Embarking on the journey to learn the violin at the age of 40 is not a decision made lightly. For one Australian writer, the allure of the instrument, despite its notorious reputation for being unforgiving, proved irresistible. This is the story of a late-blooming musical passion, fuelled by a family heirloom and a bold strategy to embrace the initial, inevitable cacophony.
The Heirloom and The Commitment
The violin at the heart of this story is no ordinary instrument. It is a 120-year-old family heirloom, originally imported from Europe before the First World War by a German-Lutheran great-great-grandfather who farmed in western Victoria. After passing through generations, it came into the player's mother's possession in a battered state. A pledge was made: it would be restored if any of her children chose to learn.
That moment arrived this year. At 40, the beginner apologised to neighbours, found a teacher described as a well-known Melbourne fiddle maestro, and had a first lesson on the restored violin in July. The initial goal was modest: within three months, to play something beyond a nursery rhyme without producing a screech.
Embracing the Screech: A Bold Strategy
Understanding that nobody sounds good when they first play a violin, the novice adopted a counterintuitive approach. The fastest way to move past the painful early phase, they reasoned, was to subject household members—partner, neighbours, and a terrified cat—to as much practice as possible. This meant committing to playing every single day, for between 30 minutes and two hours.
This discipline led to an unexpected discovery: falling in love with the process. Even when the sound resembled fingernails on a blackboard, the act felt expressive and all-encompassing, akin to singing. The violin also revealed its existentially fussy nature, being sensitive to weather, humidity, and even sunlight, which could throw its tuning into disarray.
The Paradox of Relaxation and Rapid Progress
The central paradox of the violin became clear: its greatest difficulty is also its source of joy. To produce a sweet sound, the player must be relaxed. Tension causes the bow to judder and scrape. Achieving the required mindfulness and calm is a tall order for a beginner surrounded by grating noise, yet the daily discipline began to feed into the practice itself.
Playing the violin became a form of meditation, demanding and receiving undivided attention, clearing the mind of everything else. This focused dedication yielded results much faster than anticipated. After just six weeks, the introductory workbook was completed, and "proper" songs were within reach. In under three months, the teacher was assigning grade four repertoire.
The journey culminated in a milestone: performing five whole songs for an audience of friends, with not a nursery rhyme in sight. While imperfect, the performance was a point of immense pride, earning the teacher's accolade: "You're flying." Now, the musician's gaze is fixed on just how high this late-starting flight can go.
