Allegro

Allegro (pronounced uh-ley-groh or uh-leg-roh or ahl-le-graw (Italian)).

(1) In music, a tempo mark directing that a passage is to be played in a quick, lively tempo, faster than allegretto but slower than presto.

(2) In music (more traditionally), an expressive mark indicating that a passage is to be played in a lively or happy manner, not necessarily quickly.

(3) In music, a piece or passage to be performed in this manner (an allegro movement).

(4) In printing & typography, as the font Allegro, a serif typeface released in 1936 (initial upper case).

(5) In the history of the internet's lists of "the worst cars ever made", British Leyland's Austin Allegro (1973-1982) (initial upper case).

(6) In Italian use, a male given name (initial upper case).

1625–1635: From the Italian allegro (lively; happy, cheerful (feminine allegra, masculine plural allegri, feminine plural allegre, superlative allegrissimo)), from the French allègre, from the Latin alacer (nominative alacer) (lively, cheerful, brisk) (from which English later picked up alacrity).  The Italian allegretto (diminutive of allegro) in musical composition is the instruction to be (brisk & sprightly but not so quick as allegro) was coined in 1740 explicitly for its technical purpose in music and the alternative form was the adverb allegro non troppo, the construct being allegro (fast) + non (not) + troppo (too much), thus understood as "play fast but not too fast".   As well as the native Italian and the English allegro, composers in many languages use the term including in French allegro (the post-1990 spelling allégro), the Greek αλέγρος (alégros) & αλλέγκρο (allégkro), the Norwegian allegro, the Portuguese allegro (the alternative spelling alegro), the Turkish allegro and the Persian آلگرو.  Allegro is a noun, adjective & adverb; the noun plural is allegros (Initial upper case if used of the cars of appropriately named Italian males).

Use as a musical term seems not to have been recorded until 1721.  Prior to that, since the early seventeenth century, English had used the word in the sense (brisk, sprightly; cheerful) picked up from Italian and Latin although the original spelling in English was aleger (lively, brisk) from Old French alegre, influenced by the Medieval Latin alacris.  What encouraged use was the adoption of the word (in its literal sense) by John Milton (1608–1674) who included the poem L'Allegro" in his collection Poems (1645); L'Allegro (The happy man) was a pastoral poem and critics regarded it as a companion piece for his Il Penseroso (The melancholy man), a work which in some ways anticipated the Romantic movement of the early nineteenth century.  The literary use extended to the term "allegro speech" (a relatively fast manner of speaking), once often used as a stage notation by playwrights although it seems now less common, replaced by terms better known to the young.  This fragment from Milton's L'Allegro is illustrative of the piece's rhythm and movement:

Haste thee nymph, and bring with thee
Jest and youthful Jollity,
Quips and cranks, and wanton wiles,
Nods, and becks, and wreathbd smiles,
Such as hang on Hebe's cheek,
And love to live in dimple sleek;
Sport that wrinkled Care derides,
And Laughter holding both his sides.
Come, and trip it as you go
On the light fantasric roe.

Lindsay Lohan merchandize on allegro.pl, a Polish e-commerce site. 

The site presumably settled on "allegro.pl" to convey the idea of speed (fast service, fast delivery etc).  Although the word allegro was never absorbed into the Polish language, because it appeared with such frequency in augmenting musical notation, it’s a familiar form throughout Europe.  Polish composer Frédéric Chopin (1810–1849) used it as a title for Allegro de concert in A major, Opus 46 and his work also included three “allegro” movements: Allegro maestoso (the first movement of the Piano Concerto No. 1 in E minor, Opus. 11), Allegro vivace (the third movement of the Piano Concerto No. 1 in E minor, Opus 11) and Allegro vivace (the third movement of the Piano Concerto No. 2 in F minor, Opus 21).  In an appalling example of an attempt at normative moral relativism, while on trial before the International Military Tribunal (IMT) at Nuremberg (1945-1946), Hans Frank (1900–1946; Nazi lawyer and governor of the General Government (1939-1945) in German-occupied Poland during World War II) suggested that in mitigation for his direct complicity in mass-murder, he should receive some credit for establishing the Chopin Museum in Krakow, something “the Poles had never done”.

