in favour of holding the violin against the neck. In all
Asian traditions, the fiddle player either sits on a chair or cross-
legged on the floor, and also the wandering minstrels (for instance of Nepal) hold their sarangis upside down along
their body when playing and singing in the streets.
On the following pages, we give some insights into those instruments that can be heard on the discs of this collection.
And show some exponents of the hundreds of bowed lutes we had to leave out.
Apkhiartsa
We were approaching our stone quarters that looked more like a crypt when Mata put his hand on my shoulder:
“Wait a second, Zaurkan...”
“What’s the matter? Are you tired?”
He shook his head and suggested: “Let’s go listen to old Sakut. Just for a little while…”
“What about our mother and sisters...”
“You’ll still have time to tell them that hopeful fairytale. And anyway I still haven’t pulled myself together... They’ll
see through me...”
“This is no time to listen to music, Mata. This is no time at all!”
“You’re wrong, Zaurkan. This is just the time. Only the strings of an apkhiartsa can ease our sorrow and soothe us, at
least a little. Come on, I beg you...”
We walked toward the lone tree that stood on the seashore. Gray-bearded Sakut, with his back up against the trunk,
was gazing with his blind eyes out where the waves, like horses with white manes, rolled in the roaring vastness of the
sea.
Sakut was surrounded by people who had come from the meeting. There were at least fifteen of them. An apkhiartsa
and bow were lying on a faded horse cloth next to the blind singer. I knew that every day at sunset Astan guided his
grandfather to the lone tree. People would soon gather around to hear him sing, would secretly shed a tear and get
some relief from their sorrow. Sakut never sang his songs twice, making a gift of each one to the people. After all,
who would give the same present twice? Old Sakut, ever since he went blind, could recognize people by their voices.
He would say hello to anyone who greeted him and would call him by name.
“Good day, Sakut,” I said as I approached.
“Oh, Zaurkan. I could tell that was you from your footsteps. May God bless you, the eldest son of Hamirza. You know,
my friend, whenever I hear your voice it reminds me of the heroes who lived in the days of my ancestors. They lived a
long long time like the Narts—the giants of our fairytales... I wish you their long life! I’m so glad you came. I have a
request to make of you. My grandson Astan is so young and inexperienced. All our relatives are now dead so I ask you
this favour, Zaurkan: after I die don’t leave him without your counsel. Be an older brother to him. I have already told
the others to bury me, a sinner, under this tree with my head facing toward my native mountains.” Pointing to the
leather sack attached to his belt, he explained: “In here is a handful of earth from our homeland. Sprinkle it on my
chest after you lower me into my grave. And hang my apkhiartsa on this tree. The wind will touch the strings and I
will be able to hear their sounds.” Then he rubbed his quivering palm over the rough tree trunk. “Where’s your
brother, Zaurkan?”
“Greetings, grandfather,” said Mata quietly.
“Now you come closer to me. Bend down! Come on, bend down!”
Mata leaned over to the old man who felt his face with his thin sensitive fingers.
“You’ve been crying, lad?”
“Yes! “
“That’s all right. You need not feel guilty about your tears. May they turn into courage! “
Then he fumbled around for his apkhiartsa and bow. He put the instrument next to his thin chest and strummed it a
few times to tune the horse hair strings. Sakut was in no hurry. He turned his eyes to the sky as though he could see
its light, the floating clouds, and the birds soaring in its endless expanses.
“Every day has its song,” he announced.
The people became silent. The bow, led by his hand, moved down smoothly and then went up sharply.
Wa-raida, don’t stop
Playing my apkhiartsa,
Give us hope like you’d give
Stirrups to a rider.
Blind man, touch the strings.
May light come through darkness,
And let hope fill again
Thousands of brave hearts.
A son is weak from days of thirst:
“Mother, I’m thirsty!”
“Patient be, beloved son
Till Sister brings you water.”
“I haven’t eaten, Mom, for days!
I need some food or I’ll die.”
“Your father is grinding the barley,
Be patient, my dear son.”
The mother is soothing her only son―
Her husband and daughter are in their graves.
Wa-raida, may always hope
Be lighting up your darkest nights.
Dàn nhi
Dàn is in Viet-Nam the term used for all chordophones. The suffix not only specifies the instrument but also hints at
its geographical dissemination: dàn nhi is the term for the two-stringed fiddle (nhi means ‘two’ in Vietnamese) used in
North Viet-Nam, dàn cò denotes the same instrument in the South (cò means ‘to bow’). The northern instrument is
slightly bigger than its southern counterpart.
