BOOKS

The Roaring Brook Fiddler: Creative Life on the Wings of an Empath Julie Lyonn Lieberman

330PP ISBN 9781098335496 BOOKBABY $21.95

US violinist and educator Julie Lyonn Lieberman is a force of nature, exemplified by this latest publication. Not a book of music, this time, but a memoir of her creative life with its twists and turns, highs and lows, and candid self-awareness. She writes with her heart on her sleeve, and the resulting publication is a fulfilment of a promise to her mother as she lay dying. There is something compelling about being allowed into Lieberman’s life and mind in this openly emotional and exploratory life story. For a UK reader it can be quite an uncomfortable read at times, and to be fair probably couldn’t have been written by anyone on this side of the pond as, even in this more touchy-feely age, we are more buttoned-up and generally more private about our responses than our American cousins. That is not a criticism but an observation that we react differently to internal turmoil and analysis.

Heart-on-sleeve writing from Julie Lyonn Lieberman

But it isn’t quite as easy to typecast the book in this way, and Lieberman herself has had to conquer anxiety and fear of disclosure to convey her inner world in a lasting document.

She has combined her own story with an unfinished memoir written by her mother to become a seamless whole.

It is a fascinating tale of life and its obstacles, and also of the apparently unexplainable. And this is where the ‘empath’ comes in.

Time and time again, there appear to be links to a spiritual world which are described as ‘whiskers’, and these receptors connect with people who have ‘crossed over’. They can also be prescient of disaster and it is the climax of the book with a true story told about the dreadful school massacre at Sandy Hook, and the reaction of the author and her dog that leaves her ‘saturated with pain and empathy’.

The book recounts a series of experiences, family relationships and challenges. It doesn’t flinch. And it is also a compelling reflection of a musician’s other life that the audience doesn’t know about – how, despite internal challenges, the show needs to go on not only to put food on the table, but also to allow a career and artistic life to progress.

ANNE INGLIS

Romantic Violin Performing Practices: A Handbook David Milsom

335PP ISBN 9781783275274 BOYDELL PRESS £65

In this handbook, David Milsom examines the key concepts to be assimilated, as well as the various obstacles to be overcome, in ‘rehabilitating’ stylish performances of the violin repertoire from c.1840 to c.1920. Comprising twelve chapters arranged in five themed parts, it initially re-assesses the perceived gulf that exists between scholarship and the performance of ‘Romantic’ music, and encourages the establishment of some positive footing for improved collaboration. Part Two relates expressive aspects of 19th-century violin performance to ‘vocality’ – singing technique and style and speech or declamation.

Arguably a candidate for earlier inclusion, the third part introduces the most relevant research resources and offers ‘experiential perspectives’ on matters of organology, pedagogy and the effectiveness and limitations of studying historical treatises and annotated scores. Despite their various technological and other limitations, early recordings are favoured over words for making qualitative assessments of expressive devices such as vibrato, rubato and tempo flexibility, courtesy of recent computer software developments.

Milsom’s subsequent examination of the practical application of Romantic performance ideals effectively delineates his own research career to date. It includes an informative case study of Joseph Joachim’s legacy, performing philosophy and traits, fleshed out with references to Joachim’s Classical German ‘school’ pupils Karl Klingler and Marie Soldat-Roeger. Milsom also endorses the valuable insights achievable from re-enacting historical interpretations on record and evaluates three examples of his own persuasive reconstructive emulations

of Joachim’s style. The final part comprises practical advice and technical and stylistic exercises to assist violinists in fulfilling their ‘vital responsibilities’ of ‘resourced experimentation’ and assimilation of the concepts discussed.

One potential weakness of the volume is that ‘selected’ sources for examination have been limited to those available in English or English translation; another is the second chapter’s inconclusive and arguably superfluous investigation into the notion of a 20th-century ‘modernist revolution’ in performing practices and aesthetic thought. Further, some readers may dislike Milsom’s somewhat repetitive, idiosyncratic and self-centred ‘experiential’ approach and his dour, over-defensive writing style, which also incorporates substantial direct quotation when paraphrasing would have been more laconic and offered greater coherence. Several typographical errors remain, including some notorious spelling aberrations, and source dating is occasionally inaccurate. Regrettably, too, the text on the book’s verso pages is printed such that line endings often dribble into the binding.

Negatives aside, Milsom’s handbook has been painstakingly researched. His text is supported with pertinent illustrations and music examples and its scope is expanded by a wealth of further materials accessible on a dedicated website, including his own recordings, links and references to selected historical recordings and extensive appendices. There is also a substantial and well-organised bibliography, a selective discography and a helpful index. Although, as Milsom admits, any performance, however ‘historical’ its intent, ‘is only ever an imaginative act of the present’, his handbook contributes significantly to our understanding of stylistic trends in ‘Romantic’ violin performance. It represents a genuine attempt to encourage the re-creation of some of the fundamental interpretative principles of the period and ‘espouse …a credo for future performance’. It just lacks that final polish.

ROBIN STOWELL

Violin Bridges Gerard KilBride

220PP [NO ISBN] BLACK MOUNTAINS PRESS £50

Bridges are funny things: there is room for originality and individuality, but only up to a point. That’s what makes it so interesting to see the bridges that other makers and restorers have carved. Every violin shop has a drawer of bridges pulled from old violins. They are saved as reference and as mementos of old shops and competitors, but most collections accumulate by chance and are often limited to bridges from nearby colleagues with only a few distant ones represented.

The best bridge drawer I know of is the virtual one living since 2004 at violinbridges.co.uk, where visitors can see examples of more than a thousand bridges from shops around the world, displayed in clear, oversized photos, and accompanied by measurements of their critical dimensions. Violin maker Gerard KilBride has spent the past two decades actively soliciting contributions from across the globe and has gathered a fine and unmatched collection. I visit the site frequently, just to see the bridges other makers have carved, and often recommend it to new workers to see examples of what they should be doing. But I have always feared this valuable resource might eventually disappear from the ever-ephemeral web (there’s no sign of that happening, I should add). I feel much more at ease now that the best of KilBride’s collection is available in book form.

A bridge from the shop of William Moennig & Son in Philadelphia, US

The collection spans around 200 years and includes items from the most famous shops of the past.

There’s an early Betts bridge, six from Withers, three from the Hill shop, a couple from the Chanot shops, and others of note for anyone looking for examples from the old masters. There is a broad selection of modern makers as well, and there are a few quirky examples, including one old bridge apparently pressed from an aluminium sheet.

KilBride’s 215-page book is a class act – hard cover, sewn binding, thick pages with semi-gloss printing – and the experience of reading it is every bit as satisfying as the original on-screen experience, missing only the measurements. Recent decades have brought many excellent violin photo books to our libraries, but none like this unique project has given us, and I would have doubted that there would ever be another like it – except that the author notes in his introduction that he’s already started work on Book Two.

MICHAEL DARNTON