Demystifying the Stringed Instrument Bridge

A simple piece of maple wood might look less important than the showier body, strings, scroll or bow of a violin. But the bridge is critical to the sound.

Among the many parts of stringed instruments – violins, cellos, violas and basses – the bridge might appear to be just a simple wedge positioned there to elevate the strings. It is, after all, just a block of oddly shaped wood that a video game playing student might liken to a space invader character.

But as with the structural bridges we drive our cars over, to get from one place to another, the stringed instrument bridge is an essential conduit. In simplest terms, it transfers vibrational energy from the strings to the body of the instrument, where those vibrations and the sounds they create is amplified considerably.

To understand how this works it helps to know some basics of stringed instrument anatomy. While there are variations, the basic makeup of a violin is largely the same as with the cello, viola, bass, and even the less common viola da gamba.

The bridge creates tension on the strings by pressing them upward. Those strings are anchored from the peg box on the neck (the scrolled end of the instrument, furthest away from the player), and at the other end on the tailpiece (nearest the player’s chin). While this tension holds the bridge in place, perpendicular to the strings and instrument body (some call it the belly), the bridge is not fixed by glue or other means to any other piece. It can be knocked loose if mishandled.

Inside the body of the instrument just below the bridge is the sound post, which is a simple peg positioned there to maintain the structure of the instrument and to transfer vibrations from the top of the instrument to the back of it. This further amplifies the sound.

Do you follow the chain of events that make Tchaikovsky’s 5th Symphony? From the friction of bow-on-strings through the bridge to the body top, through the sound peg to the bottom of the body – and out to the farthest reaches of the concert hall.

A professional violinmaker or reputable violin shop should fit the bridge to a violin. In fact, even a student violin ordered online and shipped to the student will often come with the bridge not in place as it would likely be dislodged or break in transfer. The bridge for a new violin will not even be fitted for placement; it will require refining and shaping from the generic crude, thick and unshaped object that is sent by the instrument maker.

Made of maple, the bridge has cut outs that serve important functions. One is that they have feet that sit on the belly of the instrument body. The violin shop that installs it should form the feet to the slight curvature of the body surface. This enables full contact that transfers the string vibrations most efficiently.

The curly cutouts of the bridge may look ornamental but in fact enhance the sound. If the bridge wood were a solid block the sound would be muffled (these cutouts are referred to as “kidneys”).

The top of the bridge, where the strings connect with it, are slightly grooved to hold those strings in place. Over time, the bridge will wear in this area into deep grooves – the effect of all that string vibration – and while a bridge can be replaced, your violinmaker could alternatively add veneers that restore that point of string-bridge contact.

A well-fitted bridge expertly set can make all the difference in the sound of the instrument – perhaps enough that the student will find far greater pleasure in playing the violin than a video game.

Baroque Stringed Instrument Bows Versus “Modern” Bows

While appearing to be less complex than the violin itself, the bow and its evolution since the 17th century illustrate how “the stick” had distinct advantages.

Violins and bows of the Baroque period (early 1600s to the mid 1700s) were physically different from their “modern” counterparts that are largely the standard of today. But when one considers how the instruments were once played – instead of the chin rest and positioning, the tail end of the instrument could be placed against the breastbone or even the player’s hip – the image of a virtuoso in concert is more distinctly about the player his or herself than the instrument.

But indeed Baroque instruments (violin, viola, cello, and stringed bass) were larger, with slightly different contours, dimensions, and with different materials for strings, mostly “cat gut” (which in fact was sheep derived). Peg boxes and fingerboards were different as well.

It was the bows that changed the most as the famous violinmaker Antonio Stradivari and his contemporaries evolved the instrument to its current form and later, in the 19th century, when bowmaker François Tourte changed both the shape and type of wood used for the bow (from snakewood to pernambuco).

In simplest terms, the Baroque bow wood was a flat or convex shape and shorter than the modern bow, which is longer and has a concave shape.

