baritone fiddle player with a need for howling, wailing, keening, droning, artful feedback, modal tunes, and aching lonesome sounds. medieval, Irish trad, American old time, post punk, sacred and liturgical song, Bach, metal, blues, Hank, Townes. You know that feeling when you hear music and you don't know if you're going to cry or laugh or throw up or howl or stop breathing? That's the thing. I work at the Freight, live & play in Berkeley, travel often and travel well.
The third finger is the culprit. My fiddle’s squeaks and squawks come from that damn third finger. My bowing is pretty good, I think, and your first and second fingers are never gonna have a problem cuz they’re pretty strong already, they’ve evolved to be that way. It’s that damn third finger….
I hear you.
The first two years I played, the third finger was weak and wobbly. The fourth finger was much stronger, but my aim with it was painfully bad. The aim was so off for the third and fourth that my teacher told me I wasn’t allowed to bend or slide a single note until she knew I could hit it clean.