal that forces the violin to vibrate and radiate sound - rather like the electrical input to a loudspeaker, albeit with a much more complicated frequency response. The input sawtooth waveform has a rich harmonic content, consisting of numerous Fourier components.

Since the violin is a linear system, the same Fourier components or "partials" appear in the output of the violin. The amplitude of each partial in the radiated sound is determined by the response of the instrument at that particular frequency. This is largely determined by the mechanical resonances of the bridge and by the body of the instrument. These resonances are illustrated schematically in figure 3, where typical responses have been mathematically modelled to simulate their influence on the sound produced.

At low frequencies the bridge simply acts as a mechanical lever, since the response is independent of frequency. However, between 2.5 and 3 kHz the bowing action excites a strong resonance of the bridge, with the top rocking about its narrowed waist section. This boosts the intensity of any partials in this frequency range, where the ear is most sensitive, and gives greater brightness and carrying power to the sound. Another resonance occurs at about 4.5 kHz in which the bridge bounces up and down on its two feet. Between these two resonances there is a strong dip in the transfer of force to the body. Thankfully this dip decreases the amplitude of the partials at these frequencies, which the ear associates with an unpleasant shrillness in musical quality.

The sinusoidal force exerted by the bridge on the top plate produces an acoustic output that can be modelled mathematically. The output increases dramatically whenever the exciting frequency coincides with one of the many vibrational modes of the instrument. Indeed, the violin is rather like a loudspeaker with a highly non-uniform frequency response that peaks every time a resonance is excited. The modelled response is very similar to many recorded examples made on real instruments.

In practice, quite small changes in the arching, thickness and mass of the individual plates can result in big changes in the resonant frequencies of the violin, which is why no two instruments ever sound exactly alike. The multi-resonant response leads to dramatic variations in the amplitudes of individual partials for any note played on the violin.

Such factors must have unconsciously guided the radical redesign of the bridge in the 19th century. Violinists often place an additional mass (the "mute") on the top of the bridge, effectively lowering the frequency of the bridge resonances. This results in a much quieter and "warmer" sound that players often use as a special effect. It is therefore surprising that so few players - or even violin makers - recognize the major importance of the bridge in determining the overall tone quality of an instrument.

One of the reasons for the excellent tone of the very best violins is the attention that top players give to the violin set-up - rather like the way in which a car engine is tuned to get the best performance. Violinists will, for example, carefully adjust the bridge to suit a particular instrument - or even select a different bridge altogether. The sound quality of many modern violins could undoubtedly be improved by taking just as much care in selecting and adjusting the bridge.

The transfer of energy from the vibrating string to the acoustically radiating structural modes is clearly essential for the instrument to produce any sound. However, this coupling must not be too strong, otherwise the instrument becomes difficult to play and the violinist has to work hard to maintain the Helmholtz wave. Indeed, a complete breakdown can occur when a string resonance coincides with a particularly strongly coupled and lightly damped structural resonance.

When this happens the sound suddenly changes from a smooth tone to a quasi-periodic, uncontrollable, grunting sound - the "wolf-note". Players minimize this problem by wedging a duster against the top plate to dampen the vibrational modes, or by placing a resonating mass, the "wolf-note adjuster", on one of the strings on the far side of the bridge. However, this only moves the wolf-note to a note that is not played as often, rather than eliminating it entirely.

The Helmholtz motion of the string and the wolf-note problem were extensively studied by the Indian physicist Chandrasekhara Raman in the early years of the 20th century. His results were published in a series of elegant theoretical and experimental papers soon after he founded the Indian Academy of Sciences and before the work on optics that earned him the Nobel Prize for Physics in 1930.

How Strings Vibrate

The sinusoidal standing waves that are familiar to all physicists. Although the string vibrates back and forth parallel to the bowing direction, Helmholtz showed that other transverse vibrations of the string could also be excited, made up of straight-line sections. These are separated by "kinks" that travel back and forth along the string and are reflected at the ends. The kinks move with the normal transverse-wave velocity, c = (T/)1/2, where T is the tension and m the mass per unit length of the string. The bowing action excites a Helmholtz mode with a single kink separating two straight sections

When the kink is between the bow and the fingered end of the string, the string moves at the same speed and in the same direction as the bow. Only a small force is needed to lock the two motions together. This is known as the "sticking regime" (figure 2a). But as soon as the kink moves past the bow - on its way to the bridge and back - the string slips past the bow and starts moving in the opposite direction to it. This is known as the "slipping regime"

Although the sliding friction is relatively small in the slipping regime, energy is continuously transferred from the strings to the vibrational modes of the instrument at the bridge. Each time the kink reflects back from the bridge and passes underneath the bow, the bow has to replace the lost energy. It therefore exerts a short impulse on the string so that it moves again at the same velocity as the bow.

