Estimated Order Timelines

TL;DR: With the increased demand for Gamut gut strings, ordering as much in advance as possible will be the best practice.

As you may know, substantial changes in the supply chains and general economy in the last few years have affected all businesses. In addition, the music string industry has suffered from some production workshops closing. These changes mean that there is an unprecedented demand for our products at a time when material is both difficult and expensive to come by.

With this "new normal," there are simply no strings "on-hand," as everything made is being shipped immediately. Additionally, please understand that due to the logistical constraints in the string workshop, it is not possible for us to offer expedited string services.

At Gamut Music, we operate at "the speed of gut," meaning that individual orders are processed as they come in, as soon as materials become available from the gut room. Unfortunately, this process cannot be accelerated without compromising the high quality of our hand-made natural gut strings.

The nature of our hand-crafted strings requires time for the gut to be meticulously split, cut, processed, whitened, twisted, seasoned, dried, and polished or wound. Contrabass strings, for instance, take over six weeks to complete from start to finish. However, rest assured that our workshop is continuously in the process of creating more strings.

We hope to return to a point of building up a stock of on-hand strings, but this will depend on the continued influx of new orders.

We send a sales receipt with tracking # when your order leaves the workshop.

Kind regards,

Dan Larson and the Gamut Music workshop

Fall/Winter Newsletter 2023

Greetings From the Gamut Music Workshop—

Last summer came in late and cool to Northern Minnesota, and transitioned to hot and smokey as the Canadian wildfires blazed across the Northwest Territories through the fall. While the late season warm weather was very much appreciated, the smoke was not, so it served as another good reason to stay indoors and continue to work on building up string stock.

In addition, Brian and I have been making great progress in the instrument workshop completing custom orders, as well as finishing new instruments we hope to offer for sale later next year which we will post on our instruments page when they become available.

I hope this newsletter finds you well, and as the weather transitions, you have an enjoyable holiday season.

Kind regards,

Dan Larson and the Gamut Music workshop

365 Days of Dan: Day 35

When I was engaged in violin repair, I cannot tell you how many saddle cracks I fixed. That was in Austin, Texas, in the mid to late 1970s, and it seemed that every other instrument that came into the workshop had cracks extending into the front originating at the ends of the saddle.

When examining the first few Cremonese instruments I was given access to, I noticed odd rib graft insets that had been placed under the saddle. Upon seeing the first one, I assumed there had been some damage under the saddle that necessitated the patch. It seemed like an odd pace to have damage, but by that time, I had seen a lot of odd repairs on instruments, and I simply filed the patch away in my memory under "things not fully understood."

The second instrument I saw with the same type of patch under the saddle, I thought even more curious, and the third one I recognized as a common alteration to these instruments that I just did not understand.

Then I saw an unaltered 17th c. violin and saw that the saddle, as well as occupying its usual space, was set into the bottom block. At that moment the reason for those rib patches on the other instrument became clear. That style of inset saddle had become the victim of the "modernization" of the violin. My question was, "Why?" The inset saddle completely solves the problem of saddle cracks in fronts. Rather than the stress from the tailgut resting on the saddle being transmitted directly into the end grain of the front plate, that strain is absorbed by the mass of the lower block, leaving the end grain of the front resting easily.

It is unfortunate this style of saddle was replaced with an inferior design, and I feel strongly that all instruments would be better with an inset saddle.

365 Days of Dan: Day 34

Neck details.

In recent years, I have become more meticulous about the shape of the violin neck. Most instruments I have used as models had only some original parts but modern replacements, including the necks. So, I could not recreate an exact copy of the original neck profile. I made templates based on other instrument necks, keeping with the style, time, and place, but I could not utilize exact authenticity.

However, there is nothing like having all instrument lines available straight from the original maker's hand. For instance, my Stainer model violin has a body based on the instrument in the Ashmolean Museum in Oxford, UK. That was one of the first instruments I studied, and I have an irrational attachment to it. However, the instrument has been "modernized," so I use the specifications from the Stainer instrument in the National Music Museum in Vermillion, South Dakota, USA, for the historical set-up details. By this time, my Stainer model is really my own, with a shadow of Stainer's intention superimposed on it in places.

But when it comes to the playability details, I copy those perfectly. Part of the unspoken agreement with players of historical performance is that the feel and playability of my instruments mimic those of the original as closely as possible to give them the experience of playing an instrument of the period.