Baroque bows performed best at the era’s dance music, where the first beat of the music was heavier and the second beat light. The shorter Baroque bow was designed for this sequence, with the frog end providing the heavier part before the sound lifted as the bow traveled across the strings. Modern stringed instrument bows are more even, from frog to tip – which puts the responsibility on the player to effectively create the light and heavy tones.

A London-based group, the Orchestra of the Age of Enlightenment, endeavors to use instruments from that time (1600 to 1800) to match the compositions of the same era. They use the Baroque violins, bows and other instruments to perform works by Bach, Haydn, Mozart, Brahms, and Wagner, replicating as best they can the original sounds as intended by those composers.

Where are the Baroque bows today? In an essay, “Traditions of Baroque Violin Playing,” by Richard Gwilt and Irmgard Schaller in 2011, they decry how the old Baroque bows met an ignominious end when they fell out of favor with Tourte’s innovations. “The violins themselves were ‘updated,’ sometimes with drastic measures, showing little regard for historical consideration, and the old Baroque bows were simply (and so sadly) thrown out. You can’t modernize a bow.”

While the originals may be lost to the 18th century version of a landfill, new bows are made in this style out of the original material, snakewood, for violins as well as other stringed instruments. The Baroque era lives!

The History of Rosin and Stringed Instruments

Both rosin and music produced by strings go back thousands of years. When the two came together is uncertain, but it’s easy to understand why.

It’s somewhat challenging to identify when rosin met its first bow to produce music on a stringed instrument. A Google search fails to yield definitive information on where and when that would have happened. It might be similar to where and how early humans discovered how to sauteé vegetables – fire, oil and vegetables have existed for a long time, but just when they were used in combination is elusive.

But the two basic components of this question – when was rosin applied to stringed instruments – can each be traced separately to suggest it happened a long, long time ago.

First, the history’s oldest stringed musical instrument might have also been a hunting weapon. Cave paintings in Trois Frerers, France dating back to 13,000 BC show what appears to be a use of a single-stringed hunting bow to create music.

Over time stringed instruments evolved with the addition of features, most especially additional strings, which led to the lyre, bow harp, harp and lute. It’s clear the human instinct for music drove innovation to the creation of violins, violas, cellos, stringed bass, guitars, harpsichords, pianos, and their many variations (brass and woodwind instruments followed similar paths, albeit without creating sound with friction on strings).

So where did rosin come in? We know that rosin, still produced from tree resin (not sap) as it has always been, also had many uses in ancient history. It is sometimes referred to as colophon and colophony, which refer to an ancient Greek-Turkish city named Colophon, where it was initially produced, which was part of the Ionic period in the 6th to 7th centuries BC. Derived today as it was thousands of years ago, resin turned into rosin originated from pines, cedars, firs, spruce and junipers.

Rosin had many uses then and now. It was used medicinally for healing wounds, as a sealant (think floating conveyances such as boats made from wood, and floating fiber baskets), and as a part of how the Byzantine Empire fought wars. They had an early version of something resembling napalm, called “Greek Fire,” which was a viscous liquid that could be catapulted against an invading army or navy. Rosin was both a thickener in this deadly mix as well as fuel for the fiery havoc it would create.

Given the historical relationship between music and war – to rally the troops, and sometimes to intimidate the enemy – it suggests that instruments of ancient times easily accepted the use of rosin to provide bow friction to stringed instruments.

Today’s players of the violin and all other fine stringed instruments could not function without rosin. Its application to the bow is part of early musical instruction for children as well as the concertmaster of every orchestra in the world. While the word has many applications and many actual chemical compositions, the serious stringed instrument player would do well to work with their instructor and violin makers to identify which is right for him or her.

The Famous – or Infamous – Thefts of Stradivarius Violins

Despite the difficulty thieves might find reselling famous works of the master luthier, history shows that Stradivariuses hold enduring attraction to thieves.