Voraciously corrupt (even by Nazi standards), Frank was protected by virtue of his past service as Adolf Hitler’s (1889-1945; Führer (leader) and German head of government 1933-1945 & head of state 1934-1945) personal lawyer and remained in his palace until the military collapse of the General Government in 1945; under his rule, some four million were murdered.  Remarkably, he handed to the Allies dozens of volumes of his highly incriminating diaries and the IMT found him guilty under Count 2 (War Crimes) & Count 3 (Crimes Against Humanity), sentencing him to death by hanging.  His response to the sentence was to say: “I expected it, I deserved it”, adding: “A thousand years will pass and still this guilt of Germany will not have been erased.”  The latter sentiment he recanted while awaiting execution, suggesting the trial had provided something of a cleansing effect but at the time most regarded that as cynically as they noted the rediscovery of his long abandoned Roman Catholic faith.  Although power corrupted him and led him down a path to depravity, Frank never quite lost his respect for the idea of the rule of law and its fundamental importance in a civilized society but was not in his mind able to resolve the conflict between the legal mystique in which he’d been trained and the reality of the Führerstaat (Führer state) in which the word of Hitler was the law.  Frank did attempt to build a framework in which the many contradictions could be reconciled but soon was made to understand his mental gymnastics would (rightly) be thought mere legal sophistry and anyway be ignored by those in the state who held authority.  Awaiting trial, he told one interrogator Hitler’s lack of reverence for the law was the “one defect in this great man” and regretted he’d never been able to change the Führer’s view he “would not rest until Germans realize it is shameful to be a lawyer.”

The Allegro typeface by German graphic artist Hans Bohn (1891–1980)

Although book burning infamously was associated with the era, much publishing was still done in Germany during the 1930s and the centre of the industry was Frankfurt.  In 1936, the city’s Ludwig & Mayer type foundry released the Allegro typeface which was in the tradition of Didone style which became popular in the nineteenth century but influenced also by art deco designs which had flourished during the inter-war years (1919-1939).  A serif design which relied for its impact on the alternation of thick and thin strokes, it used breaks in the letter where thin strokes might be expected, hinting at the style of stencils with a touch of the inclination associated with calligraphy.  It was a popular typeface for decorative purposes such as book jackets or headings of musical notation but, very much a display font, it worked well only above a certain point size and thus was used at scale, almost exclusively for titles.

The Ford Allegro

Ford Allegro concept cars: 1963 (left & centre) and the 1967 Allegro II (right).

Ford’s Allegro was a concept car developed between 1961-1962 which was well-received during its time on the show circuit, viewers much taken by the dramatic interior which included a cantilever-arm, movable steering wheel with an electronic memory unit and adjustable pedals, features which would appear in production cars within a decade.  Built on the unibody platform of the compact Falcon which had been introduced in 1959, it was powered by a V4 manufactured by Ford’s European operation in Cologne, FRG (Bundesrepublik Deutschland (Federal Republic of Germany; the old West Germany, 1949-1990).  Noting the use in music, the company settled on the “Allegro” name to convey the idea of “brisk and lively performance” but company documents confirm the team responsible for such things pondered “Avventure” and “Avanti” before settling on “Allegro”.  The more obviously speculative Allegro II was displayed in 1967 and a number of the design motifs from both would appear on subsequent Fords as well as Chevrolet’s Vega (1970-1977) and second generation Camaro(1970-1981).

The Austin Allegro

Aesthetic success & failure: The Alfa-Romeo Alfasud (left) and the Austin Allegro (right).

Often featured (usually with several other products of British Leyland in the 1970s) in lists as among the worst cars ever made, the Austin Allegro was in production between 1973-1982 and actually sold in respectable numbers for most of that time although at only a third the rate of its remarkably popular predecessor (ADO16, the Morris 1100/1300 and its five badge-engineered siblings (Austin, MG, Wolseley, Riley & Vanden Plas).  One much criticized aspect of the Allegro was the appearance; it was thought a bloated blob in an era of sharp-edges and wedges and the critique does illustrate just how narrow can be the margin between success and failure in the execution of a concept.  The Alfa Romeo Alfasud (1971-1983 (variants of the original produced until 1989)) adopted essentially the same shape and dimensions yet was praised as an elegant and well-balanced design.  Seen in silhouette, the shapes are similar yet in the metal, the detail differences, a mere inch (25 mm) or two here and there or a subtle change in an angle or curve and one emerges lithe, the other ponderous.