I made a paper template for the Stainer neck profile trimmed perfectly until it held in place, fitting all the curves exactly. (One of the many times Andre Larson patiently worked while I took the day to study an instrument from the collection.) Then, I copied that paper template onto wood to form the template in this picture. I carefully shape the neck until the template fits perfectly, holding it in place with only friction between the two pieces of wood.

365 Days of Dan: Day 33

My new favorite tool.

Recently, Tom, one of our string polishers, told me about this handy-dandy hand vise that can be secured to a bench for stability if needed. I have a few hand vises, but this one looked firm and stable. So, I immediately ordered one, as I thought it would be the perfect tool for holding fingerboard nuts. I was correct; this is the best vise ever for holding nuts for shaping and adjusting.

I love this little thing.

It is available from Lee Valley Tools and is called a Detail Hand Vise.

365 Days of Dan: Day 32

New purfling pick.

I made a new purfling pick today. When I was at the London College of Furniture, there was a great deal of conversation about purfling tools. Many of the part-time students in the evening classes had been coming to make violins for many years, and everyone had a preferred shape and material. They mostly repurposed old files into violin tools, and so it was with most of the purfling picks in that workshop. Although they varied a bit, they had the same basic shoe-like shape with a flat bottom 3mm - 4mm long and an edge ground into the tip to make it sharp.

I used this design myself for many years, but I became dissatisfied with it because the back edge did not clear the tight curves in the corners and would create an unwanted bevel on the edge of the trench.

I love tools, and tool shops are always a magnet for me. When I lived in Auston, Texas, I would visit a jewelry supply store that stocked the most beautiful tools and supplies. It was there that I became aware of the Jeweler's Graver. These little jewels have a blade point that swoops down with a fine edge and a short footprint of just a few millimeters. It is made of carbon steel, so the edge is keen and does not need frequent sharpening.

This most recent tool pictured came from Rio Grande Jewelry Supply in Albuquerque, NM, and is catalog item E.C. Muller Carbon Steel Bent Line Graver #10. It takes a little work to turn it into a purfling pick, but a small amount will take care of that easily. The end of the graver tapers slightly, and I like to remove the taper so the whole bottom of the shoe is the same width, and there is no need to keep the graving lines and a straight edge honed. Note that the flat part of the graver end goes at the bottom of the trench.

Happy purfling is good purfling.

365 Days of Dan: Day 31

Ball end hooks.

The string shop constantly improves processes and workflow to make strings better and more efficient. One improvement we are finally putting into production is replacing knots with ball ends.

One of the first things I did in the string shop was to develop the knot/loop. I had to have a loop to fit onto the hooks of the winding machines, and the string had to be centered in the middle of the loop so that the string would be centered on the machine spindle. I consulted numerous books about knots and could not find what I needed, so I spent several days tying all sorts of knots until I stumbled upon one that worked, and the Gamut knot/loop was born.

Knots are problematic because they cause a sharp bend in the string, a weak spot if developed at the knot point. I have tried various ways to make or adapt ball ends over the years, but the technology was unavailable at the necessary scale for our workshop. Then, 3-D printers became affordable and available to small shops like ours. Our technology engineer (Jake) was quick to envision the possibilities, found the one that would work with the materials we needed, and was soon working out the designs for all the sizes we needed.

Since all wound strings will now have the ball ends, I had to make a new type of hook to hold the string core centered on the machine spindle. This new design does the trick and is easy to mount and remove the string.

So, we bid adieu to the knot/loops and say hello to the ball ends. Last year we tied over 2,000 knots into strings, resulting in some sore fingers. Needless to say, the crew is glad to see the ball ends put into production.

For those who want to continue to have knots, we will continue printing instructions for tying the knot on the back of each Academie string package.

365 Days of Dan: Day 30

Dan's gloves.

The White Cottage was about fifty-five miles from the London College of Furniture. To get into London via public transport, I had to walk two miles to Henham Halt railway station to catch a train to Liverpool Station and then take the Circle Line to Aldgate East underground station. It was not an arduous commute, but I began to feel restricted by the train schedule. Seeking independence, I did what every Red Blooded American does when freedom calls; I bought a motorcycle.

Well, not exactly a motorcycle, more of a motor scooter. To be specific, a Honda 90.