This process is known as the "slip-stick" mechanism of string excitation and relies on the fact that sliding friction is much smaller than sticking friction (figure 2c). The Helmholtz wave generates a transverse force Tsinq on the bridge, where q is the angle of the string at the bridge. This force increases linearly with time, but its amplitude reverses suddenly each time the kink is reflected at the bridge, producing a sawtooth waveform . The detailed physics of the way a bow excites a string has been extensively studied by Michael McIntyre and Jim Woodhouse at Cambridge University, who have made a number of important theoretical and experimental contributions to violin acoustics in recent years.

It is important to recognize that the Helmholtz wave is a free mode of vibration of the string. The player has to apply just the right amount of pressure to excite and maintain the waveform without destroying it. The lack of such skill is one of the main reasons why the sound produced by a beginner is so excruciating. Conversely, the intensity, quality and subtlety of sound produced by great violinists is mainly due to the fact that they can control the Helmholtz waveform with the bow. The quality of sound produced by any violin therefore depends as much on the bowing skill of the violinist as on the physical properties. One of the reasons that the great Cremonese violins sound so wonderful is because we hear them played by the world's greatest players!



The Components of a Violin

To understand the factors that determine the quality of sound produced by particular instruments, we must first recall how the violin works (figure 1b). Sound is produced by drawing a bow across one or more of the four stretched strings. The string tensions are adjusted by tuning pegs at one end of the string, so that their fundamental frequencies are about 200, 300, 440 and 660 Hz - which correspond to the notes G, D, A and E. However, the strings themselves produce almost no sound.

To produce sound, energy from the vibrating string is transferred to the main body of the instrument - the so-called sound box. The main plates of the violin act rather like a loudspeaker cone, and it is the vibrations of these plates that produce most of the sound.

The strings are supported by the "bridge", which defines the effective vibrating length of the string, and also acts as a mechanical transformer. The bridge converts the transverse forces of the strings into the vibrational modes of the sound box. And because the bridge has its own resonant modes, it plays a key role in the overall tone of the instrument.

The front plate of the violin is carved from a solid block of fine-grained pine. Maple is usually used for the back plate and pine for the sides. Two expertly carved and elegantly shaped "f-holes" are also cut into the front plate. The carving of the f-holes often helps to identify the maker of a valuable instrument: never rely on the label inside the violin to spot a fake instrument as the label will probably have been forged as well.

The f-holes play a number of important acoustic roles. By breaking up the area of the front plate, they affect its vibrational modes at the highest frequencies. More importantly, they boost the sound output at low frequencies. This occurs through the "Helmholtz air resonance", in which air bounces backwards and forwards through the f-holes. The resonant frequency is determined by the area of the f-holes and the volume of the instrument. It is the only acoustic resonance of the instrument over which violin makers have almost complete control.

Early in the 16th century it was discovered that the output of stringed instruments could be increased by wedging a solid rod - the "sound post" - between the back and front plates, close to the feet of the bridge. The force exerted by the bowed strings causes the bridge to rock about this position, causing the other side of the plate to vibrate with a larger amplitude. This increases the radiating volume of the violin and produces a much stronger sound.

The violin also has a "bass bar" glued underneath the top plate, which stops energy being dissipated into acoustically inefficient higher-order modes. The bass bar and sound post were both made bigger in the 19th century to strengthen the instrument and to increase the sound output.


Science and the Stradivarius

Stradivarius violins are among the most sought-after musical instruments in the world. But is there a secret that makes a Stradivarius sound so good, and can modern violins match the wonderful tonal quality of this great Italian instrument?

Is there really a lost secret that sets Stradivarius violins apart from the best instruments made today? After more than a hundred years of vigorous debate, this question remains highly contentious, provoking strongly held but divergent views among players, violin makers and scientists alike. All of the greatest violinists of modern times certainly believe it to be true, and invariably perform on violins by Stradivari or Guarneri in preference to modern instruments.

Violins by the great Italian makers are, of course, beautiful works of art in their own right, and are coveted by collectors as well as players. Particularly outstanding violins have reputedly changed hands for over a million pounds. In contrast, fine modern instruments typically cost about £10 000, while factory-made violins for beginners can be bought for under £100. Do such prices really reflect such large differences in quality?

