‘Every tone has a living soul’ – Shinichi Suzuki

Suzuki’s study of violin tone was his lifetime’s work. Here violinist and teacher Helen Brunner shares personal reminiscences of working with him

Shinichi Suzuki teaching in the USA in 1976

SUZUKI USA IMAGE ARTHUR MONTZKA

From the first moment I heard Shinichi Suzuki’s violin students play, I was absolutely stunned. It was in New York in 1967. Advanced concerto repertoire was being played by young children whose tone and energy were so powerful that I was blown away. Since then, my life’s mission has been to understand the philosophy behind Suzuki’s approach to tone and to learn how to teach that sound myself.

It starts with ‘tonalisation’, the word used by Suzuki for his violin tone exercises. Vocalisation exercises were familiar to him, as his wife was a singer, but he felt that the study of tone was an aspect missing from violin pedagogy. So began his search to find the heart of every note and the best natural tone in every violin. He understood that beautiful tone is determined by beautiful posture, so we have to start by working on our primary instrument: ourselves. It depends on us.

Suzuki called his music school the Talent Education Institute – it was an institution of musical learning through the development of our own talent and potential. ‘Beautiful heart, beautiful tone,’ he would say. Knowing how to develop your own life force was the essence of his teaching. When I was a trainee teacher of the Suzuki Method, I witnessed people’s sound changing, becoming miraculously beautiful.

Suzuki’s teaching methods were based on what he called the Law of Ability: Ability = Knowledge + 10,000 x practice. I was given my first tonalisation exercise when I went to study with him in Matsumoto, Japan, in 1979. It was day one, and I was instructed to hold my bow vertically in the air, without my violin, my thumb angled correctly and the tip of my little finger on the top of the bow stick. I then moved that elbow and hand back and forth across my body. ‘Please practise this 10,000 times, with steady tip,’ he said, with a smile. The lesson lasted about four and a half minutes.

Over the next few days, working diligently at Suzuki’s legendary 10,000-times training, with my bow in the air, I could feel my thumb muscles engaging and strengthening, and I was also aware of the power required from my little finger. Not wanting to strain anything, I took my time – spending 3 hours and 40 minutes on it over three days.

At my second lesson, after my demonstration, Suzuki mentioned that he could still see a little unnecessary movement at the tip of the bow. ‘Another 10,000 times, please,’ he said, laughing.

On continuing this practice, the whole of my right arm and deltoid muscles were activated. Suzuki’s approach was closely aligned to the Alexander technique, with which I was familiar, so I kept breathing and releasing any resistance that arose in my body. There was a new feeling of power in my bow hold.

The strength was coming from the whole of my back, and my head and neck became freer. I was standing up straighter.

At the third and final lesson, Suzuki wanted me to speed up the movement: ‘I can’t hear the swish of the bow through the air.’ So, it was another 10,000 times! However, with wings to fly and my violin sound having been transformed, it felt as if I had a new instrument as well as a new bow. There was power to play much nearer the bridge, with a stronger, straighter bow stroke.

There was more ring and more resonance in my tone. I could feel the ‘elastic’ power of the bow expressing a deeper sound.

It was a homecoming experience for me.

How is it possible that in only a few minutes of tuition this genius had taught me more about the art of bowing than I had learnt in several years of conservatoire training? This transformation of tone was possible simply because Suzuki knew it would be. All his trainee teachers themselves studied within this nurturing, inclusive ‘every child can’ culture, employing what he called the ‘mother-tongue’ method. There are no failures: if you can speak your mother tongue, it follows that you have the ability to play the violin very, very well.

The love and respect that Suzuki had for every trainee teacher was palpable. When you came to train with him you knew you were no exception. There was never any doubt in his mind about your potential. This kind of work was inspirational; it was nurtured by deep understanding, as he demonstrated in his influential book Nurtured by Love (1969).

Brunner and Suzuki in 1983

FIGURE 1 Circle training diagram, from private teacher handout ‘Suzuki Method Report’, 1977. The weight of the elbow helps the bow to sink deeply into the string. The action is completed by the hand forming a circle in the air

FIGURE 2 Exercise from Suzuki Violin School vol.1 to prepare for Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star Variations. The sound should continue to ring like a temple bell after the bow has stopped

FIGURE 4 Pizzicato exercise, from private teacher handout ‘Vital Points’, 1971. Match the pure sound of pizzicato with the bow

FIGURE 5 String-crossing diagram, from private teacher handout ‘Vital Points’, 1976. For big tone, feel the bow perpendicular to the string

Suzuki had a violin making background: his father was the leading manufacturer of violins in Asia and taught his son everythinghe knew. Well into his eighties, Shinichi had incredible agility in setting up a violin to achieve more resonance. He also came from a long succession of fine violin pedagogues: his was a direct teaching line from Corelli to Viotti through to Joachim, who taught Karl Klingler, Suzuki’s teacher for eight years in Berlin. What a pedigree!

