Exploring the Violin’s Versatility

Historians believe the first violin dates to sometime in the early 16th Century. Gaudenzio Ferrari’s paintings show a three-string variant as early as the 1530s. As the Renaissance turned Baroque, Classical, then Romantic, the violin became a prominent figure in Western music. Perhaps too preeminent in orchestral settings. When asked to match instruments to a style of music, most people will invariably pair the violin with “classical.” From a historical perspective, this association would seem sensible. But the very idea that the instrument should be primarily associated with any single genre is flawed. Such a mindset does a disservice to both those who express themselves through its strings as the instrument itself. Are we supposed to ignore the melding of influences by violinists ranging from Henry Flynt to Jean-Luc Ponty to Laurie Anderson to Andrew Bird? What about the performers who look to the country, bluegrass, or folk traditions like Vassar Clements or Alison Krauss? In reality, the violin is much more diverse in its applications than is often credited. This piece examines four recent albums that have continued to push the instrument’s boundaries: Mark Feldman’s Sounding Point (Intakt, 2021),  The Jessica Pavone String Ensemble’s Lost and Found (Astral Spirits, 2020), Tomoko Omura’s Branches Vol. 1 (Outside in Music, 2020), and Big Lux’s Major (Self-release, 2020). 

Those paying close attention to the creative music scene should find Mark Feldman’s name familiar. For the past almost thirty years, he has recorded extensively with John Zorn, appearing on some of Tzadik’s most memorable releases including Bar Kokhba (1996), The Circle Maker (1998), and the underrated Filmworks XII: Three Documentaries (2002). He was also one half of the excellent Masada Recital (Tzadik, 2004) with his wife, talented pianist Sylvie Courvoisier. And he has several of his own releases as a leader, including on an unaccompanied instrument. While his tone and phrasing remain recognizable, Sounding Point is different from all of these. 

The violin isn’t necessarily the easiest instrument to present solo. Compared to the piano, where an artist can readily provide both part and counterpart, limitations require a solo violinist to take extra care to keep the music interesting and vibrant. But on Sounding Point, Feldman seems to approach these restrictions as opportunities. The title track has a haunting vibrato melody quietly rising above a gentle wave of sound. At times the backing is oddly reminiscent of a somber accordion and the lead of an exotic panflute from another world. If approaching blind, one would be unlikely to guess the track is provided by a singular violinist. Part of this is due to Feldman’s use of overdubs. This effect is particularly evident on “Peace Warriors,” a composition penned by sometime violinist Ornette Coleman, which seemingly tears apart the original to view it from different perspectives.

At first glance, The Jessica Pavone String Ensemble seems an unusual choice for this piece. Its leader does not play the violin but rather the viola, a close relative and member of the same family. But with half of the group consisting of violins, it seems appropriate. Additionally, a string quartet – albeit here removing a cellist in favor of a second violist- is almost stereotypical chamber instrumentation. But the String Ensemble is unlike any stereotypical quartet. Lost and Found, like its predecessor, Brick and Mortar (Birdwatcher, 2019) is equal parts sound exploration and science experiment. As to the latter, an emphasis is placed on Cymatics; research into the effects of sonic vibration on human physiology and emotional health.

Sonically, the music sits somewhere between avant-garde jazz – Pavone herself has performed with Mary Halvorson and Anthony Braxton – and minimalism. Each of the pieces is a series of contrasts – as indicated by titles such as “Lost and Found”- in which time is malleable and texture of the utmost importance. Sustained tones play a central role. So does the focus on collective, rather than individualistic, improvisation. This latter point serves particularly well as it is often difficult to distinguish instruments at any given moment. Throughout, movement is seemingly created by deviation up or down – however slight – from the sustained tone. For instance, on “Nice and Easy,” harmonious sounds at times turn sinister with only a slight change in their direction. “Pros and Cons” adopts a siren-like effect as the group spiral around predetermined – yet unplayed – tones.

More conservative in her approach, Tomoko Omura’s music stands in stark comparison to Feldman’s or Pavone’s. But the music is no less beautiful or compelling. On Branches, Vol. 1, she is less intent to push the outer boundaries of sound, and, instead, using what came before to present a voice truer to herself. The culture of her native Japan plays a major role on the album through its restructuring of popular songs and folklore into original compositions. Even the old standard “Moonlight in Vermont” shows surprising influences from the bandleader’s homeland as it is shown in an oddly haiku-like structure.

But one would be mistaken to ignore the influence of musical ideas from America, where Omura has lived for the past decade. Take, for instance, “The Revenge of the Rabbit.” Although the sole electric instrument is Jeff Miles’ guitar, at times the song’s intense pacing and flurry of notes send off hues of 1970s fusion groups ala the Mahavishnu Orchestra. Even as “Konomichi” tells the story of a man traveling from the North to South in Japan, it sounds indebted to jazz violinists who paved the way for Omura, including Regina Carter. At various points across the album, the Blues appears as well.  Branches, Vol. 1 is a delightful reminder that no one entirely reflects their upbringing or their current cultural mores but some fascinating combination of the two. 

Kevin Lowther, who goes by the stage name  “Big Lux,” is hardly the first to view the violin within a hip hop context, as groups like Black Violin have mined this area well. But what sets Big Lux apart is that he is not merely providing a backing track for another MC or simply trying to find a way to merge sampled beats with his instrument of choice. On Major, he treats his rapping and string playing as inherently linked. The refusal to divide these two facets of his art further enriches both. It allows him to emphasize the power of his socially conscious lyrics, whether emphasizing the brutality of his time in Iraq with the U.S. Army on “Chasing Bombs,” or asking people to calm down and enjoy their lives on “Decades.”

Throughout, Big Lux’s violin performance is virtuosic and furthers the rest of the songs’ narrative and feel; his violin is a natural part of his music, not some addition tacked onto it. Particularly admirable is his desire to remove preconceived barriers between genres. This is most apparent on “Ghetto Grass,” where a bluegrass jam and his fiddling meets rap. 

Joshua Bell once noted that “When you play a violin piece, you are telling a story.” As each individual is unique, their stories will be as well. Because of this one, should similarly approach their narratives differently instead of forcing them to fit some neatly confined category like “classical.” Regardless of the shape of the artists’ experiments –  testing the limits of solo performance, exploring Cymatics, cultural studies, or socially conscious genreless music – each has a unique identity. It is folly to treat them otherwise.  

Mark Feldman’s Sounding Point, The Jessica Pavone String Ensemble’s Lost and Found, and Tomoko Omura’s Branches Vol. 1 are available on Bandcamp. Big Lux’s Major is available in our Amazon affiliate store.