Origins of the FWHUM stroke

All you nerds will appreciate this.  Well, all you music nerds.  This is a story about what a nerd I am, and what a nerd you are, if you like it.

Nearly five years ago, my 20-year old mind was blown.  I was lucky enough to hear the Beaux Arts Trio when they came through Cleveland, and those men changed my life forever so far.  Some of my longtime followers might remember this Myspace post:

There really aren’t words to describe what I am experiencing. This is one of those concerts where you sit here the whole time, thinking to yourself, “I cannot believe I was actually considering skipping this.”

Three distinguished-looking men walk confidently onto the stage. They bow, flip their coat tails behind them and take their seats. In one fluid motion, Daniel Hope and Antonio Meneses bring their bows to the string and effortlessly produce a taut string of sound, pulling me into their world. The legendary Menahem Pressler sneaks in with a sparkling carpet of harmony for his string-playing colleagues. He leans back, away from the keyboard, and looks Daniel in the eye as they cadence together. I realize that I’ve stopped breathing.

Their collective sound is an organ, not a piano trio. They use vibrato sparingly, and when they start to wiggle their fingers ever so slightly, it is the most heavenly thing. Daniel has the sweetest, most honest tone I think I’ve ever heard. I never knew one could create a dark, warm color on the E-string. My heart is aching.

Every note is a word, every slide a plea, every accent a moan. Every pizzicato is important, every hairpin is a gesture, every pianissimo is a secret trembling with excitement. Their Shostakovich is wild. I didn’t know it was possible to be so flamboyant and yet hit all the notes. Daniel is wailing now. It’s almost grotesque, how much he is vibrating way up there on the E-string. We all know he could make a prettier sound, but would that be Stalin’s Russia?

I don’t want this to end. They are bowing at the end of the first half, and there are tears in my eyes because I am starting to understand what I have just breathlessly witnessed.

The Schubert is out of this world. I think these must be the most versatile musicians I have ever encountered. They have an impressively wide spectrum of color and texture. I have been on the edge of my seat for the entire concert, wondering, “What happens next?” Everything they say with their instruments is sincere.

Now the crowd is going wild, clapping in unison as if we’re at a ballgame. The Beaux Arts trio finally returns to the stage for the encore: a movement from Dvorak’s “Dumky”. My eyes again become blurry when, in the silence before Daniel’s final pizzicato, I can hear rain pattering on the roof. He has the audience wrapped around his strong, adroit finger.

See?  Mind: blown.  But the thing that has made a lasting impact on my day-to-day life comes from the phrase, “Every note is a word.”  I was enthralled by the way their playing sounded like human language; there were edges, there was inflection, there was laughter.  Not only were there consonants and vowels, there was a variety of each.  I really felt like I could almost make out what they were saying to each other, and it was the most delicious kind of eavesdropping.

What followed was the natural “I wanna do that” phase.  I made a list of syllables that I could practice imitating while playing scales, one syllable per pitch. What was once limited to legato/marcato/spiccatobecame Endless Possibility.  After going down the list, I felt like I could do anything.  Here’s the list (and I still do this from time to time):

(quarter note=70 or so)

half notes:

PAHHH

PUGGH

MWA

FWHUM (famously used by the Marrakesh quartet in the third movement of Haydn op. 76 no. 5)

YUM

HHAAHHH

dotted quarter-eighth:

TAHH-dee DAHH-dee

TAHH-uhm DAHH-uhm

neee-YUH

eighth-dotted quarter:

Daht-deee

sixteenth notes:

dak

yah

HO

nee

FAH

How does PAHHH differ from PUGGH, you might ask?  How, exactly, do you make your instrument speak the words FWHUM or nee?  Fortunately, you don’t have to know how to do it–your hands already do.  Your body is smarter than you give it credit for.

My former teacher, Bill Preucil, often spoke of this direct communication between the brain and the fingers, a command line that sort of bypasses the frontal lobe.  ”You just tell yourself to do it, and your hands somehow know what to do.”  Of course, this works best if you have some previous experience playing the violin, but it does work.

I remember coming in for one of my lessons and complaining about my technique.  My bow hadn’t been going straight for weeks, and I didn’t know what was happening to me!  I used to be able to do this!!  He listened politely as I expressed my concerns.  When I was finished, he said, “Well, just make your bow go straight.”  And I did.

Direct yourselves, nerds.

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