The story of the stolen Stradivarius violin that is probably most familiar to Americans is that of the Totenberg-Ames Stradivari (circa 1734). This is because the first part of that name, Totenberg, is the surname of a longtime National Public Radio reporter, Nina Totenberg.

The violin was missing for 35 years but is today on loan to a young virtuoso named Nathan Meltzer. It was returned in 2015 to Ms. Totenberg and her two sisters, three years after the death of her father, Roman Totenberg. The elder Totenberg was a Polish-born prodigy, performer and teacher, who purchased his Stradivarius in 1943 for $15,000 (it is now valued at between $5 million and $10 million). The ex-wife of the likely thief found the instrument after his death and it was identified when she went to a reputable violin shop to have it appraised.

The story, which Ms. Totenberg reported to her national audience, raises awareness of the many thefts that have occurred with these highly prized Italian violins. (Stradivari primarily made violins, but also a smaller number of cellos and violas).

One such recent theft, in which the instrument went missing for only a week, was of the Lipinski Stradivarius (circa 1715), taken in an armed robbery from concertmaster Frank Almond after a performance in 2014 with the Milwaukee Symphony Orchestra. The thief seemed to lack a plan for how to resell it, which is difficult to do with any rare instrument or piece of art because a buyer who would be willing to pay millions for it would in all likelihood also know the transaction and provenance are illegitimate.

Another stolen Stradivarius, which has yet to be recovered, was from the 91-year-old Erica Morini while she lay dying in a hospital. Taken from her New York apartment in 1995, the Davidoff-Morini (circa 1727) was purchased for her (price: $10,000) by her father in 1924.

Other Stradivari that have been stolen at some point include:

• Oistrakh (circa 1671), once owned by Queen Elisabeth of Belgium, it was stolen in 1996 and returned in 1997 to the Glinka Museum in Moscow
• Andrew Bernardi (current owner, circa 1696), it was taken from Min-Jin Kym in London in 2010 and recovered in 2013
• King Maximilian; Unico (circa 1790), stolen in 1999 and not recovered
• Karpilowsky (circa 1712), stolen from Harry Solloway in 1953 and not recovered
• Gibson; ex-Huberman (circa 1713), stolen, recovered and stolen a second time from Bronislaw Huberman in 1936 and recovered in 1985
• Le Maurien (circa 1714), stolen in 2002 and not recovered
• Colossus (circa 1716), stolen in Rome in 1998 and not recovered
• Kochanski (circa 1717), stolen in 1987 and recovered in 1991
• Sinsheimer; Iselin (circa 1721), stolen in 2008 and recovered in 2009
• Duke of Alcantara, aka the UCLA Strad (circa 1732), either stolen or left on the roof of a car in 1967 (seriously?), it was recovered in 1995
• Herkules/King David (circa 1734), stolen in 1908 and recovered in 1925
• Lamereaux (circa 1735), missing or stolen in 1962 and not recovered
• General Kyd (circa 1684), stolen in 2004 and recovered
• Gore Booth (circa 1710), stolen by the Nazis along with the Gustav Klimt “Portrait of Adele Bloch-Bauer I, the subject of the 2015 biographical movie “Woman in Gold;” it was recovered from German authorities in 1956

Other mishaps to Stradivarius violins include car accidents, car crashes and the bombing of Dresden in 1945. Art may endure, but the fine instruments of art themselves do not always survive. Which among the unrecovered instruments remain in someone’s attic, waiting to be found?

Fine Musical Instrument Appraisal: Factors to Consider

The search for identity and value in fine stringed and other instruments is its own treasure hunt. Several factors matter – including how it sounds.

“Antiques Roadshow” is one of the most-watched programs on the PBS television network, seen by up to 8 million viewers per week. But while appraisers on the show provide their services for free – because it’s great exposure for them and their businesses – it does a bit of disservice to the appraisal trade, including appraisals of fine stringed instruments.

