Instrumental relationships

By Katherine Nichols
Advertiser Staff Writer

Nicholas Zou plays his violin, which was made in the 18th century, daily. He also owns a shop, CK Violins, where violins are sold, repaired and made. Richard Ambo • The Honolulu Advertiser

"I was crying in the middle of the performance," said Saito, who plays first violin in the Honolulu Symphony Orchestra. "My heart was aching. I can't even explain how I felt. It was like one of my kids got hit by a car."

Though Saito and her husband, fellow Honolulu Symphony Orchestra musician Nicholas Zou, also own a store, CK Violins, on Ward Avenue that makes, sells, restores and rents violins, they did not attempt to fix this one.

"I didn't repair the instrument here," said Zou, who sent the violin to San Francisco. "Because you don't operate on your own baby."

For professional musicians, playing an instrument can never be reduced to a vocation. It's a passion. A way of life. A relationship with the music. And that relationship cannot begin until the more important one is established with the wood and strings or brass — the inanimate object that delivers the musician's soul to all who listen. A nonmusician might associate the importance of an instrument with its monetary worth — perhaps purchasing something he can't play as an investment. But the dollar value means far less to the musician who brings an instrument to life.

"Every string player has kind of an eternal quest for the ideal instrument," said Gregory Dubay, principal cellist for the orchestra.

When asked if she would consider replacing her instrument, Saito crinkled her brow and shook her head. "Everyone loves their own instrument," she said. "It's like, 'This is it,' and that's the only one. I don't want to play anything else, I just love that violin.

"It's the human voice." She smiled. The voice of her violin speaks to her with the same authenticity and individuality of a child calling his mother.

Because of this profound attachment, musicians will not leave their instruments anywhere unattended. If they have to stop at a grocery store on the way home from a performance, the instrument will be in the cart, protected in a case. If they have to use a restroom, the instrument goes with them.

Travel, often a necessity in a professional musician's life, can be both challenging and expensive. Some smaller instruments can be ordinary carry-ons, but larger ones, like cellos, often require their own seats. The alternative is to invest in (and trust) a sturdy travel case, which may cost more than $1,200.

Gregory Dubay, principal cellist for the Honolulu Symphony, owns one of the newest stringed instruments in the orchestra. His cello was made in 1997. Cory Lum • The Honolulu Advertiser

Singh, 31, has played the same horn that was given to her by her former boyfriend's family when she was 18 because she could not afford her own. Because she is small and most French horns are made for larger people, the instrument has been customized to fit her.

"I usually am kind of paranoid" about the horn, she said. "It's insured. But to replace it, I'd have to learn a new instrument and where the notes lie." Having one made to order can take four years.

Dubay, who joined the Honolulu Symphony in 1988, owns one of the newest instruments in the orchestra. "What most people find unusual is the color of the varnish. It has a depth to it," he said of his cello, made in a traditional style from maple, spruce and ebony in Portland, Ore., in 1997.

Though Dubay admits that the money he has spent on his instruments could have paid off his mortgage, he emphasized, "The value is in the personal connection to it."

He played his current instrument for a month before deciding to buy it. "This just spoke to me more," he said, running his hand gently over the neck of the cello as it lay on a long table. "It's a very personal thing. I find that it has some character within itself that is interesting for me to try to pull out."

However, he said, "it took about six months for the true sound to come out. It's still blossoming."

Though he loves his instrument, his quest for the perfect musical mate is not over. "Ultimately, I would like to find a beautiful, old Italian instrument. There's a relationship you can build. It's one of those unknowns."

For Dubay and other musicians, an instrument is viewed as a life partner. "It's something that I'm with every day, from sunrise to sunset and beyond."

Singh said that she and some musician friends once calculated how much time in their lives they had spent practicing. The number of hours came to about three solid years — not including time for eating or sleeping. For this reason, her horn is "a close buddy," she said. "It's very much a part of me."