BOCCOLINI: The Violin

For the past year and a half, I have had what may or may not be classified as an obsession with the violin. I don’t know exactly when this fascination started, but I can recall precisely who set me off.  Let’s start with some background, shall we? I started playing the piano at age eight, the alto saxophone at age nine, and the guitar at age 14. I dabbled in bass and harmonica, but I wouldn’t call myself a connoisseur of either of these instruments.

Naturally, being in the school band from grades four through 12, I had an acquired distaste for orchestras. The strings were whiny, the music too old-fashioned – plus they always got a better timeslot in the school concert. Then, in ninth grade, band had to combine with orchestra on “The Barber of Seville,” and let’s just say we were pretty upset. Here they were, in our band room, sitting in our chairs, their strings screeching in our ears. Even the most talented violinist, a girl my age and a good friend, couldn’t change my opinion.

But then a good friend of mine burnt me a CD, Andrew Bird’s “Andrew Bird and the Mysterious Production of Eggs.”  If you’ve never heard this album you need to go out and buy it now. You probably can’t run fast enough to quell my impatience, but at least make the effort.

Gone are the classical nature and the hints of composers past. Bird almost makes the violin a new instrument. The notes bend and swerve like a mountain road, the violin adding a subtle yet discernable touch to his clever lyrics.

If violin could be like that, I thought, I liked it. So I found a place in the next town where I could take lessons and started going there every Saturday at 10:00 a.m. But I only went for about a month.  The lessons were too early, my teacher was annoying, and I could never figure out how tight to make the bowstrings.

Alas, I took it out on that poor rental violin. How many owners must it have seen, picking it up and using it for their own selfish devices before pushing it back over the store’s counter with a stern frown? And now I was one of those cruel souls.

Of course, I didn’t realize my own selfishness at the time. It wasn’t the violin that I didn’t like, but I only figured that out after I glanced at my laptop and saw that Google Chrome was open to Amazon and there was a picture of a violin in the left hand corner. Oh, Toshiba. You know me so well.

I decided I’d give it a month, just to make sure it wasn’t some passing fancy (like when I thought I liked country music). It’s been about a month now, and I still haven’t taken the plunge. I think what’s holding me back is that if I place the order, it will sit at my house for a month and a half before I ever play it. And I can’t leave a violin alone like that again. Not this time.

Liz Boccolini is a freshman in the College of Communication and a weekly columnist for The Daily Free Press. She can be reached at lizboc@bu.edu.