How so? It makes it look a bit too easy. And what doesn’t get much play on the program is the full process appraisers undergo in evaluating items of rare value, and the written certifications they provide to owners of fine violins, cellos, violas and basses (as well as antique trumpets, harps and even an over-the-shoulder saxhorn from the mid-19th century once seen on Antiques Roadshow).

One such episode of the show (Season 20, Episode 25) identified a violin attributed to early 19th century Italian luthier Johannes B. Ceruti. The appraiser provided excellent topline observation of the instrument, including previous appraisal documents (one from the 1940s which misidentified it as a Guarneri), but the show didn’t have time to show the meticulous and detailed process that a full fine stringed instrument appraisal would entail. That would include:

• Design, including details in the scroll, the f-holes, and the back
• Model
• Wood characteristics, such as if the fingerboard is solid ebony or simply black-varnished wood
• Varnish texture (oil based, spirit based – or the lower-quality nitrocellulose lacquer or synthetic resin?)
• Documents of provenance, where available
• Sound and playing characteristics (surprisingly of lesser importance in assessing value)

Something that almost never factors into an appraisal is a signature of a famous violinmaker. Thousands exist that say “Stradivari” or other famous names of luthiers who almost certainly did not make that particular instrument. It’s not that they are forgeries. It’s that lesser contemporaries were paying a homage, of sort, by saying the instrument was made “in the style of” the name they use.

So what does an appraisal amount to, other than knowing the details of an instrument and its monetary value? To begin with, third party documentation serves a legal purpose. It can be used with insurance companies, in courts of law (such as in a legal dispute of ownership, or in the division of property in marriage dissolution), or when the owner decides to sell the instrument or to get a tax write-off when donating it to a qualified 501c3 charitable organization.

As of now, there is no national or state licensing of fine instrument appraisers. Only the track record of an appraiser and accreditations from major appraisal accrediting organizations (ASA, AAA, ISA) provide a means of identifying legitimate appraisers. Importantly, the appraisal is priced according to the time and expertise of the appraiser, not the value of the instrument. This ensures an objective appraisal of value.

So while real life is rarely as simple (and fast) as portrayed on reality TV (Antiques Roadshow is in fact one of the oldest reality TV shows), the outcomes can be really important – to buyers, sellers and players alike.

Demystifying Harmonics of Stringed Instruments

Instruments like violins and cellos produce harmonic tone vibrations, involuntarily or by intent, from strings other than the string being played.

Students of stringed instruments who also have an affinity for physics are likely delighted with the subject of harmonics. They not only understand how vibrations are at the core of producing sounds, but that all things are related – including the strings of a violin, cello, bass, harp or guitar that are not directly involved in the principle note being played in any particular instance.

Indeed, when the E-string is being played, the G-, D- and A- strings vibrate as well, producing what are known as overtones. The effect on human ears is that a warmer, well-rounded sound is perceived. An overtone is a full octave higher than the played note. Interestingly, the listener doesn’t explicitly perceive the overtones.

There two types of harmonics, with decidedly different effects and requirements of the player:

1. Naturally-produced (“open string”) harmonics. This is the harmonic that just happens, due to the physics of vibrations of the played (“fundamental”) string, causing a sympathetic vibration among the other strings. One need not be a physics major nor even a music theoretician to create or understand it. Natural harmonics happen…naturally.

2. Artificial (intentional or “string”) harmonics. This requires training, practice and skill on the part of the musician – all useful, as some musical scores specifically have harmonics written in. It involves the soft placement of a second finger on a second string as the violin bow plays the primary string.

The harmonic created by the artificial method is done so by (lightly placing the third or fourth finger on the string where the harmonic node would be found (nodes are the ½, ¼, or 1/8th place on the string, where the natural overtone is otherwise produced). By placing the finger at these points, the violinist interrupts all the other overtones except this one.

This is science and math applied to music. But there remains a fine art and human physicality in producing an artificial harmonic as well: just the right amount of pressure – not too little and not too much – has to be applied.