The violin is the most highly developed and most sophisticated of all stringed instruments. It emerged in Northern Italy in about 1550, in a form that has remained essentially unchanged ever since. The famous Cremonese violin-making families of Amati, Stradivari and Guarneri formed a continuous line of succession that flourished from about 1600 to 1750, with skills being handed down from father to son and from master to apprentice. The popular belief is that their unsurpassed skills, together with the magical Stradivarius secret, were lost by the start of the 19th century.

Every violin, whether a Stradivarius or the cheapest factory-made copy, has a distinctive "voice" of its own. Just as any musician can immediately recognize the difference between Domingo and Pavarotti singing the same operatic aria, so a skilled violinist can distinguish between different qualities in the sound produced by individual Stradivari or Guarneri violins. The challenge for scientists is to characterize such differences by physical measurements. Indeed, over the last century and a half, many famous physicists have been intrigued by the workings of the violin, with Helmholtz, Savart and Raman all making vital contributions.

It is important to recognize that the sound of the great Italian instruments we hear today is very different from the sound they would have made in Stradivari's time. Almost all Cremonese instruments underwent extensive restoration and "improvement" in the 19th century. You need only listen to "authentic" baroque groups, in which most top performers play on fine Italian instruments restored to their former state, to recognize the vast difference in tone quality between these restored originals and "modern" versions of the Cremonese violins.

Prominent among the 19th-century violin restorers was the French maker Vuillaume, whose copy of a Guarnerius violin is shown in figure 1a. Vuillaume worked closely with Felix Savart, best known to physicists for the Biot-Savart law in electromagnetism, to enhance the tone of early instruments. Vuillaume, Savart and others wanted to produce more powerful and brilliant sounding instruments that could stand out in the larger orchestras and concert halls of the day. Improvements in instrument design were also introduced to support the technical demands of great violin virtuosi like Paganini.

Some sell for more than $3.5 million. Only 700 of them exist, and they’re stored in vaults, frequently stolen and often counterfeited.

The object in question? Stradivarius violins, constructed by famed Italian instrument-maker Antonio Stradivari between 1680 and 1720. Treasured for possessing sublime acoustic properties, these rare instruments have spawned dozens of theories attempting to explain their legendary tone, and luthiers, makers of stringed instruments, are still trying to reproduce it.

The question remains: Are Stradivarius violins worth all the fuss?

There’s no objective answer, said James Lyon, Penn State professor of music in violin. When Stradivari was crafting violins, most musicians performed in churches and courts. Rulers and the wealthy sponsored artists to enhance their prestige. As music moved away from this patronage system in the first half of the 19th century, Lyon explained, musicians’ careers became dependent on fitting more people into concert halls. Thus, although they were originally built for much smaller venues, almost every Strad still around today has been altered to sound best in a large concert hall setting.

The violin world frequently stages blind tests of modern and vintage violins, including Stradivari’s, Lyon noted, and as often as not the audience prefers the sound of the modern instruments. But many musicians and luthiers argue that these tests are virtually meaningless. For one thing, the player usually knows which violin is the Stradivarius and could unintentionally bias the results by playing the fabled instrument differently. For another, even trained musicians can’t reliably pick out the sound of a Strad, he said.

Asking people to choose between modern and vintage violins, said Lyon, is like asking their favorite ice cream flavor. You never get complete agreement because people like different things. In addition, it takes a while to get to know an instrument, and the testing format doesn’t allow for this. Sometimes half a year after purchasing an instrument, Lyon explained, the player “is still learning how it wants to be played.”

Still, luthiers since Stradivari’s time have tried to reproduce the classic “Strad” sound. Some claim the secret lies in the craftsmanship, others the varnish, others the wood. Virtually every aspect of the violin has been touted as the key. Scientists, too, have tackled the question from various angles.

Some chemical analyses suggest that the smooth, mellifluous tones may have resulted, in part, from an application of an oxidizing mineral such as borax, often used in Stradivari’s day to prevent woodworm infestation. Dendrochronology, the study of annual growth rings in trees, suggests that the wood Stradivari used grew largely during the Little Ice Age that prevailed in Europe from the mid-1400s to the mid-1800s. Long winters and cool summers produced very dense wood with outstanding resonance qualities, the thinking goes. The dense wood also helps the instruments stand up over hundreds of years of use.

In light of the dozens of theories put forth to explain the Stradivarius reputation, Lyon can’t choose just one. “I think there’s likely no magic bullet here. Stradivari was just an incredibly consistent craftsman, and he was a real groundbreaker.” But given technological advances over the last 300 years, he added, it seems crazy to assume that the old luthiers knew everything there was to know about their trade.

