"If the lutenist lives to the age of sixty years, he will spend forty of those years tuning his instrument." Paul O'Dette, modern lutenist quoting from an old lute manual.

One day some years ago I was in The Rosewood Guitar, a music store in Seattle that handles top-quality classic guitars, and they had a 10-string guitar like the one that Narciso Yepes played. At the time, The Rosewood Guitar was run by Steve Novacek and Gary Bissiri, two fine classic guitarists who did concert tours together and who have a couple of CDs of guitar duets out. Gary is still teaching at The Rosewood Guitar and Steve is now head of the guitar department at the University of Washington School of Music. I find that kinda cute, because when I tried to register there in 1957, The Powers That Be didn't recognize the classic guitar as a legitimate musical instrument (despite the fact that John Williams had done a concert on campus a few months before). Slowly the world moves forward!

In any case, I had a chance to play the 10-string guitar and it was—what can I say? Drool, drool! I don't know what they were asking for it because it wasn't for sale. One of the guys was seriously considering co-opting it for himself. I only played it for a few minutes (they had to wrench it out of my hands), so I don't know all of its characteristics, but as I recall, the four extra bass strings just ran down the scale. Instant drop-D tuning: just play the seventh string, and you still have your sixth string in E. I suspect that if they decided to put it up for sale, they would probably ask around 10 k for it, but that's a guess.

Most Renaissance lutes had six courses (eleven strings; the top string, called a "chanterelle," was single, the rest were double—actually a mandolin, historically, was a small, four-course lute, and it still is!). Then, as time marched on into the Baroque period, they started adding strings (courses) until it verged on the ridiculous. The lute was the standard household instrument (if your household could afford one), much like the piano sitting in the parlor within recent times. When lutes, archlutes, and theorboes got huge and cumbersome, various keyboard instruments such as the harpsichord began replacing them (similar plucked string sound), then, eventually, the piano. The practical limit for strings (courses) on a Baroque lute was probably around ten to thirteen.

The Bolin 11-string that I lust after is fairly obviously a cross between a modern guitar and a Baroque lute. Or the characteristics and capabilities of a Baroque lute (another one) grafted onto a modern guitar. Among other things, a guitar is much easier to hold than a lute. I've tried a few lutes and with that watermelon back, they're a bitch to try to hold in a stable position. Worse than an Ovation guitar. And the Bolin looks to be a lot more rugged and durable than a lute. Compared to most guitars, a lute is actually kinda delicate.   Also, the frets on an authentic lute are not metal bars like the frets on a modern guitar; they are "fret-gut," or gut strings tied around the neck and carefully squiggled into the right position to get the correct pitch. They wear out and have to be replaced periodically. So if changing strings is a pain in the ass, imagine how much fun re-fretting your instrument can be!

But for a singer of older traditional songs—a modern day troubadour—it makes for a great image. . . .

I'm sure the Bolin is out of my league price-wise, but it's fun to think about.

Don Firth

P. S.   As far as playing an 11-string guitar or a Baroque lute, it would be essentially the same as playing a classic guitar. As to the additional basses, "Due to the large number of strings, lutes have very wide necks, and it is difficult to stop strings beyond the sixth course, so additional courses were usually tuned to pitches useful as bass notes rather than continuing the regular pattern of fourths, and these lower courses are most often played without stopping." [From an article on lutes in Wikipedia].

Besides, trying to fret the eleventh string with your thumb might be a bit of a challenge.