I had moved into the White Cottage just before Christmas in 1973, and I was utterly unequipped for winter exposure on a motorbike on the hour-and-a-half commute to and from the school. I had a nice coat, and I could keep the wind out when wrapped in a Charlie Brown scarf. The problem was my hands; they got exceedingly cold. I had spent every shilling on the motorbike and could only dream of buying some gloves, but I had some leather and a sewing awl. How hard could it be to make some? As it turns out, pretty tricky, but some mittens seemed within my reach.

After the motorbike was a fond memory, the right mitten became repurposed in the workshop as protection from blisters from thumb planes. The end of the mitten and thumb are now worn after years of scraping against maple and spruce. For nostalgia, I kept the mittens and found them in a drawer not long ago. They instantly reminded me of riding through a cold night in the English countryside to my 16th-century cottage, and as I rounded the curve in the lane and saw the lights in the cottage windows, I felt like a Lord coming home, master of all I surveyed.

365 Days of Dan: Day 29

Once the bass bar is in place, it is time to close the instrument. (Glue the front to the ribs.) This closing clamp set is my home shop set, and I can't remember where it came from. They were given to me after a violin shop closed, but I do not remember which one. They have lovely, smooth threads, and you can feel the pressure on the ribs as the clamp is tightened. That allows for very precise compression.

My other closing clamps have round pads, and I am still getting used to these square ones. They seem to allow for a more even pressure transition from one clamp to the next, but that could be wishful thinking.

365 Days of Dan: Day 28

Getting the bass bar in the front of the instrument represents a significant milestone. It means that the hard work is over, and I can get on with the fine work of finishing the instrument.

Fitting a bass bar is a slow, quiet, and exacting process. My primary tool is a knife, which I use as both a cutting tool and a scraper. I brace the end of the bar between the front edge of the workbench and my chest so I can use both hands to control the knife angle and pressure. As the wood begins to develop the conforming shape of the inside of the front, I can feel it start to sit evenly in the middle, and then I can extend the form to either end.

When I was taught to fit a bass bar, I was instructed to work some "spring" into the shape so that, when one end was pressed against the front, the other end raised about three millimeters from the front at the other end. (Although the College of Furniture was an imperial institution, so the actual measurement was 1/8 inch.) That way, the bar would be glued into the front with some tension built into the joint. However, that was for a modern violin set-up, and when I began to make instruments with a historical set-up, I decided that such tension was a detriment to the structure. The instrument for historical performance should have no stress or tension, so I try to make all joints fit as precisely as possible so there is no such tension in the structure. My bass bars fit the front exactly.

My clamps are still the ones I made as a student in London. I have occasionally thought about redesigning and replacing them but have never gotten around to that task. These work, and sliding these onto the bar feel like slipping on a well-worn, familiar pair of shoes.

365 Days of Dan: Day 27

Home, home for the planes.

After fifty years, I finally got around to making a box for holding my brass planes. This is an example: if you want something and wait long enough, it might happen.

365 Days of Dan: Day 26

Waterside Workshop.

During the 1970s, in England, there was a housing crisis. It resulted in many problems, one of which was many abandoned houses. Primarily considered a nuisance and eyesore, a small segment of the population saw these as an opportunity, mainly the homeless and students on public grants. So, they claimed Squatter's Rights and moved right in.

In England, the concept of common land goes back to Anglo-Saxon times when areas set aside for common use were utilized by any free person pretty much as they saw fit, including building a living shelter. These 20th-century abandoned houses were seen as a common land space, and the free folk of England took advantage of them.

This concept also extended to commercial buildings, and it was with Squatter's Rights, a group of artists and actors moved into an abandoned Victorian flour mill at 99 Rotherhithe Street on the South Bank of the Thames.

This building was a four-story structure built on the water's edge. An electric crane lifted grain to the fourth floor, and gravity pulled the flour through the grinding process down to bags on the ground floor. The milling machines were eventually sold for scrap (it was sad to see those beautiful machines go).

The artist group turned the ground floor into a theater on the Fringe Circuit that hosted many experimental programs. A carpenter with heavy machines occupied the first floor. The second and third floors were divided into small spaces and used by light-duty craftspeople such as silk screen artists, knitters, and instrument makers. That is how, in 1974, I became a resident of the Waterside Workshop. I moved into a space on the third floor overlooking the river with a gaping hole where the window used to be, which was common throughout the building. So, one of the prerequisites to moving in was to pay Adrian to make a new window, and in this way, the residents funded new windows for the structure.