The mystique remains, however. Asked if putting aside the monetary value of the instrument, he would like to have a Stradivarius to play, Lyon said, “Yes, I can’t imagine anyone who wouldn’t. Partly it’s the history that goes with them.”

What makes a Stradivarius violin so great?

Unlike our sorry collection of baseball cards, Stradivarius violins have a lot more than just sentimental value. In fact, one was recently auctioned for $3.5 million. Such a large sum begs the question -- what makes Stradivarius violins so special? As far as we can tell, there are three main reasons.

One, they're rare. If our time in Economics 101 taught us anything, it's that often, the rarer something is, the more valuable it becomes. According to several sources, there are less than 700 Stradivarius violins in existence today (considerably less than the number of baseball cards rotting in our basement).

Two, they're old. Each violin was constructed by Antonio Stradivari, whose work was commissioned by both England's King James II and King Charles III of Spain. Stradivari, who unlike many great artists, was actually appreciated in his lifetime, died in 1737. Going with him was his method of construction.

Which brings us to three: A Stradivarius violin sounds much better than anything else. Some say the glue Stradivari used is responsible. Others believe it's the density of the wood. In 2001, a biochemist named Joseph Nagyvary attempted to "emulate" the sound. He concluded the chemical borax is the secret ingredient. According to Nagyvary, borax not only protected the wood, it also "bound the molecules of wood together, altering the sound."

the mystery of why Stradivarius violins are best

They are said to produce unparalleled sound quality. Until now, however, no one has been able to explain why 300-year-old Stradivarius violins have never been matched in terms of musical expressiveness and projection.

A study has found that the secret may be explained by the consistent density of the two wooden panels used to make its body, rather than anything to do with the instrument's overall contours, varnish, angle of the neck, fingerboard or strings.

Scientists compared five antique violins made by the Cremonese masters Antonio Stradivari and Giuseppe Guarneri Del Gesu with seven modern-day instruments by placing them in a medical scanner that could accurately gauge the density of the two wooden plates that make up the top and the back of the body.

They found that, overall, the density of the two groups of violins was the same, but what differed significantly was that the two plates of the older instruments had a more uniform density compared to the more inconsistent densities of the modern plates.

The top plate of a violin is usually made of spruce and the back of maple. The scientists believe that the homogenous density of the Cremonese violins gives them the edge in terms of stiffness and sound-damping characteristics, which both help to produce superior musical notes.

The classical violins made by the two Cremonese masters have become the benchmark against which the sound of all other violins are compared. Yet by general consensus no instrument maker since that time has been able to replicate the sound quality of those early violins, said Berend Stoel of Leiden University in the Netherlands.

"The vibration and sound-radiation characteristics of a violin are determined by an instrument's geometry and the material properties of the wood. New test methods allow the non-destructive examination of one of the key material properties, the wood density, at the growth ring level of detail," Dr Stoel said.

The CT scanner used by the scientists is normally employed to study the density of the tissue within a patient's lungs using X-rays. However, Dr Stoel, working with a professional instrument-maker, Terry Borman, of Fayetteville in Arkansas, was able to build up a picture of a violin's density variations using CT scans, which carried no risk to the valuable instruments.

"Wood density is difficult and invasive to measure directly, as an isolated part of the instrument, wrapped in a waterproof container, must be immersed in water to estimate its volume, and its density is calculated by dividing its weight by this volume," Dr Stoel said.

On top of this, this conventional approach to measuring wood density is not able to measure variations within a single plate – which appears to be the difference that may explain the quality of the antique instruments.

Dr Stoel, whose study is published in the online journal Public Library of Science, said the density variations within the wood are caused by the type of wood growth. Early growth in spring is less dense than summer growth, and the antique instruments appear to have a more balanced mix of early and late growth.

"Early growth wood is primarily responsible for water transport and thus is more porous and less dense than late growth wood, which plays more of a structural support role of much more closely packed tracheids [the light and dark grain lines of wood]," he said.

The Case of the Tuneless Viola

Most violists are drawn to the instrument because of its timbre and colour, a quality like purple velvet. But this very characteristic is also the reason for the dearth of viola tunes in the string quartet literature, Violists world-wide complain about the lack of opportunity to shine with a really luscious solo in a string quartet.

Perhaps the 3 most loved viola melodies in the quartet repertoire are those beginning the Smetana and the Bartok 6th, and in the second movement of the Shostakovich's 1st. Both Bartok and Shostakovitch begin the theme with the viola completely alone. Smetana gives the cello long sustained notes and the 2 violins quiet slurred accompanying quavers (eighths) in a low register.

