Virtuoso, ex-con, Columbus' prodigal son
By Mark J. Lucas |
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Christian Howes' violin catapulted him to youthful success, provided him solace in the most miserable of conditions, and brought him into the close company of one of the most famous musicians in America. Now he is offering his talent to Columbus, once again.
At age sixteen, Christian Howes was on his way to early fame, one of the youngest professional musicians in the country, a prodigy playing violin with the Columbus Symphony Orchestra. A few years later, he was serving out a four-year prison sentence for trafficking LSD.
And only a few years after his release, he was playing alongside Les Paul at Carnegie Hall.
While America teems with the poetry of tribulation, sin, and redemption, Howes piloted his saga deliberately, not only recovering from failures others would have found crippling, but channeling them into powerful success . . . and then bringing it all back home to his community.
Christian Howes demonstrating is amazing jazz violin skills
Photo: Chris Casella
To look at Christian Howes, you wouldn't assume that he was a jazz violinist, even if you knew there was such a thing as jazz violin. He's got large, meaty hands, with thick fingers that look like they'd be more adept at crushing the instrument than playing it.
Raised by musical parents on the Suzuki method of violin, a rigorous program that emphasizes music as a language (and thus best learned early), Howes has been playing violin since he was five years old under the tutelage of Virginia Christopherson at the Capital University Conservatory of Music, learning the context and the rules that govern music. Later, bending and even breaking those rules would make him a trailblazer.
"[I] stayed involved with the classical stuff," said Howes, "but also started playing in rock bands in high school - bass and guitar and stuff, just because that was the hip thing to do."
Upon graduating high school a year early, OSU offered the budding genius a deal he couldn't refuse.
"I was kind of a big fish in a small pond, as far as the music school was concerned," he said. "I was in the honors program, the honors dorm and all that stuff."
Young talent often a bedfellow of isolation makes. Still in his teens, and without many others his age to relate to in school, Howes sought companionship with twenty-something musicians outside the classroom. This brought about a change in direction that would later shape him for the rest of his life.
"I kind of got into that quasi-hippie scene a little bit," explained Howes. "It was a way to find my place, to make me feel like I was a part of something. I was just kind of a pothead that passed around little bags, and then I got caught up in this stake - it was an LSD thing."
Early in the 1990s, Howes ended up selling 15 sheets of acid (roughly $15,000 worth by today's standards) to an undercover cop and was arrested.
Due to the stiff penalties conferred on acid convictions, he found himself facing a sentence of 15 years to life, but because he pled guilty, he was given a reduced sentence, which he began at the state penitentiary in Chillicothe. Only twenty years old at the time, Howes wouldn't again taste freedom until the age of 24 - but while in prison, he found music in the most unlikely places.
"When you're in there, you'll see that there's music that happens in prison," said Howes. "When you walk around a prison yard, you'll have guys beating on picnic tables, doing rap and hip hop, and you'll have some guy down the way strumming on a guitar and singing some classic rock tune, and you'll have these gospel singers . . . you'll have all the different factions and cultural groups, different generations, people from the city, people from the country, all gathering into different musical entities, but then you'll have a lot of cross-pollination within that, too."
Howes' musical knowledge became an asset to him on the inside. Ordinarily, different factions within a prison would force new prisoners to choose one faction over the others, but because Howes possessed a skill that many inmates realized might benefit them on the outside he "was given a pass," and found himself tutoring them in formal musical training.
In an odd way, his stay would benefit him later as he began life over, restarting his career with a grassroots push - from the ground up.
"Being in jail, I realized that music is just an organic human thing that happens," said Howes. "It's not something that's tied to press releases and record deals. Out here, we tend to think that being a musician requires you to make opportunities to play. 'Who's gonna hire me to play music?' . . . In prison, you don't think about that. You just play, because you have to," he said. "That's part of the humanity that comes into this very de-humanized environment. That was part of the reason that when I got out I wasn't fettered by these ideas. I'd been to the lowest points that I could be, and there was no shame in my game. I just wanted to go out and do my thing."