When I left the workshop to move back to the USA, they presented me with a draw knife engraved with "To Danny Larsen from Waterside." I use a draw knife sparingly, but I have a good one when I need one.

String Production in Markneukirchen and in the Vogtland

I had heard of this book project on and off going back to at least 2013 and came upon the finished work recently:

Masterpieces of German Instrument Making, Vol. 8: String Production in Markneukirchen and in the Vogtland. Kai Köpp, Jane Achtman, Johannes Gebauer (editors). Markneukirchen/Bern, 2019.

This impressive tome references gut procurement (countries of origin, animal species, slaughtering, cleaning, preservation, transport), casing selection criteria, regional economic- and conflict-related industry upheavals, and pre-industrial manufacturing processes (cleaning, drying, polishing, quality classification), as well as an extensive history of music string making going back to the early 18th century in Markneukirchen, Germany, a string-making guild town for over 300 years.

The academic work was a collaboration between Bern University of Arts Institute of Interpretation and the Markneukirchner Musical Instrument Museum. The breadth and depth of information is quite impressive, and it has provided valuable confirmations of my understanding of the historical processes of a Saitenmachermeister, or Master String Maker, from that particular time in history.

One specifically interesting revelation was the detailed description of the then clearly well established process for splitting whole gut in the 1770s — a practice historically assumed to have been innovated 100 years later in the middle 19th century. The book is a remarkable trove of historic string making details, and it has been a great joy to read.

Celebrating William Byrd (1540-1623)

Music enthusiasts and historians around the world commemorate the 400th anniversary of William Byrd, one of the most influential composers of the Renaissance era. Born around 1540, Byrd was an English composer and organist whose musical contributions left an indelible mark on the world of early music.

Byrd's immense contributions to early music encompassed a wide range of styles, from sacred choral works to secular madrigals and keyboard compositions. As a devout Roman Catholic in a time of religious turbulence in England, he navigated a delicate balance between his faith and the prevailing Protestant Reformation. This is reflected in his compositions, which often blended the rich tradition of Latin motets with English text settings, showcasing his remarkable ability to evoke deep emotion and spirituality through music.

The 400th anniversary of William Byrd's legacy serves as a reminder of his enduring influence on early music and his invaluable contributions to the development of Western musical expression. His profound compositions continue to resonate with audiences and musicians alike, making him an eternal figure in the annals of music history.

Silk Music Strings?

Silk is yet another option for music strings. There are references to using silk in some early Arabic literature about 'ouds, but not much in the Western tradition until the days of the British Raj. Gut strings did not last very long in the environment of Southern Asia, and violin enthusiasts turned to silk strings which were available from the Northern regions. Silk strings began to be imported into the rest of the Empire, and numerous attempts have been made to introduce silk strings into Western practice without much success; I am not sure where the reticence comes from.

I made silk strings in my early days, and I found the tone nice but a little "chippy." I found it challenging to get a finish to stick to the silk, and it wasn't easy to get a protective layer on the surface of the strings. Consequently, the silk tended to fray quickly. Counting out silk fibers proved to be very time-consuming, and I had to give them up in the end, as I found them considerably labor-intensive for serious production.

I don't have much opinion about silk. It works as a material for strings, and the tone is OK. Making a few silk strings to test and try is easy enough. Still, I question the prospects of producing enough of them in a broad enough range of gauges to be viable as a commercial enterprise as necessary to bring the stock to market.

2023 Boston Early Music Festival

We are here at the 2023 Boston Early Music Festival. Come by and visit us on the 5th floor, we will be here all week!

365 Days of Dan: Day 25

The United States was uniquely affected by the craft revival of the 1960s. We were not hide-bound by tradition and restrictive trade guilds, so the influences of William Morris and others were allowed to proliferate unabated throughout our land. Classes of new and old intellectuals brought new values of handcraft, design, the use of reclaimed materials, and ingenious uses for new materials into the creative consciousness of the American public. The results were new concepts in materials and design and new ways of conceptualizing a way of life, such as making musical instruments.

During the revival, there was a dynamic flow of influence worldwide as ideas crossed borders. American craftspeople were open to new, especially foreign, traditions as they pieced together their own style and work methods. Woodworkers were especially receptive to tools imported from Japan. Overnight every woodworker I knew was expounding the virtues of Japanese water stones and saw blades.

