Musician’s 1st Love, Amplified

Viken Najarian is betting that he can do for the oud what Leo Fender did for the guitar.

Working alone in his dusty garage workshop, Najarian has produced an electric version of the oud, a pear-shaped instrument that has been an integral part of Middle Eastern folk music for more than 2,000 years.

And, in a venture that smacks of carrying coals to Newcastle, the Anaheim Hills resident now plans to sell his plugged-in oud to players in cabarets and cafes throughout the Middle East who are losing the decibel battle to more powerful electric guitars and keyboards.

The electric version represents a radical alteration for a stringed instrument that’s changed little over the centuries, and music industry experts caution that the 32-year-old Najarian faces an uphill battle.

“I find that musicians are inherently conservative, and this is a very radical design,” said Daniel Mari, president and owner of New York-based Mari Strings Inc., which manufactures oud strings used by players around the world.

Standing at a workbench cluttered with power tools and ouds in various stages of completion, Najarian is representative of artisans around the country who dream of building businesses out of beloved musical instruments that are bit players in this country’s mainstream music world.

“These craftsmen are a valuable addition to a community because they help to keep traditions alive,” said Ali Jihad Racy, a professor of ethnomusicology at UCLA. “For many immigrants who come to America, their musical instruments become symbols of their heritage.”

But while musical instrument makers can be assets to immigrant communities, luthiers--makers of stringed instruments--say it’s tough to turn a profit on their handmade Russian balalaikas, South American flutes, European hammer dulcimers and Middle East ouds. Few craftsmen, for example, have been as successful as Remo D. Belli, whose North Hollywood-based Remo Inc. has grown from a small family business into a leading manufacturer with a broad line of percussion instruments.

Relatively unknown instruments such as the oud are rarely heard in this country’s musical mainstream. Only occasionally, for example, does Najarian sell an instrument to a player without a Middle Eastern heritage. But he has added a “how to play an oud” book and video designed to introduce the instrument to newcomers.

Occasionally, instruments get a lift from being in the media spotlight. In the 1960s, for example, the Beatles introduced the sitar to popular music fans. But Laguna Beach resident Jim Fyhrie, who has handcrafted hammer dulcimers since 1968, says that it’s difficult for niche instruments like his to draw consumers away from their growing love affair with electronic gadgets and computer-driven sounds.

Many of these instruments “would disappear if it weren’t for the handful of makers who still build them,” Fyhrie said.

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Craftsmen also find themselves caught between often conflicting demands of traditional musicians and players with a sense of adventure. Old-world enthusiasts say that musical instruments, like ethnic food, must be true to their roots. Forward-looking musicians argue that instruments that don’t change with the times won’t survive.

“The question is how to establish that balance,” Racy said. “A lot of the time, people in this country are interested in going back to their roots with traditional instruments, while the ones back home are trying to modernize or westernize their sounds.”

Najarian is counting on that apparent dichotomy to help build acceptance in the Middle East for his decidedly different electric oud, which has a flat body instead of the oud’s traditional fat belly.

Najarian, an accomplished musician who earned a bachelor’s degree in musicology from UCLA, plays the oud four nights a week at restaurants and clubs in Southern California. He began building electric ouds in the early 1990s out of frustration with the acoustic instrument’s limitations.

“I was always getting drowned out by electric guitars and keyboards,” Najarian said. He tried amplifying an acoustic oud, but the wealth of sounds rumbling around in the instrument’s egg-shaped belly produced unwanted distortion.

That’s when Najarian ripped a page out of Leo Fender’s book by experimenting with electronic pickups buried inside a flat, hard-bodied instrument. His latest generation of instruments is remarkably faithful to the acoustic original in terms of sound.

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Najarian, who has seen oud players switch to electric guitars because of amplification problems, is confident that Middle Eastern musicians who look past design differences will be pleased when they plug his instruments into an amplifier.

During a recent music industry trade show in Anaheim, Najarian paved the way for sales by hooking up with a musical instrument distributor with contacts in the Middle East. Najarian, who makes ends meet by performing, selling an occasional handmade instrument and repairing broken ouds, is stepping cautiously as he expands.

“The thought of trying to sell overseas is intimidating because I’m such a small shop,” said Najarian, whose one-man booth at the recent National Assn. of Music Manufacturers show was nearly lost among glitzy exhibits erected by major instrument companies. “So finding someone to help export them is going to be a real help.”

Najarian learned to craft traditional acoustic ouds from his grandfather, who made his first oud in Beirut in the early 1900s. He’s not sure how his grandfather, who died in 1980, would say about his plan: “An electric oud is something that my grandfather would never have dreamed of.”

The Beirut native, who moved to Orange County with his family in 1975, began building acoustic ouds because “none of my grandfather’s seven kids picked up the instrument, and none of his grandchildren had shown any interest. I just thought someone should keep the instrument alive.”

Najarian has done just that, according to UCLA’s Racy, who has played instruments crafted by both family members. For the acoustic model, Najarian uses traditional molds to form the instruments’ fat bellies, using thin strips of beechwood, walnut or mahogany.

But, like most luthiers, Najarian uses modern power tools to speed the process along--giving him even more appreciation for the time-consuming nature of building the instruments totally by hand, as his grandfather did.

Najarian got an unexpected glimpse into his grandfather’s legacy a few years back when a customer sent a badly damaged oud in for repairs. When he removed the face from the instrument he saw a picture of the luthier who built the instrument in 1926. Najarian was stunned when his father identified the man in the picture as Najarian’s grandfather.

“I have no idea how that oud made its way here,” said Najarian, who bought the oud from its owner. “But it’s a real special instrument for me.”

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Najarian’s craftsmanship wins praise from Racy, who taught Najarian at UCLA’s undergraduate music program and who has played Najarian’s acoustic and electric ouds: “I think it’s wonderful that Viken has been able to maintain the Najarian family’s musical legacy.”

Najarian’s instruments aren’t cheap: A basic acoustic model retails at about $850, and professional models can cost $2,000 or more. The electric model is set for sale at about $1,500.

It’s a tricky business, pricing an instrument so the luthier can earn a living and players can afford to buy instruments.

“You put your heart and soul into making these instruments and you can’t sell them for less than $700 or $800,” said Mari, the strings manufacturer. “You spend months working on them, so you can’t be turning out more than a handful a year.

“But once these [craftsmen] are accepted, they have no problem,” Mari said. “The top violin makers, for example, can charge $10,000 for one violin.”