Harris Mann’s 1968 conceptual sketch for the Allegro project.

The Allegro’s portly appearance wasn’t the original intent.  Tasked with designing a replacement for ADO16, the stylist Harry Mann (1938-2023) sketched a modernist wedge, designed to accommodate what was at the time an advanced specification which included all-independent hydraulic suspension, front wheel drive, disk brakes and crucially, new, compact engines.  Mann however began the project while employed by BMC (British Motor Corporation of which Austin was a part) but by the time substantive work on the Allegro began, BMC had been absorbed into the Leyland conglomerate, a sprawling entity of disparate and now competing divisions which, if agonizingly reorganized, might have succeeded but such were the internal & external obstacles to re-structuring that, coupled with political turmoil and the economic shocks of the 1970s, it staggered to failure, something the later nationalization could only briefly disguise.  Mann’s team learned the clean-lined wedge would have to be fattened-up because, not only were the old, tall, long-stroke engines to be re-used but the new units to be offered as options were bulkier still.

If installed at an angle (which would have demanded some re-engineering but would have been possible), that might have been manageable but what was not was the decision to use the corporate heater unit, developed at an apparently extraordinary cost; it could be installed just one way and it was a tall piece of machinery.  Allegro production ended in 1982 but what its appearance of all those "worst car ever" lists tends to obscure is it wasn't a commercial failure.  Although it sold only about a third the volume of its predecessor (the ADO16 ranges) which was for most of the 1960s the UK's best-selling car (and an export success, especially in New Zealand), the Allegro existed in a much more competitive market.  Essentially, the Allegro was nearly a very good car and had it been produced by an outfit less inept than British Leyland, it'd probably now be better-remembered.  While it's now sometimes dismissed as "all agro" ("agro" a slang form of "angry", the phrase meaning something like "nothing but trouble"), in its time the Allegro sold well and enjoyed a better than average reliability record.

1976 Triumph TR7 coupé (left) and 1980 Triumph TR8 convertible (right).  It is wholly emblematic of British Leyland that just as the TR8 had become a good car with much unexplored potential, production ceased. 

Mann didn’t forget his 1968 sketch and when the opportunity later came to design a new sports car, his wedge re-appeared as one of the cars which most represented the design ethos of the 1970s: The Triumph TR7 (1974-1981) & TR8 (1977-1982) which weren't quite trouble-free but which sold quite well and, as the TR8 (which used the 3.5 litre (215 cubic inch) Rover V8), represented something in which the potential of the original was finally realized but it was too late for by then the disaster that was British Leyland had eaten itself.  

1960 Plymouth Fury four-door hardtop (left), 1974 Austin Allegro 1750 Sport Special (centre) and 2024 Chevrolet Corvette Z06 coupe (right).

The Allegro is remembered also for a steering wheel which was neither circular yet not exactly square.  Dating back decades, the idea wasn’t novel and such things had in the early 1960s appeared of a few American cars but, fitted to the Allegro, it attracted much derision, something not diminished by Leyland’s explanation it afforded "an ideal view of the instruments".  Leyland also attracted the scorn of mathematicians when they called the shape “quartic” on the basis of it being “a square with rounded corners”.  However, technically, a quartic is “an algebraic equation or function of the fourth degree or a curve describing such an equation or function” while sqound (a portmanteau word, the construct being sq(uare) + (r)ound) is the ultimate niche word, the only known use by collectors of certain Chevrolet C4 Corvettes (1984-1996), describing the shift in 1990 from round to “a square with rounded corners” taillights.  Mathematicians insist the correct word for a "square with rounded corners" is "squircle" (in algebraic geometry "a closed quartic curve having properties intermediate between those of a square and a circle"), the construct being squ(are) +c(ircle).