According to a relief found out in Bac Ninh (Phat Tích Temple) which was built in the ninth century, an orchestra was
carved on a pedestal used as a pillar of the pagoda with musical instruments coming from India and China. The
orchestra consisted of ten instrumentalists wearing costumes like the Cham ethnic group and playing musical
instruments one of which was similar to a cello with two strings (dàn hô) which is the predecessor of the current two-
stringed fiddle nhi. Scholars assume therefore that the nhi entered Viet-Nam through the Cham ethnic group or China
depending on different periods and places.
The dàn nhi is made of rosewood. The cylindric resonator is constricted at its waist; it has a diameter of 6-8 cm and is
12-15 cm long. One end of the resonator is covered with python or iguana skin; in the middle is the 1-cm long bridge
made from bamboo or wood. The neck is wooden, 1.5 cm thick, 73-87 cm long, round and has no frets. The lower end
of the neck goes through the resonator, the upper end is called thu dan (the head of the instrument). It has a stork-
head shape and is attached to two round-wood pegs to tune a string. Khuyêt dòn (gauge) or Cu dan is a silk pulling two
strings towards the part of neck below the tuning pegs. The gauge is used to fine-tune the fiddle.
The bow of a dàn nhi is made of bamboo or wood and fitted with horsehair; it is arch-shaped. Just as with the Chinese
erhu the bow’s hair goes through the space between the strings. In the past, the strings of the dàn nhi were made
from silk, but today musicians prefer metal. The tones of the dàn nhi range over two octaves, from C-1 to C-3. The
instrument is tuned at a perfect fifth. Lower sounding relatives of the dàn nhi are the dàn gáo (with a coconut
resonator box and a shell with a corrugated surface as its bridge) and the aforementioned dàn hô.
The Vietnamese say that the dàn nhi is a simple instrument than can accomplish miracles. With its expressiveness and
melodious sounds it can express all the subtle moods of a human soul. In the North it accompanies the blind singers
and actors of the folk theatre, in the South the predictions of the shamans. It plays an important role in the orchestra
of the traditional theatre of the so-called civil group of the ceremonial orchestras. It belongs to various court
orchestras to the orchestras of the new theatres, and also to the entertainment ensembles. A folksong of the North, a
lullaby of the Central region, or a cai luong aria of the South will lose much of its charm if not accompanied by the
dàn nhi/dàn cò. And it’s far from being an instrument only for traditional contexts: Lately many musicians have
composed masterpieces for the dàn nhi which has therefore gradually developed into a solo instrument of high
quality.
Erhu
In Chinese terminology, qin is a general name for all kinds of string instruments. Huqin, 胡琴, denotes all bowed
chordophones: The prefix hu, foreign or the northern folk, indicates that the instrument is not endemic in China but
was imported, most likely from nomads from Central Asia.
It is said that the origin of the most prominent family member, the erhu (
二胡), dates back to the Tang dynasty (618-
907) and is related to an instrument called xiqin that was bowed with a bamboo stick and originated from a Mongolian
tribe called Xi. During Song dynasty (960-1279), the second generation of the huqin was among the instruments played
at the imperial banquets. The term huqin and a bow instead of the bamboo stick were only used from Ming dynasty
(1368-1644) onwards. Ming and Qing (1644-1911) dynasties are considered to be the golden age of the local operas;
during their times the erhu developed into different schools while securing its place for accompaniment in an opera.
In the 20
th
century, the erhu was used in orchestras and to accompany singing, and was also favoured by street
musicians and beggars. It is now generally agreed that the two key figures of 20
th
century erhu were Hua Yanjun
(1893-1950; aka Ah Bing/A-Bing) for folk music, and Liu Tianhua (1895-1932) in classical music; it was due to the
latter that the erhu became an acknowledged solo instrument. Both are also the main representatives of the two
great erhu schools: Liu Tianhua for the Xixian, Ah Bing for the Cuxian Erhu school; the latter tunes the instrument a
fifth deeper than usual. Around 1920 the erhu shifted, significantly, from the folk domain to the academic domain,
where a virtuosic solo genre and repertoire were created. Despite the rich diversity of Chinese bowed lutes, only the
erhu became a subject taught in music conservatories. Eventually, however, erhu players took up the repertoire and
imitated the regional styles of the neglected bowed lutes.
The erhu can produce changes at semi-tonal level due to the linear nature of its timbre, and thus its mode of
expression is most suitable for imitating the human voice. Additionally it is readily able to produce certain special
sounds and sound effects that even humans cannot make, at times gracefully gentle, and plaintively desolate at
others.
The erhu people see today utilises the skin of the python as a vibrating membrane; of all the parts of the instruments,
it’s the snakeskin that has the most profound influence on the quality of the erhu’s sound. The sound body of the erhu
is a hexagonal drum-like little box of approximately 13 cm diameter usually made of ebony or sandalwood or, for high-