Ur egen fatabur by Jon-Olov Woxlin, or How Johann Sebastian Bach Would Write a Swedish Tune
- Arashk Azizi
- May 4
- 3 min read
What if Bach wrote music based on Swedish folk tunes? No need to wonder—just listen to Ur egen fatabur by Jon-Olov Woxlin. A collection of 21 original pieces written for solo violin, this album blends traditional folk tunes with the elegance and structure of Baroque music.
Let’s first talk about Jon-Olov as a composer. His style is remarkable—rooted in Baroque aesthetics, with a clear reverence for the maestro himself, J.S. Bach. In the second part of Djävulshambo (“Devil’s Hambo”), he cleverly incorporates the B-A-C-H motif (Bb, A, C, and B in English notation) as a heartfelt homage to the master.
But Woxlin’s work is more than just a fusion of folk melodies and Baroque structure. There’s a distinct originality in his compositions. While he stays within the diatonic scale, he refuses to be confined by it. The music flows like a stream—free, unpredictable, always seeking the natural pull of gravity. Constant modulations occur, sometimes shifting keys every few measures, even within a single bar. Chromatic tones are used not only ornamentally but also as structural pillars, creating a vibrant and expressive sound world. Of course, these techniques weren’t foreign to the Baroque era, but the way Jon-Olov applies them has a uniquely modern flavor. For us, accustomed to a wide range of musical styles, it may sound natural—but believe me, had Bach’s contemporaries heard this, they might have been astonished by the bold harmonic language and adventurous spirit.
This blend of folk and classical finds its most striking expression in Järnmarschen—a tribute to the Star Wars franchise by reimagining John Williams’ Imperial March. The fact that Jon-Olov reworks such a well-known cinematic theme into a Baroque-inspired piece and performs it in folk style, is both humorous and brilliant. It’s as if he uncovered an ancient tune from Darth Vader’s home planet and brought it to life on a Swedish hillside.
In that sense, the album’s title, Ur egen fatabur—loosely translated as “made by my own”—makes perfect sense. The music pays tribute to tradition and great composers, yet remains thoroughly original—crafted entirely by his own hand and imagination.
Now let’s talk about Jon-Olov as a performer. His bowing technique is masterful. Even in faster-paced pieces like Delens Vågor or intense ones like Strömbackaritten, there’s no sense of over-punctuation or forced expression. He allows the violin to breathe, to roam freely—wild but never out of control. The result is a thrilling ride through complex technical passages handled with stunning grace.
There’s also a fiddle-like quality in his playing that brings out the folk character beautifully. His genius lies in composing Baroque-style music and then infusing it with a subtle folk performance style, making it sound at once regal and rustic. You can hear this clearly in Trimavallenvalsen, and especially in Nordanstigssnoa, where the opening fast bow strokes shimmer with fiddly timbre, and the development combines folk roots with Baroque phrasing.
On the other hand, in pieces like Strosjövågorna, you hear a shift toward a more traditional Baroque interpretation, with flowing, fast Bach-style arpeggios. Or in Furuhillscaslen, where the soft melodic line mirrors the elegance of a Baroque court dance.
Ur egen fatabur stands as a testament to Jon-Olov Woxlin’s dual mastery as both composer and performer—a musical journey that bridges centuries and traditions. With a unique voice that honors the past while shaping something entirely his own, Woxlin reimagines Swedish folk music through the lens of Baroque sophistication, yet never loses the earthy soul of the fiddle. Whether playfully nodding to pop culture or crafting intricate harmonic landscapes, he invites the listener into a world where tradition and innovation coexist, where every note feels both familiar and refreshingly new. This album is a vibrant conversation between genres, eras, and emotions.
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