I began looking at the way composers deal with the problem of register and colour when I began arranging short works for my own string quartet, We as a quartet meet at regular intervals to spend pleasurable evenings playing together for the sheer joy of it. But we also perform often at weddings, parties etc. For such functions composers such as Brahms, Bartok, and even sometimes Mozart and Haydn are unsuitable. We have a fair repertoire of light classical and popular works, but needed more. I put together a few and we tried them out one evening. Our viola player, Daniel Glancy, left that night with a “cat that stole the family cream” smile. For I had given him melodies which purred away in his favourite register. “Great arrangements, these,” was his reaction.

We decided, thereafter, Danny and I, that we would put together an album of string quartet, arrangements of public domain works, which would feature the viola. It would be called “Viola Dream”. In “Viola Dream” the viola always has at least one real melody, not just a snippet, as is often the case in most quartets, if the viola is featured at all. In the first flush of enthusiasm we had no difficulty. Danny's first arrangement was “Softly Awakes My Heart” from Samson and Delilah by Saint-Saens. It is the jewel of our collection. What a sybaritic sensation to play! The accompaniment is lucid, with light semiquaver (sixteenth) spiccato, or quaver(eighth) pizzicato. Not only does the viola shine, but the 2 violins are allowed to share the second theme. The whole work is so beautiful that even the cellist is happy.

My first contribution was an arrangement of the slow movement of Beethoven's Pathetique Sonata. Again, no problems. Although the harmonies are warm and thick, each instrument has a solo which soars over the accompaniment - a pleasure to play for all four instruments.

Encouraged by our success we plunged into more arrangements. It was then that we encountered a couple of disasters. I arranged for quartet, a beautiful song named “Tranquillity” by Tom Mitchell, a contemporary Australian composer, (with his copyright permission). In its original form of piano solo, Tranquillity lives up to its name. In my quartet version for “Viola Dream”, the whole was thick and turgid. The viola was lost in a miasma of dense rain forest.

I then delved into the established quartet repertoire to see how the great composers dealt with viola soli. Of course the biggest problem was finding the viols soli! Certainly there are some, but few of the caliber given to the other three instruments. Many viola soli are doubling the cello or violin soli, or are merely parts of a tune, answering or continuing a theme. Beethoven is kind to every instrument especially in his fugal type passages, but seldom in his quartets have what I would call a real complete melody, variation movements being notable exceptions.

Haydn metes out rather shoddy treatment to the viola in terms of melody - a couple of nice bits in Op. 33 No. 2, and in Op. 76 No. 5. the viola is allowed “out” in movements with variations, especially the “Emperor” quartet

Mozart? - a lovely theme in the closing passage of K 590. Of course there are the viola quintets and lots of other chamber works which have superb parts for the viola, but here I am addressing only string quartets.

Brahms gives the viola a lovely counter tune with Violin 1, in the 3rd movement of the C minor. It's always a moot point which instrument has the main tune, the viola usually insisting on precedence. Violin 2 and cello play soft spiccato quavers. In Brahms Op 67, the second movement begins with a really satisfying lengthy theme for the viola. Brahms lets the viola be heard by muting the other three instruments accompanying with a light airy rhythm.

In Schubert's string quartets the viola is seldom allowed to announce anything by herself. Snippets of themes, and longer passages shared with other instruments is usually all she gets.

The Dvorak “American” quartet begins with a fine viola solo. Dvorak lets the viola through by giving a long note and then a pizzicato passage to the cello and pianissimo semiquavers to the violins. Although the viola part of the “American's” second movement is purely accompaniment to the melodies the other instruments share, the accompaniment itself is so beautiful one could almost be tempted to count this as an important solo for the viola, and indeed is often played as such without detracting from the whole.

Dvorak on the whole is generous to the viola in quartets but even more so in works for other chamber music combinations. I feel that it is these latter works that Dvorak has won his reputation for writing well for the viola.

Violists who have not yet encountered the delightful work “Five Greek Dances” by Nikos Skalkottas should immediately try to purchase a copy. In particular the fourth dance “Arkadikos” begins with a lilting melody for viola. the other three instruments take a back seat here with pizzicato chords.

When Shostakovitch writes a viola tune he often allows it to play completely alone, as in No. 1, or with only the cello as in No. 8, third movement.

As my quartet does not explore the regions of twentieth century to any great extent, I shall refrain from commenting any further in this area. Before I continue I should say here that I am not dismissing as inadequate the above great composers! The quartet repertoire is a rich field of superb music, and the composers mentioned have succeeded admirably for this medium. I believe they “neglected” the viola because of its very qualities. It has such a warm mellow tone and blends so well with the other instruments, that to let it be heard and to contribute to the composition as a whole, the composer is compelled to use certain techniques which could impose an unwelcome constraint.

