Bill Thorp here, one of AAM’s longest-serving members, heading for my ruby anniversary. Like a couple of the orchestra’s former musical directors, I am an alumnus of Clare College Cambridge, where I first encountered a consort of viols and a gut-strung baroque violin. These early experiences fed my growing interest in early music and led me to explore various musical paths. I have always been versatile musically, playing violin, viola, and piano from a young age, arranging music in various styles, and even dabbling with the double bass. I am likely one of the few bass players to have performed Mozart’s Clarinet Quintet, thanks to a very pragmatic Head of Music at school. My versatility continued in a memorable Huddersfield Thespians production of Oliver, where I alternated between violin and bass. This somewhat circuitous path also led to a modest prowess on bass guitar, which you can hear on a number one hit from the late 1970s Slovenian pop scene (sic).
Having become established in the 1980s British early music scene, I soon encountered the rarefied tones of the viola d’amore, an instrument featured in one of the great staples of the Baroque repertoire, Bach’s St. John Passion. My fascination with the viola d’amore was not merely a desire for diversification but also due to its beguiling sound. This led me to borrow and eventually acquire my own instrument. In the photograph, you can see its size relative to my baroque violin, particularly the very long peg box that accommodates fourteen strings. Unusually, this 20th-century instrument is unlabelled and possibly the product of a viol workshop, made sometime between 1920 and 1980. More importantly, it has a good sound.
The origins of the viola d’amore are somewhat shrouded in mystery. Though its flat back and sloping shoulders suggest a connection to the viol family, the characteristic sound holes in the shape of a stylised flaming sword of Islam have led some to propose Middle Eastern influence or origins. The first recorded reference to the instrument is found in a diary entry by John Evelyn in November 1679: ‘the Viol d’Amore…than which I never heard a sweeter instrument or more surprising…’. Indeed, the instrument can be surprising: with seven playing strings and seven sympathetic strings, there is considerable tuning before one even begins to play.
Sympathetic strings are a feature of many bowed and plucked instruments worldwide, such as the Indian sitar and sarangi, the Afghan rubab, the Bulgarian gadulka, and the Norwegian Hardanger fiddle.
The photograph shows my instrument's seven sympathetic strings, made of thin metal wire, underneath the playing strings with the specially designed bridge. These strings resonate ‘in sympathy’ with the playing strings, creating a halo of sound—almost an inbuilt echo chamber. This effect was clearly appealing to Baroque composers: Vivaldi, Graupner, and Ariosti wrote prolifically for the viola d’amore, with significant contributions from Biber, Bach, and Telemann. For AAM, I have played the St. John Passion many times. Recently, it was a pleasure to perform the beautiful countertenor arioso "Gia l'ebro mio ciglio" with Iestyn Davies in our Barbican performance of Handel's Orlando.
🎧 JS Bach: St. John Passion BWV245, Pt. 2 No. 20 ‘Erwäge, wie sein blutgefärbter Rücken’ (Spotify)
🎧 Handel: Orlando HWV31, Act 3: ‘Già l'ebro mio ciglio’ (Spotify)
Elsewhere, I have played the d’amore in a Vivaldi oratorio, a Bach cantata, and one of Attilio Ariosti's charming sonatas (or Lezioni, as he called them) with Laurence Cummings and Imogen Seth-Smith (cell0). For contrast, I have also played Matyas Seiber’s Four Medieval French Songs (for voice, viola d’amore, viola da gamba, and guitar). The 20th century saw a resurgence of interest in the d’amore, with several composers writing for it, including Hindemith, Prokofiev, Villa-Lobos, the splendidly named Montagu Cleeve (who helped form the Viola d’Amore Society and wrote delightful salon pieces), film composer Bernard Herrmann, and, more recently, Rachel Stott (with whom I partnered in the St. John Passion). Puccini wrote a part for the d’amore in Madama Butterfly (to add sweetness to the Humming Chorus and help keep the off-stage chorus at pitch), and Janáček wrote a challenging part in Katya Kabanova, where the d’amore represents the title character. My dear instrument has been borrowed for Glyndebourne performances of both these operas. The viola d’amore is, in turn, 'surprising', intriguing, beguiling, exasperating, and always rewarding—an instrument whose life looks set to continue.
September 2024
You can find out more about the Viola d’Amore in this video with former Leader Pavlo Beznosiuk introducing the instrument.