Finding the centre of gravity in our own body was as important to Suzuki as breathing and playing. He was obsessed with the force of gravity, and wanted to know what happens to the sound of an instrument as you release more weight into the string. (Suzuki delighted in telling me that the best violin teacher in the world was from England: Isaac Newton, no less.) He explained it thus: put an apple on a shelf, high above your head. The hand leads, obviously. Enabled by gravity, bring the apple down again by allowing the big muscles in the back and shoulder to let go. The hand lifts the apple up, the elbow brings it down. This is the principle of string-crossing and will create good tone. The hand leads the bow over to the G string, the whole arm releases on the way back to the E. The same idea applies to down bows and up bows: when the middle of the bow is balanced on the string, the down-bow stroke occurs by letting gravity lead with the elbow. For an up bow, let the hand lead with the whole arm. This was how Suzuki began tonalisation training with his pupils – he called it ‘circle training’, the fundamental guideline to achieving good tone. The diagram in Figure 1 is a depiction of circle training, whereby the weight of the elbow allows the bow to sink deeply into the string. The action is completed by the hand forming a circle in the air. For both up and down bow, the first action is to keep the elbow free and relaxed.Whatever concerto you were working on, every individual lesson began with tonalisation, and everything was always memorised.

From the start, the ringing notes, even in the Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star Variations (the first and essential piece of the Suzuki repertoire), were extremely important (Figure 2).Suzuki was passionate about listening for the after tone – the sound that continues to ring like a temple bell after the bow has stopped. ‘I can see good tone,’ he often said. The vibrations of beautiful tone are indeed visible. When the bow hairs catch the string, you can see it vibrating. The bridge and soundpost also vibrate with the back of the violin, and the vibrations continue into the scroll until the whole instrument is alive, becoming a precious, vibrating, resonating box.And without tension, the whole human body also vibrates, reflecting the player’s life force beyond the realms of music.

etc.

FIGURE 3 Tonalisation exercise, Suzuki Violin School vol.3. The left-hand fingers should find the exact point on the string when playing stopped notes E, A, D or G – to make the whole violin ring sympathetically

etc.

London’s Royal Albert Hall hosted a British Suzuki Gala in 2016, featuring 1,300 performers

FIGURE 6 Suzuki’s square bridge diagram. In string-crossing, approach the E string from the right-hand side, and the G from the left –a miracle fix for an open, resonant tone

GALA IMAGE BEN HISKETT. SUZUKI IMAGE ARTHUR MONTZKA

FIGURE 7 Diagram depicting Casals’s tonalisation, from private teacher handout ‘Vital Points’, 1976. Casals maintained a constant bow speed, allowing arm weight to shape the notes

FIGURE 8 The Kreisler highway, American Suzuki Journal vol.43 no.3 (2015). Playing a millimetre nearer the bridge (as indicated by the dashed line) makes a big difference to the sound

The tonalisation exercise shown in Figure 3 was always a favourite. The fingers of the left hand have to find the exact point on the string when playing the stopped primary resonating notes E, A, D or G, in order to make the whole violin ring. This resonant spot is only the size of a pencil point. You are either in tune or not in tune. With perfect intonation, the sympathetic vibration catches the sound of the open string and new harmony is created. The listener effectively hears sublime doublestopping. Ultimately, every single note on the violin can pick up some resonance, and if you listen carefully enough you will even hear the resonance from the strings behind the bridge.

Watch the string appear to split in two when you play it open. The sympathetic string also vibrates when the octave is played. Listen to it ring. Take the humble open string pizzicato – train your ears to listen to the echo after the pluck. ‘Pizzicato does not lie,’ Suzuki said. Create the same tone colour with the bowed note (Figure 4).

It was a first for me after decades of conventional study to realise how to apply weight evenly from the E to the G string (Figure 5). Suzuki had us string-crossing, rolling the bow into each string rapidly but silently – literally making no sound, with a controlled bow arm. He drew a square bridge to help us with visualisation (Figure 6). From Suzuki Violin School vol.1, we approach the E string from the right-hand side, and the G from the left. Working on this idea is like a miracle fix for an open, resonant tone. It makes a measurable difference.

Suzuki was overwhelmed by the beauty of Pablo Casals’s sound when the great cellist played solo Bach on a visit to his Talent Education Institute. It was spellbinding. The wave of emotion affected everyone and brought tears to Suzuki’s eyes. Casals played with such an expressive tone, balancing the bow on the string perfectly, maintaining constant bow speed, and allowing the arm weight to shape the notes. Suzuki called this ‘Casals’s tonalisation’ (Figure 7).

Another of Suzuki’s heroes was Fritz Kreisler, who played with such ease and beauty with the bow near the bridge.His tone was always powerful but expressive and gloriously nuanced. Suzuki encouraged his students to play with the bow on the same contact point as Kreisler’s, near the bridge: he called it the ‘Kreisler highway’ (Figure 8). With skilled bow control, playing a millimetre nearer the bridge makes a big difference to the sound.Suzuki’s lifetime’s work has made an enormous impact on music education all over the globe. Currently, 74 countries have growing Suzuki programmes; Suzuki’s teacher training has expanded to encompass, to date, 13 instruments; and, ultimately, millions of lives have been changed by his method. It is more popular than ever, even in the pandemic,and parents everywhere are getting the message about their children’s potential. Suzuki was nominated for the Nobel Peace Prize in 1993: his ultimate vision was indeed peace and happiness for all children of the world, as he touched their hearts through quality of sound. ‘Where love is deep, much can be accomplished.’