When true full length viola quartet soli are examined it is evident that most composers have used one or several of the following techniques to allow the viola a balance within the four instruments:-

* Give the viola the top voice in a harmonic texture

* Tacet for one, two, or all three other voices

* Pizzcato accompaniment from the violins, or all three voices

* Send the violins into a very high register, well away from the viola voice

* Light spiccato, and/or airy rhythms to accompany the viola tune

Having analyzed these techniques, Danny and I went back to slave over hot staves, and came up with some more works which are a delight to play.

“Celeste Aida” was tailor made for our requirements. Verdi did the creative work for the accompaniment with a light rhythmic figure in the bass, and light spiccato or tremolo for the two upper voices.

Debussy's “Cake-walk” was a piece of cake, with lots of perky accompaniment figures available.

Dvorak lived up to his reputation as a violist's composer. His sensuous song “Song to the Moon”, from the opera “Russalka”, could have been written for the viola in mind.

Handoshkin's “Canzona” from his viola concerto is a definite success as a string quartet. Violists don't often get a chance to play a concerto with an orchestra, which is of course how the Handoshkin is meant to be played. But it lends itself to the string quartet medium, allowing the arranger to distribute juicy soli to the fairly among the quartet members, while still keeping the violas very very happy.

The Viola and Violists

The viola is the middle-range instrument of the violin family. It is sometimes cavalierly referred to as the "big fiddle." Its position in the violin family somewhat parallels the alto voice of the normal SATB (soprano, alto, tenor, bass) arrangement in a choir of voices, the alto being just below the soprano range. In fact, the French word for viola is l'alto. As do other members of the violin family‹violin, cello, contrabass‹the viola has four strings, the lowest of which descends at an interval of a fifth below that of the violin.

The viola is played with a bow and placed on the shoulder, as is the violin, in contrast to the cello, which is placed between the player's legs. In German the viola is the Bratsche, which comes from the Italian braccio, meaning "arm," or to be played on the arm in contrast with being played on the leg. The etymology of the word viola, or viola da braccio, leads some historians to believe that when the violin family emerged as an entity in Italy during the early part of the sixteenth century, the viola may have appeared slightly before the violin, violino being a diminutive form of viola. Violists often like to think that they may indeed have been at the head of the family, at least historically.

Primrose, while establishing his career in America in the early 1940s by playing not only in the cultural centers but also in scores of midwestern communities and even numerous backwoods settlements was often asked the question, "What is the difference between the violin and the viola?" This question was posed by well-meaning people who had never heard the instrument. Primrose recalled that he usually went into a kind of esoteric exposition referring to the difference in sound and range, of course, but also explaining that the viola was on an average about two inches longer than the violin‹wider, thicker, etc. After offering this lengthy explanation innumerable times, he decided to shorten the answer by saying that the viola was a "violin with a college education."

Much has been conjectured and written about the historical and musical reasons for the viola's subservient position before the twentieth century to the more brilliant violin and powerful cello. Cecil Forsyth, in his widely used book, Orchestration (London; Macmillan, 1914), takes an over-the-shoulder glance at the viola's and violists's comparative humble station in musical life:

The viola has perhaps suffered the ups and downs of musical

treatment more than any other stringed-instrument. In the

late sixteenth and early seventeenth century it held much the

same position in the orchestra that the 1st and 2nd violins

occupy today. The violin with its higher pitch and its more

exquisite tone-colour, was continually `knocking at the

door,' and the viola found itself servant where once it had

been master."


Forsyth invites the reader to examine scores representative of the post-Bach, or early classic period, and, here, in a rather hyperbolic review of the situation, he writes:

[Here] we feel that the viola is often merely a source of

anxiety to the composer. We feel that he must have regarded

its existence as something in the nature of a prehistoric

survival. The instrument was there and had to be written

for. Interesting but subordinate contrapuntal middle-parts

were, however, still a thing of the future. The viola,

therefore, either did nothing or something which by the

ingenuity of the composer was made to appear as much like

nothing as possible. If all else failed it could always play

the bass, and, though this often resulted in an unnecessary

and uncomfortable three-octave-bass, it was better than

filling the part with rests."


Concerning the instrument itself, Forsyth makes this observation:

. . . a betwixt-and-between instrument imperfect in

construction, "difficult" and somewhat uneven in

tone-quality, and undeniably clumsy to manage. The viola

more than any other stringed instrument is liable to have

some one or two wolf notes in its compass. In fact very few

violas are wholly free from this defect. The opposite

disease, commonly known as sleep, seems to affect it less.