After being released, Howes went from place to place - from restaurants to small venues and clubs, introducing himself to the manager and offering to play for free for half an hour, then negotiating payment for more shows if they liked what they heard. He had a unique product to sell, as jazz is a genre of music not ordinarily associated with violin.
"You don't think of violin being in rock music, jazz music," explained Howes. "It's an open field, which has its pros and cons, but I look at it as being an advantage. When I started doing it in Columbus, even 13 years ago, when I was 24, there was probably no one else in the state doing what I was doing. Maybe one guy in every state, or something. I felt like, 'Why shouldn't I be able to rock out on the violin?'" he said. "There's no physical reason, there's no scientific reason. The only reason is because of this culture of education. Violin players learn from a very early age in this very strict environment, which is all in its own enclave [that's] separated from the rest of the world, and it's all about the western-European canon of knowledge. This is part of the advent of multi-culturalism and globalization, really."
Howe's piecemeal self-marketing eventually led to him doing shows in other cities.
"I would go to Cincinnati and sit in on jam sessions, or I would drive up to Toledo for $75 on a Tuesday night, and play with some band up there. I would just do anything I could to try and book gigs outside of town. Then I started booking tours all the way up through Minneapolis and Iowa and Chicago, through Wisconsin . . . I would take different bands with me. I didn't make any money."
In his late 20s, it became clear to Howes that he didn't have to run all over the country trying to get into the business. He could get acts to come to him and play locally at Dick's Den on North High Street, just a stone's throw away from where he grew up. He began tapping big name acts to come to Columbus, so that he could establish relationships that would get him work. His success aligned him with several prominent artists in New York.
"People started asking me to come to New York and do things, play on records, so I moved to New York," recalled Howes. "I started making a lot of great relationships, probably most notably with Les Paul, and I played with him for the last eight years on his Monday gig at The Iridium."
"He was a great friend, and a great mentor," he said, of the famous guitarist and designer of the Gibson Les Paul electric guitar. "I got to know him very well. I got to play with him all the time. I played with a lot of great people in New York that were in different scenes: classical players, straight-ahead jazz players, Latin players. I really struggled in that scene, but eventually built a name for myself [there]."
Eventually, the call of home reached Howes, whose daughter Camille lives in Columbus. Though he maintains an apartment in New York, he wanted to be closer to her. She studies under Virginia Christopherson at Capital, like her father before her, and she and Howes have played at ComFest together for the last six years.
"As I started working with my daughter, I realized that I really like teaching, and I'm really good at it," said Howes. "So I started a camp called the Creative Strings Workshop out of Columbus, and it's going to be in its sixth year, this year. The idea was that string players all around the world - adults - could come here and study with me and use my stomping ground, Columbus, as a scene to be inspired, so they'd learn where I learned: in the streets, in the clubs, in the theaters, in parks, playing for real people in a real community."
The Creative Strings Workshop doubles as the Creative Strings Festival, in which Howes' musicians (usually about 60 or so) play 25 concerts in five days. During the day, they workshop at Otterbein University, and every night they play at Dick's Den. This year, it will take place between June 28th and July 4th. Though Howes is still in the market for new venues, past venues have included a variety of places, including Goodale Park, various restaurants, the North Market, and suburban stages around town. There's even an education program for the kids, where they can observe the group.
"It's wind powered," explained Howes, "because [the musicians] need the experience of playing for people in new creative ways, and the city needs good talent."
In addition to the Creative Strings Festival, Howes now hosts a show at Dick's Den, where he got his start in jazz violin, every Wednesday.
"When I was thinking about setting up a base in Columbus again, I thought 'Why not do Wednesdays at Dick's Den," said Howes. "I'll be [there] most Wednesdays, but when I'm traveling, I'll set up other special shows here, so that you know every Wednesday there'll be someone special."
It's been quite the interesting journey for Howes, from the lowest lows to the highest highs, but fortunately for Columbus, he's brought his wellspring of knowledge back to our neck of the woods. Jazz violin still isn't very well known, but with trailblazers like Howes at the helm, it will assuredly find a niche in Columbus, and perhaps inspire another youngster, the way he was inspired.
See Christian Howes perform his stunning jazz violin at Dick's Den (2417 N High St.) every Wednesday night.
Originally Published: January 1, 2010