Few etymologists (and certainly no lexicographers) appear to have listed sqound as a "real" word but it's of minor interest because as a rare example of a word where "q" is not followed by "u"; such constructs do exist but usually in the cases where initialisms have become acronyms such as Qantas (Queensland and Northern Territory Aerial Services).  Such words do appear in English language texts but they tend to be foreign borrowings including (1) qat (or khat) (a plant native to East Africa and the Arabian Peninsula, often chewed for its stimulant effects, (2) qi (a term from Chinese philosophy referring to life force or energy), qibla (the direction Muslims face when praying, towards the Kaaba in Mecca and (4) qiviut (the soft under-wool of the musk-ox, valued when making warm clothing).  For a while, Leyland pretended to ignore the pedants but within a year replaced the wheel with a conventional circular design.  Whatever the name, variations of the shape have since become popular with high-end manufacturers, Ferrari, Aston-Martin, Lamborghini and others all pursuing non-circular themes and one is a feature of the latest, mid-engined, C8 Chevrolet Corvette in which, unlike the despised Allegro, it's much admired.

How to make an Allegro look worse: 1976 Vanden Plas 1500, the variant coming too late to receive the quartic wheel.  The consensus among testers was the best place to enjoy a Vanden Plas 1500 was sitting inside, amid the leather and walnut, most readers drawing the inference that was because one wouldn't have to look at the thing.  One less charitable scribe described it as "mutton dressed up as hogget". 

In another sign of the times, unlike ADO16, one basic vehicle which was badge-engineered to be sold under six brands (Austin, Morris, Riley, Wolseley, MG & Vanden Plas with the Italian operation Innocenti among the overseas builders, some of which added "modernized" front and rear styling), the only variation of the Allegro was a luxury version by in-house coach-builder Vanden Plas (although there were Belgium-built Allegros and Leyland's Italian operation produced some 10,000 between 1974-1975 as the Innocenti Regent), laden with leather, cut-pile carpeting and burl walnut trim including the picnic tables so beloved by English coach-builders.  It didn't use the Allegro name and has always elicited condemnation, even from those who admired the Vanden Plas ADO16, presumably because the traditional upright grill attached to the front suited the earlier car's lines whereas the version which had to be flattened to fit the Allegro's pinched, pudgy nose was derided as coming from the hand of a vulgarian.  Still, there's clearly some appeal because the Vanden Plas cars have the highest survival rate of all Allegros and now enjoy a niche (one step below the GDR's (Deutsche Demokratische Republik (German Democratic Republic; the old East Germany, 1949-1990) Trabant (the infamous "Trabbi")) on the bottom rung of the collector car market.  One thing which may disappoint collectors is the Vanden Plas 1500 & 1750 (1974-1982) never used the "quartic" steering wheel although a photograph of one so-equipped did appear in the early brochures, printed before the decision in mid-1974 to replace it with a conventional (circular) design.  The photograph was of what the the industry calls a "final pre-production prototype", a common practice.

Leyland's other misadventure in 1973: The P76     

The antipodean Edsel: 1973 Leyland P76 Super V8.

Although 1973 was the last “good year” for the “old” UK economy and one during which British Leyland was looking to the future with some optimism, the corporation’s troubles that year with steering wheels were, in retrospect, a harbinger.  In addition to the Allegro, also introduced in 1973, on the other side of the planet, was the P76, a large (then a “compact” in US terms) sedan which Leyland Australia hoped would be competitive with the then dominant trio, GMH’s (General Motors Holden) Holden, Ford’s Falcon and Chrysler’s Valiant, the previous attempts using modified variants of UK models less than successful although the adaptations had been both imaginative and achieved at remarkably low cost.  Whatever the hope and dreams, publicly, Leyland Australia kept expectations low, claiming the target was nothing more than a 10% market share and the initial reception the P76 received suggested this might more than be realized, the consensus of press reports concluding the thing was in many aspects at least as good as the opposition and in some ways superior, the country’s leading automotive periodical that year awarding the V8 version the coveted CotY (Car of the Year) trophy.  