Perhaps its constitution, inured for centuries to sleepy

passages, has by now become immune to the microbe of sleeping

sickness.


We can wonder to how many inadequately prepared violists Forsyth was subjected during his lifetime when he remarks:

[The top string's] quality has something nasal and piercing;

something suffering, even unpleasant. A prominent melody on

this string becomes unbearable after a short time.


He offers the listener some hope, however, when the viola is played on its two middle strings.

[They] are at once the least characteristic and the most

sympathetic. Lacking the piercing unhappy quality of the

top-string, they combine well with almost anything in the

orchestra . . . . It is on these two strings that the viola

does most of the accompanying and filling-up work, to which a

great part of its existence is devoted.


And finally, the reward for any who would wish to hear a viola:

The bottom-string of the viola is the most characteristic of

all. In fact, to the average concert-goer the viola is only

a viola when it is on its bottom-string. "Somber, austere,

sometimes even forbidding," its mere sound, even in the

simplest phrases, is sufficient to conjure up the image of

Tragedy.


In perhaps the most redeeming and forward-looking observation Forsyth offers from his turn-of-the-century viewpoint, he observes:

The above remarks must not be taken as pointing backwards to

the bad old days when viola players were selected merely

because they were too wicked or senile to play the violin.

Those days are happily gone forever.


Johann Joachim Quantz in his famous Versuch einer Anweisung . . . of 1752 adjured violists to be at least as technically well equipped as second violinists, and from the days of the first-known concert violist, Carl Stamitz (1745-1801), the rise of viola technique toward the vaunted legerdemain of violinists has been steady, albeit slow. Primrose in 1941 identified a long-standing problem with the viola from a listener's perception:

Whenever we hear it said that the viola ranks among the less

expressive instruments, we may be sure that the speaker has

not had the instrument properly revealed to him, and that his

opinion has been formed by listening to inferior playing. A

vicious circle of thought surrounds the viola. One hears it

badly played, one is well aware that it sounds unpleasant,

and one draws the conclusion that such an instrument must be

highly limited. In point of fact, it is not limited. Even a

cheap viola produces a pleasing sound, in hands that know how

to play it.


Another misconception that has haunted the violist and the instrument is the assumed "paucity" (a favorite adjective of concert reviewers, and especially uninformed critics) of the viola repertoir. Primrose in an interview with Burton Paige stated:

In approaching the viola we must rid our minds of several unwarranted preconceptions about it. First of all, it need by no means be confined to the realm of the purely ground bass instruments. We think of the viola chiefly as an orchestral and ensemble instrument, because so much of its notable music has been written for group playing. But it is also possible to find a vast amount of distinguished solo music for the viola. I (Primrose) have frequently presented solo recitals of viola music, in many parts of the world, building as many as eight different programs, none of them including as many transcriptions or arrangements as are to be found on the average violin program.

Violists themselves may be guilty of having contributed to the impression that the viola literature is limited. Certainly, it is smaller than that written for the violin or piano, but violinists and pianists, too, tend to present over and over the standard repertoire in their programming. This is a great disservice to composers who have left many outstanding instrumental pieces that, from lack of being know about, sheer laziness on the part of performers to investigate, or fear by soloists and managers of lowered box office receipts, have been neglected and, consequently, never introduced into the "hit parade" of popular repertoire. The general public tends to like what they know, and thus know what they like as do many soloists‹including violists‹who tend to play repetitively what they hear other soloists play. One consolation for the violist is that since a viola recital in comparison with a violin recital is much rarer, most of what he or she may present in a concert is relatively new to the listener.

To allay any doubts regarding the depth and breadth of the viola repertoire, one need only take to hand the monumental work of Franz Zeyringer, his Literatur für Viola (2nd edition, Hartberg, Austria, Schönwetter, 1985). With thoroughness Professor Zeyringer has attempted to codify all of the repertoire written for the viola, alone and in combination with other instruments, since the sixteenth century. It might astonish the reader to know, for instance, that at least 750 pieces have been written for viola without accompaniment: 1,300 for viola and orchestra, and 3,000 for viola and piano.

Potentially, a violist could select from an expansive repertoire of more than 14,000 pieces, according to Zeyringer's bibliography (at this time approximately one-third of this repertoire is housed in PIVA). Most of these are not transcriptions, but were originally conceived by composers for the instrument. Not all are masterworks, of course, but the same can be said for the repertoire of any instrument. Although the violist does not enjoy ten sonatas for the instrument by Beethoven, as the violinist does, or two concertos by Brahms, as the pianist, the violist need not lament. There is enough worthwhile literature to occupy a lifetime.