Eventually, I was convinced to try the sharpening stones. My first impression was they seemed expensive. Still, upon reliable advice, I purchased stones of medium and fine grits to try out. I quickly found that I was not fond of soaking them, and the Texas heat required drying after each use to avoid mold. It was a lot of maintenance. They wore quickly, and oh, by the way, you need to flatten them periodically. The diamond lap flattener kept me out of the bars for a month. Eventually, it all proved too much, and I gave the whole lot to a guy who was much more into the process than I could ever be.

I also tried a Japanese saw, which I found to lack the rigidity I was used to. In addition, the teeth, although razor-sharp, did not cut cleanly, especially starting the cut. I looked at pictures of the joints they made with these saws and decided that the average Japanese woodworker was better than I would ever be, and the saw found a new home with my enthusiastic friend.

I had to buy some sharpening stones for the home shop recently. I am a proud Western woodworker, and I like my stones to come from Arkansas and my saws to cut on the push stroke.

365 Days of Dan: Day 24

I recently purchased a new gluepot for the home shop. It is a cute little number designed by Hank Levin and sold by Luthier's Mercantile. Since I make glue in tiny amounts in the shop, this small, self-contained unit seemed appropriate. It is nice to work with and looks at home on the bench, and the only modification I made was to add some insulation to the lid because the knob cast into the cover gets hot to the touch.

Looking at a gluepot reminds me of a story from my London days. I was friends with one of the Charles Beare repair shop workers for a short while. At that time, they were the premier repair shop in London, and Charles’ expertise brought in some of the finest violins ever made to be repaired, restored, and adjusted.

Apparently, in the shop was a gentleman from Germany who had a fondness for a sausage lunch. As is a typical German custom, he preferred his brats boiled, so to utilize the resources at hand, he would cook the mid-day meal in the gluepot.

I don't know if this story is apocryphal, lore, or if she punked me, but I always hope he changed the water before regluing the seam on that Strad.

365 Days of Dan: Day 23

I do not sleep well these days due to some steroids the doctors gave to me attempting to restart my bone marrow. The therapy was unsuccessful and served only to cut my sleep cycle by five hours. Consequently, these days I arise long before the sun and go to the workshop for an opportunity to use the dark to reconnect to some old practices.

In my early years, my only thickness tools for measuring plates were a four-inch lathe caliper and my hands. Partly because I liked the challenge of touch-thicknessing, but mostly because I could not afford a professional measuring device, I relied mostly on my hands to judge the thickness of plates. It was only recently that I purchased a dial caliper.

I use one light behind me at the back of the room, which provides just enough illumination over my shoulder to make out the lay of the plate I am working on. I feel the pockets and contours of the inside of the plate and test the thickness flow until I know the plate thoroughly. Then I use a plane on a delicate setting to start removing wood. In the quiet of the darkness, I can hear the pitch change as the blade moves through the wood from one thickness to another. The thinner wings make a low, loose sound, while the thicker center at the joint is higher and tight. Stainer was crafty. His pronounced arches make following the outside contours in the dark, especially in the Cs, tricky. The support ridge down the center of the plate is prominent in the gloom, and I smooth it into the medium thickness of the middle wings.

As the sun rises, the low light from the horizon rakes across the plate, revealing the divots from the plane blade and the shape of the contours. I use the calipers to check my work, acknowledging that my fingers are not as sensitive as times past, and I am glad that I am conservative with the plane.

Winter Newsletter 2023

Greetings From the Gamut Music Workshop—

It has been a dynamic winter here in northern Minnesota, but with the addition of a newly hired string polisher, the shop is running smoothly and is in the process of restocking a variety of instrument strings. The weather across the country that played havoc with package carriers has abated somewhat and shipping times seem to have returned to normal, which is a great blessing.

The quiet months up in the Great North are a great opportunity to stay warm and catch up on projects in the instrument workshop and string workshop in anticipation for our Spring Sale in March, and that is what we intend to do.

In addition, I have started to Instagram 365 Days of Dan — posts concerning the events of my life and that of Gamut Music. Each day I post a little something about my education at the London College of Furniture, my instrument design philosophy, musings on the string workshop and string making, and other related tidbits. I hope you will check the posts out and enjoy reading them as much as I enjoy writing them.

We hope this newsletter finds you well this winter, and we look forward to continued business with you.

All the best to you and yours,

Dan Larson and the Gamut Music workshop