The answer to the question nobody asked: 44 gallon drum in a P76 boot.  In fairness, the marketing gimmick was a device to illustrate the car had "a bigger boot than the competition" rather than an indication many buyers routinely (if ever) carted such a thing but it soon became a matter of ridicule.

Unfortunately, the circumstances of 26 June 1973 when the P76 was launched didn’t last, the first oil crisis beginning some four months later which resulted in a spike in the price of oil which not only suddenly dampened demand for larger cars but also triggered what was in the West then the most severe and longest-lasting recession of the post-war years.  Some basic design flaws and indifferent quality control contributed to the debacle which is now remembered as the Australian industry’s Edsel and in October 1974 production of the P76 ended; Leyland closed its Australian manufacturing facilities, never to re-open.  Not even the much-vaunted ability of the P76 effortlessly to carry a 44 (imperial) gallon (53 US gallon; 205 litre) drum in its trunk (boot) had been enough to save the outpost of the old empire.

1973 P76 with the original (sharp-edged) steering wheel (left) and the later version, designed for the Force 7 (right) which was fitted also to the Targa Florio version released to celebrate a P76 setting the fastest time on the stage of the 1974 London–Sahara–Munich World Cup Rally held on the historic Targa Florio course in Sicily (in the rally, the P76 finished a creditable 13^th).  The steering wheel was one of many flaws which were planned to be rectified (or at least ameliorated) in the "facelifted" version scheduled for 1975 but, before the end of 1974, the decision had been taken in London to axe the entire Leyland Australia manufacturing venture.    

Given the geo-political situation, rampant inflation and troubled industrial relations of the time, the P76’s steering wheel is really just a footnote in the sad tale but, like the Allegro’s “quartic” venture it was emblematic of the self-inflicted injuries to which Leyland would subject itself, both in the UK and its antipodean offshoot.  When the P76 made its debut in 1973, there was some comment that the steering wheel’s boss had a horn-pad in the shape of a boomerang, emphasizing its credentials as a locally developed product, but what was criticized was the rim which had bizarre, concave cross-section, meaning a quite sharp edge faced the driver, leaving an impression on the palms of the hands after only a few minutes driving.  The industry legend is the shape was a consequence of the typist (second wave feminism hadn't yet left the bookshelves and arrived in boardrooms so in 1973 it remained SOP (standard operating practice) to wherever possible "blame the woman") who prepared the final specification-sheet having mixed up “concave” & “convex” but even if true it’s remarkable such an obvious design-flaw wasn't rectified at the prototype stage.

Some have doubted the veracity of the story but such things do happen including in space.  The problems of the HST (Hubble Space Telescope, 1990) were a famous example and on 23 September, 1999, NASA (the US National Aeronautics and Space Administration) lost the US$125 million Mars Climate Orbiter spacecraft after its 286-day journey to Mars and that was a time when US$125 million was still a lot of money.  There was of course the inevitable review which found the craft’s directional thrusters had, over the course of several months, been incorrectly fired because the control data had been calculated in incorrect units.  The contractor (Lockheed Martin, responsible for the calculations) was sending data in Imperial measures (pounds) to NASA, while NASA's navigation team, expecting metric units, interpreted the numbers as Newtons.  As far as is known, neither contractor nor agency attempted to blame a typist.

1974 Leyland Force 7V.

Compounding the error on an even grander scale, Leyland even planned to release a P76 coupé.  Of the 60-odd built, only 10 of the prototype Force 7V coupés survived the crusher and although it offered the novelty of a practical hatchback, the styling was ungainly and the execution expensive (no external panels shared with the sedan, then the standard practice for such variants).  However, what was more critical was the very market segment for which it was intended was close to extinction and the five vehicles intended as its competitors (Ford's Falcon Hardtop & Landau, Holden's Monaro coupé and Chrysler's Valiant Hardtop & Charger) would be all dropped from production by 1978.  Even had the range survived beyond 1974, success would thus have seemed improbable although the company should be commended for having intended to name the luxury version the Tour de Force (from the French and translated literally as "feat of strength"), the irony charming although En dépit de tout (In spite of everything) might better have captured the moment.  Industry historians have long concluded that even had the P76 survived, the Force 7 would have been a short-lived failure.     