It is perhaps curious that some leading composers did not write more works for the viola, especially those who chose the viola as their performing instrument. Bach preferred playing the violas so that he could be "in the middle of the harmony." His second wife, Anna Magdelena wrote, "Whatever troubles there were [in the first few years in the Thomas School], they found no place in our home. They belonged `outside,' and there they remained when Sebastian sat down beside the klavier or took out his viola." Before permanently settling in Vienna, Beethoven played viola in the court orchestra at Bonn. His instrument can be seen today displayed in his native city at the Beethovenhaus. To this subject, Ralph Aldrich has penned:

Eat out thy heart, O Cello proud,

And Violin, go don thy shroud.

Pray Saint Cecilia's mercy mild

Forgive thy up and downbows wild,

For she in sacred restitution,

Bless'd VIOLA'S contribution,

Paying IT the compliment

Of genius' favoured instrument.

Mozart, Schubert, Dvorak, Britten,

All for orchestras have written.

Hear, O Man, and earth rejoice. . .

VIOLA played they all‹BY CHOICE!



Composers in the nineteenth century, beginning with Beethoven, started writing more equal voicing in the string quartet and the string section of the orchestra. Brahms, Dvo_ák, and especially Wagner gave the viola within the ensemble a more prominent, even soloistic role. Technical demands placed on violists by Richard Strauss were no less than for other instrumentalists of the orchestra. The viola was propelled into the twentieth-century, and with that came a new dawning.

The redoubtable Lionel Tertis (1876-1975), born on the same day as the master cellist Pablo Casals, was a feisty Englishman who would not take "no" for an answer when he demanded of composers that they write for his instrument, the viola, in an idiomatic fashion, treating it as a separate entity in the family of stringed instruments. Tertis was the first of three prominent violists who converted from the violin to the viola during the first half of this century, demonstrating that the viola was a viable concertizing instrument. Paul Hindemith (1895-1963), one of the foremost composers of our time, a highly skilled violist and widely known as a soloist and member of a distinguished string quartet, wrote copiously for his instrument. Hindemith bequeathed a lasting written legacy to violists. Completing this formidable triumvirate of twentieth century violists was William Primrose. Yehudi Menuhin puts it succinctly: "If Lionel Tertis was the first protagonist, Primrose was certainly the first star of the viola."

About half a century ago, Primrose noted that the viola and violists were emerging from generations of misunderstanding and benign neglect:

It is gratifying to observe the unmistakable awakening of interest in viola playing. There was a time, not too long ago, when the viola was not only neglected but thoroughly misunderstood. Indeed, the misunderstanding caused the neglect. A clearer comprehension of the uses, technic and scope of the viola has already increased its popularity and this fact also points to a still deeper penetration into one of the richest and most rewarding fields of musical activity.

Since the dawn of this century, violists have sensed an increasing respect coming their way from various corners of the musical and psychoanalytical-musical world. The great conductor Artur Nikisch came to the conclusion that a player's psyche depended upon the instrument he played. Nikisch characterized violists as being calm and good-natured. Henry Ellis Dickson, for thirty years a violinist in the Boston Symphony, wrote in a short volume, Gentlemen, More Dolce Please! (1969), that among the different sections of the orchestra, viola players are the least troublesome. Ralph Greenson, a Los Angeles psychoanalyst and an amateur violinist, has observed among orchestra string players the "Prima Donna on the first violin," the "Bon Vivant on cello," and the "Mortician on bass," while saying of the "Middleman on viola," that "the infighting for advancement that goes on among the more populous violin desks is not for him; that is why he switched over from the violin years ago. The cerebral sort, he lives for chamber music, which offers more challenge than the routine supporting role that composers give his instrument." Finally, the eminent music critic Irving Kolodin left this assessment: "As a fledgling viola player I naturally regard all other violists as studious chaps who don't have the finger facility of the notenfresser who make agile first violinists, but are better read, have heard more music, and are, altogether, men of superior taste."

Leading contemporary composers, such as Walton and Bartók, have discovered a new potential of the instrument, it seems, and more music has been written for the viola during our time than ever before. Running concurrently with this phenomenon is the rising technical standard of playing among younger violists (notable among women) and, most interesting, the appearance more and more of echt violists, those who started on the instrument rather than changing over from violin later. This would have been unheard of a generation ago.

The twentieth century has discovered the viola, and violists appear to have found their own identity. If the ignominy suffered by players who were "too decrepit or immoral to play the violin and were sentenced to scrape away the winter of their discontent as violists" still lingers in the minds of some modern violists, one senses that the memory is fading fast.