The sheet music calling for string harmonics is identifiable by tiny diamonds shapes over a note or notes (in some cases a circle above the note, along with the finger number, is the notation). In most cases, the composer is driving for a bell-like quality to the tone, which can create a better blend of tonality with flutes and piccolos (instruments that also have a bell-like sound). Because violins and violas have a shorter neck, the players of these instruments have to think with a bit more mathematical precision to produce the harmonic. Cellists and bassists have a bit more freedom because of the longer necks of those instruments.

What is the most likely instance of a stringed instrument harmonic? A sound that is two octaves and a major third above the fundamental tone – tones that are otherwise inaccessible on the instrument. Harmonics are more easily achieved on fine stringed instruments, which are generally easier to play than poorly crafted ones.

It involves a stretch of the effects of vibrational frequencies that any physics student could love.

The Violinmaking School of Venice

Venice stood apart from the other Italian city-states, a blend of culture and art from a bigger world beyond southern Europe. Violins from there reflect this.

When music lovers describe the violinmaking school of Venice, they’re not referring to an educational system per sé, with buildings and faculty and matriculated students and an alumni association. Unlike in Cremona, there is no official institution that carries on the traditions of local luthiers, despite the fact it is historically a very musical city.

Instead, the Venice “school” is an approach to making fine stringed instruments – violins, cellos, violas and the like – that harkens back to the 16th century. Violinmaking all largely began in Italy, although historians like to point out that so much of what is “Italy” today were city-states at the time. The cultures, economies, and governance varied from Milan to Cremona, Brescia, Padua, Pisa, Rome and Naples, among many others. Dialects varied from one city to the next and were sometimes hard to decipher between them.

But Venice itself stood apart. The city was never a part of the Holy Roman Empire: In fact, Pope Julius II excommunicated the entire city in 1606-1607, part of a larger political conflict, but also consistent with the cosmopolitan nature of Venice, the city and its ports being a crossroads of commerce with the (non-Christian) Near and Far East. Today, it is possible to find multiple examples of how this very Italian city with plenty of Catholic churches and religious art – which should make any pope happy – nonetheless exhibit Islamic influence, remnants of the close and friendly mixing of Venetians, Ottomans, Persians, Arabs, Jews and Mamelukes in the lagoon city.

The polyglot nature of Venice, and its political independence from the Church of Rome, very clearly had an effect on music and violinmaking there. During the Baroque period, it birthed composers Girolamo Dalla Casa, Ippolito Ciera, Giovanni Picchi, and the very popular Antonio Vivaldi. The style of music was expansive, splendorous, sometimes described as “colossal,” with compositions using multiple choruses and instrumental groups.

Violins crafted by a Venice violin maker were not for the courts of royalty, as was the case with those from Cremona. This mercantile city, where one writer once remarked that an instrument or voice was making music at all times in every home, was less concerned with the aristocracy despite its legendary wealth. The first great Venetian luthiers, Martinus Kaiser and his son-in-law Matteo Goffriller, made violins to order and according to price. Rich clients received instruments of the highest quality made of expensive woods and varnish. For instrumentalists with fewer funds, lower quality materials were used.

Later Venice school violin makers, Domenico Montagnana and Francesco Gobetti, were originally shoe makers, a trade that translated well to musical instrument craftmanship. Venetian violins from them and others were known for superbly rich bass tones and a full, projecting sound. These are concert hall stringed instruments, capable of being heard in row 50 – not just the small rows of chairs set up in a baron’s palace.

How have these instruments, and the nature of Venice violin making, stood the test of time? Internationally acclaimed cellist Yo Yo Ma considers his Montagnana cello his primary instrument (appraised value is $2.5 million). That rich Venetian violin or cello sound continues to play well in the gilded, rococo style La Fenice opera house, rebuilt in 2004 after a 1996 fire. This city, and its musical instruments, is the collective result of people who always loved music that was unrestricted by papal decrees, social class and cultural homogeneity.