Seriously, the New Zealanders did, by at least the hundreds.

One darkly amusing footnote in the dismal decline and fall of the P76 is that between 1971-1976, Rover's highly regarded 3500 (P6B, 1968-1977) was assembled from CKD (completely knocked down) packs at the NZMC (New Zealand Motor Corporation) plant in Nelson, some 2,400 finished cars shipped to Australia.  To an economist that probably sounds an unexceptional trans-Tasman commercial transaction but in return, NZMC received from Leyland Australia CKD packs of P76 V8s to an equivalent NZ$ value.  Most concluded the Australians got the better part of the deal although the P76 is now a fixture in the lower reaches of the local collector market where they sell for rather more than 3500s so there's that.

There seems no publicly available record of how many CKD packs were shipped to New Zealand but a fully-assembled, ADR (Australian Design Rules) compliant 3500 would have had a higher book value than a CKD pack P76 of any specification so, given the retail pricing at the time, a ratio between 3-4:1 may be a reasonable guess, the labor component in any assembly a substantial part of the calculated value.  That means it must have been a partial exchange because however calculated, 650 CKD packs of P76s would be only a fraction the value of 2400 complete P6s.  During the mid 1970s, the NZ$-Aus$ exchange rate bounced between (roughly) 1.10-1.22 so, depending on contractual terms, that may also have influenced the two-way volumes.  By the mid-1970s the Bretton Woods system (1944-1973) of fixed exchange rates was over but Western countries still set rates in a system called a “managed float”, periodically using a “basket” of currencies (US$ the benchmark; cross-rates from the basket).  “Managed float” sounds an oxymoron but the process wasn’t wholly different from modern practice (the interplay of forex markets and central bank interventions).

GQ Magazine (British edition), September 1995.  GQ stands for “Gentleman's Quarterly” but perhaps, by the 1990s, there was some irony in the title.

While it may be unfair, the P6-P76 exchange may be compared with the “Seriously, would you trade her in for Paula Yates?” caption which appeared on the September, 1995 cover of the British edition of the periodical GQ, used for a photograph of an alluringly posed Helena Christensen.  The piece was a comment on the news Australian singer Michael Hutchence (1960–1997) had “traded in” Danish supermodel Helena Christensen (b 1968 and his long-time girlfriend) for English media personality Paula Yates (1959–2000), the unsubtle implication being Ms Christensen was rather more attractive than Ms Yates, GQ's view apparently a woman's desirability should be determined on no other basis.  There are reasons the grimier end of English journalism gained its reputation.  

Paula Yates.

Many might make a similar point between the Rover P6 and the Leyland P76 although, like the two women, the pair do share some fundamental DNA, both V8s based on the original aluminium unit developed by GM (General Motors) for BOP (the corporation’s Buick, Oldsmobile & Pontiac divisions); not wholly suited to US use, GM produced the 215 cubic inch (3.5 litre) V8 only between 1960-1963 before selling the rights and tooling to Rover.  GM would come to regret that decision but nevertheless got good value from the design, similar engines with iron blocks used between 1964-1980 although the greatest benefit came from a V6 derivative which, in various forms in places around the world, was in continuous production between 1964-2008.  Best remembered as the long-serving “3800”, the V6 proved one of Detroit’s most robust, reliable and easily serviced engines.  For the P6, Rover used the original 3.5 litre configuration (although the company made the first of their many improvements) while Leyland Australia created a “tall deck” block and achieved a 4.4 litre (269 cubic inch) displacement with a perfectly square bore & stroke (both 88.9 mm (3.5 inch)).  Had the rest of the car been up to the standard of the 4.4, the P76 may have succeeded.

Helena Christensen.

