Thoughts on the Viola da Gamba

by Caroyln Surrick

In January of 1996, The National Gallery brought over an exhibit from the Hague of selected works by Johannes Vermeer, a 17th century Dutch painter. The line for tickets went all the way around the block (and in that part of Washington DC, the blocks are enormous) and it was bitterly cold. My friends and I took turns standing outside, and then warming ourselves in the Smithsonian next door. 

I was thirty-six years old, had played the viola da gamba for twenty years, and was not prepared for the sense of beauty that the paintings described. Vermeer loved light. He loved women. And, clearly, he loved the viola da gamba. 

Wikipedia says that the viola da gamba was second only to the lute in popularity in Europe for about 250 years. It’s possible, I guess. I know that the instrument came into being in Spain or in Italy sometime in the middle of the 15th century. It has five, six, or seven strings, is tuned in fourths with a third in the middle, is bowed underhand, has movable frets, has a flat back, and by 1750, was on its way to extinction.

How and why it was invented is not as interesting to me as why it disappeared. Simply put, by the late 18th century, the new fashion of going out to hear music – to the opera and to the symphony, was the beginning of the end for the instrument. 

In the early 1600’s, composers started moving from counterpoint to harmony – and for those of you not steeped in music theory, the result of that seismic shift was that music which had been built on equal parts playing together, evolved into a soloist with accompaniment, or an orchestra with one section playing the melody and the rest of the symphony playing backup. For audiences it meant going from listening in the moment, to what has been described as expectation-fulfillment.

Opera was invented. Concert halls were built. Music went from being a participation sport, to a spectator sport. Where music fit into culture radically changed. But that’s the subject of another essay… 

Everything became big, and the beauty and crazy soulfulness of the viola da gamba was not built for big. 

Because of the nature of sound waves, the tuning of the instrument, gut strings, and because we can – when the instrument is in tune, the audience is hearing more than we are playing. Sympathetic vibrations start on open strings, and overtones are roiling around inside the body of the instrument creating a quality of sound that is wildly complex, and almost transparent. 

But this can’t be heard with a big orchestra or in a huge concert hall. You aren’t going to hear it when thirty other musicians are playing, too. You will hear it with a harp, a recorder, a fiddle. You will hear it most clearly with a lute. This is intimate sound, perfect for a church, a cloister, a recital hall. 

What Vermeer caught in those paintings, was clarity of light, color, and depth, and the unadorned humanity of his subjects. The paintings look simple, but they aren’t, really. It is indeed, what the viola da gamba is meant to do with music. It is supremely capable of reminding us of joy, sorrow, laughter, and rapture, because it possesses an extraordinary range of expression, and that expression is deeply human.

Thoughts on the Lute

by Ronn McFarlane

I was born with twin passions for classical and popular music. By the time I first took up the lute, I had already worked both as a classical guitarist and a rock musician. It seemed impossible to reconcile these two musical lives I was leading. But I found that with the lute my love for classical and popular music were finally joined together.

On the classical side, the first thing to strike a listener is the poetry of the lute's sound. Its tone is shaped by subtle shadings of the fingertips, creating a wide palette of tone colors. The moods and emotions of the music are expressed through direct contact between fingers and strings.

I have always seen the lute as a spiritual instrument: one that can take its listeners into a finer, more delicate and beautiful world. Indeed, sixteenth century listeners seem to have had the same thought. The greatest Renaissance masters of the lute were credited with having semi-divine powers to move the souls of their listeners. The legendary Francesco da Milano is described in an old account as lifting his listeners into a "divine frenzy," then gently returning their earthly senses once again.

I was also drawn to the lute by its magnificent repertory. Unknown to most people, the lute has one of the largest and most richly varied repertories of any classical instrument. It includes thousands and thousands of compositions extending from about 1500 until 1790 - not only lute solos, but also songs for lute and voice, duets for lute and flute, chamber music for lute and a variety of other instruments (such as viola da gamba, recorder, flute, cittern, bandora, violin and cello), concertos for lute and orchestra, and music for two, three and even four lutes to play together.

The lute's music also has a strong popular and folk element. It seems that the popular music of each century has much in common: strong rhythms, uncomplicated melodies, a refreshing directness of expression and the opportunity for on-the-spot improvisation. The lute was often used to accompany dancing. Some of the lute's most rhythmically compelling music originated as dance music.

In the lute repertory, there is no strong dividing line between classical, popular and folk music. Particularly in the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries, these happily existed side by side, often blending popular and classical elements together in the same piece. For me, the lute has it all. With my love for popular, folk and classical styles, the lute has music to fulfill all these tastes. I have attempted, through my solo recordings, to convey a broad range of these styles. For popular music - both gently lyrical and rhythmically earthy, there is Between Two Hearts. For sublime music in a classical vein, there is A Distant Shore and The Lute Music of John Dowland. For lute music with a strong folk tradition there is The Scottish Lute, Highland King and The Celtic Lute. And for a variety of all these styles, there is The Renaissance Lute.