Issue Date: December 11, 2005
Nuttin But Stringz: Violinists on a mission
Two talented brothers seek to bridge the gap between pop and classical music.
by Evelyn Poitevent
Just when you thought the music scene could no longer surprise or inspire you, along come Tourie and Damien Escobar, brothers who narrowly avoided becoming gang members in the rough neighborhood of Jamaica, Queens, outside of Manhattan. Armed with violins, this duo, known as Nuttin But Stringz, make no bones about the unlikely crusade they've embarked upon: to bridge the gap between popular and classical music.
We don't want to be the 'hip-hop violinists
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Given their streetwise look and penchant for all types of music -- from Vivaldi and Bach, to 50 Cent and R. Kelly, to indie rockers My Chemical Romance -- the Escobars may well be the perfect ambassadors for the job. Their sound is classical meets hip-hop, R&B and pop, with rap vocals in between.
"We're into different types of music. That's where our flavor comes from," says Damien, 18, the younger and chattier of the two. "But the violin is the voice."
And their music has struck a chord. The brothers are getting ready for the late-December release of their debut album, "Struggle from the Subway to the Charts," and a 25-city tour with gospel diva Yolanda Adams next month. They have filmed roles as violinists for an untitled summer movie about an arts school (think "Fame" 2006), and they have elicited screams from audiences on talk shows from Leno to "Ellen" to "Today."
"We broke into the game with something new and different, something string-driven," says big brother Tourie, 20. "People would say it couldn't be done. We proved them wrong."
It wasn't easy. Raised on a tight leash by their schoolteacher mom and an aunt, the brothers showed early promise. After each discovered the violin in a third-grade public school music program in Queens, they started Juilliard as pre-teens and went on to Bloomingdale School of Music -- two of New York's top conservatories. Despite their talent, they eventually were drawn to their neighborhood's darker side. "It just pulled us in," Tourie says. Gang associations got Damien in trouble and Tourie nearly killed. "We hurt my mom so much. Her co-workers came into work every day talking about their kids, and she had nothing to say," Damien says. Ultimately, love for their mother and the desire for self-preservation turned them, one by one, back to music.
"I was a product of my environment, but I'm no thug," Tourie says. "I'm relieved and happy that music saved my life."
For practical experience and pocket money, the brothers played the New York subway trains for seven years. Underground connections led them to their manager. Under his tutelage, they went on to win the famous Apollo Theater amateur night several times. Now, their official slogan is a self-challenge: "Music Is Dead. Can They Revive It?"
With mogul Quincy Jones as their role model, the brothers hope to do that and more. They don't like gimmicks -- "We don't want to be the 'hip-hop violinists,' " Damien says -- but they hope their new musical fusion will catch on and bring street cred to classically rooted players.
"Because of our style and where we came from, urban kids will go pick up a Vivaldi or a Bach album," Tourie predicts. "We want to change the whole outlook on music. Make a lasting impression."
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Nuttin but fun facts
Hours on violin: 2 to 7 daily
Bows broken: "We play so hard, the bows come apart every show," Damien says.
Strings snapped: Too many to count.
Pet name: Damien calls hisviolin Old Betsy: "Like a guy would call his first car."
Dream violin: "Stradivarius! The top in the world," Tourie says. (Price tag: a mere $2 million-plus.)
Classical fave: Pachelbel's Canon.
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Lessons from the 'A' train
Nuttin But Stringz learned music at Juilliard but picked up business savvy on the New York subway. Here, their two cents:
1 Making money. True capitalists, the brothers would divide and conquer -- Damien playing the C train, Tourie always the A train -- and rake in $300 each in just two hours, several days a week. "Tax free!"
2 Marketing tricks. Playing the trains instead of the stations brought endless captive audiences. "We broke down the trains on a marketing level," says Damien, who chose the C train for its demographic. "It's a more classically driven crowd going out to the cathedral."
3 The art of negotiating. Diplomacy was key, be it with police, passengers or other hostile performers. "The train system is very territorial," Tourie says.
4 Honing a craft. Playing the subway was the equivalent of logging several performance hours each week, refining their technique before an audience.
5 Networking. They landed freelance gigs and made record label contacts on board.
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