Your vibrato, like a singer

Let me tell you a story about one of my favorite bassists:

Janne Saksala, in a masterclass, stopped a student right as he reached the climax of Bottesini’s “Elegy” and asked him: “Why are you playing that A with your third finger? What’s your best finger for vibrato?” The student said, “My first,” and played it with his first.

Saksala stopped him again and said, “Try your second.” And it got a little better.

Then he told him: “In my part, on the notes I want to bring out expressively, I write the letter B — for best vibrato finger.”

In other words, he doesn’t care which fingering is most comfortable for the passage: he simply builds it around arriving at the climax on finger 2, his best vibrato finger (or at least it was at the time), so he can give his best vibrato.

Hearing him say that made me understand why I love him so much as a bassist, what makes him so musical: he’s always thinking about what he wants to say with each phrase. Not about what’s technically appropriate.

That’s why, when we listen to different versions of the same piece by great soloists, they sound completely different. You can look up one of the Bottesini concertos on YouTube, pick 3 of your favorite soloists, and you’ll see how each one has a different way of singing it. And the kind of vibrato they choose for each section has a lot to do with it.

Let me tell you my story with vibrato.

If you feel stuck with it, if your hand goes stiff every time you try, you might find it interesting.

When I started playing the double bass, I vibrated like everyone does at the beginning, because you’re supposed to: it was an “ornament.” The only problem I saw was how hard it was to sustain. On very long notes, halfway through, my hand would get tense and stiff, and the vibrato was very nervous.

Why lie to you: I sounded like a goat, hahaha.

Like all my classmates, I tried to imitate the greats: I listened to recordings and marked bowings and places to vibrate in my part.

But obviously it didn’t sound the same. My goat vibrato added nothing to the piece.

One day, in a lesson with Félix Petit, I remember he asked me: “Mi niña, why did you decide to vibrate from the start of the phrase?” I told him: “Because that’s how Gary Karr does it.” And well… obviously Gary doesn’t have a goat vibrato, so it was a disaster.

But I remember that day Félix told me: “You can’t copy someone else’s vibrato. Your vibrato has to be your own. Let’s work on it.”

And from that lesson on, I started to understand that vibrato isn’t just a repetitive movement, that it isn’t an ornament you add to long notes. And that there are infinite ways to produce it, just like there are infinite personalities in the world.

And as you probably know, you can’t copy someone else’s personality. It looks, sounds, and feels fake. Vibrato is the same.

That’s why I made this program.

It’s designed so you don’t just master the technique, but can also ask yourself: how would I do this if I were a singer?

A singer has something to say. They phrase, they breathe, they build musical ideas with intention. They don’t repeat the lyrics without thinking: a good singer uses and controls every note on purpose to tell a story.

That’s what we’re going to do with the double bass. Make it sing. Give it your signature. So that when someone hears you, they don’t hear Gary Karr, or Saksala, or your teacher.

They hear you. What you intentionally want to express with each phrase.

Here, technique serves the music, not the other way around.