Introduced in 1963 as the Rover 2000 (with a unique 2.0 litre (121 cubic inch) in-line four-cylinder engine), the P6 was one of the outstanding products of the post-war British car industry (genuinely, despite the perceptions of some, there were a few fine machines) with an advanced specification in a conveniently sized package.  It was the first ECotY (European Car of the Year) and all it needed was more power (a flirtation with enlarging the 2.0 to a 2.5 litre (151 cubic inch) in-line five aborted), that deficiency in 1968 addressed with the release of the 3500, the range in 1971 augmented by the 3500S (unrelated to the automatic 3500S sold briefly in the US) with a four-speed manual gearbox, the revised configuration making these P6s genuine 125 mph (200 km/h) cars.  Although by then a nearly decade-old platform, the 3500S impressed testers with it pace, the usual competence of the de Dion rear suspension and brakes which were state of the (pre-ABS) art; the fuel gauge also attracted comment, praised for its unusual accuracy.  Regrettably, the P6's fine platform was under-exploited although the Swiss coach-builder Graber was among several which built nicely-executed coupés & cabriolets while in England there were the inevitable estates (station wagons) although the latter were not ascetically pleasing because of the need to follow the slope of the roof-line.  Along with much of the UK industry, Rover rather lost its way after the high water mark of the 3500.  

The Alfa Romeo Alfasud

The fate of many Alfasuds.

Sea water played a part in the story of the Alfasud.  The Alfasud name (the construct being Alfa + sud) was an allusion to it being produced in a newly built factory in the Naples region, the decision taken after financial inducements were offered by the government, anxious to do something about the levels of unemployment and lack of economic development in the south of the country.  The Italian sud (south) was from the French sud, from Old English suþ, from Proto-Germanic sunþrą.  As a plan it made sense to politicians and economists but, industrial relations being what they were at the time, the outcome was less than ideal.    

In one aspect, the Allegro and Alfasud (1971-1989) were wholly un-alike, the latter infamous for its propensity to rust, a trait shared with many mass-produced Italian cars of the era, the only consolation for Alfasud owners being the contemporary Lancia Beta (1972-1984) suffered even more.  The Alfasud's rust-resistance did improve over the years but it remained a problem until the end of production and the industry story has always been that in the barter economy which was sometime conducted between the members of the EEC (European Economic Community (1957), the Zollverein that would evolve into the EU (European Union (1993)) and those of the Warsaw Pact (the alliance between the USSR and the satellite states within Moscow's sphere of influence which essentially duplicated the structure of NATO (North Atlantic Treaty Organization, 1949), Italian manufactured goods were exchanged for Russian steel which reputedly was re-cycled but anyway turned out to be of poor quality and essentially porous.  The story certainly is a good fit for the narrative of mal-administration and corruption that was Italy in the 1970s but subsequent research has revealed it to be a myth, the sheet metal used in the Neapolitan factory at Pomigliano d’Arco where Alfasuds were made the same stuff Alfa Romeo used in the facility at Arese in Milan where the Giulia range was produced and its reputation for resisting rust was above average.  The evidence suggests all the steel used by the company's local operations came from the state owned Taranto steel mills and intriguingly, the factories south & north all used the same paints and the ovens & paint booths were a decade-odd newer in Naples.

Variations on the Alfasud theme: The Sprint (1976-1989, left) and Giardinetta (station wagon or estate-car) (1975-1980, right).

Given all that, the startlingly premature corrosion surprised many within Alfa Romeo and in 1977 a project-team was formed to investigate the causes and it was afforded some urgency given the reputational damage being suffered by the whole company (ie profits were suffering).  Having determined the core components (paint & steel) weren't to blame, the engineers deconstructed the production process including the system of movement (how the partially completed cars proceeded from start to finish).  What the team found was that while the electrophoresis baths at Pomigliano were state of the art, the inexperienced (and sometimes indifferently-minded) workforce operated them without adequate supervision and quality control, something exacerbated by the chronically bad labor relations, the factory beset by rolling strikes which meant unpainted bodies were often sitting for days.  In the humid climate of the south, condensation gathered, many cars already rusting even before eventually receiving a coat of paint and that the plant was less than 10 miles (16 km) from the coast and prevailing winds blew from the sea added to the problem, the unpainted Alfasuds often for days sitting unpainted accumulating salty moisture.

1983 Alfa Romeo Alfasud Ti Quadrifoglio Verde (Green Cloverleaf), one of the industry's longer model names and clipped usually to "Alfasud QV".

The team's findings resulted in a change to the production process for the revised Series 2 Alfasuds launched in December 1977.  The critical parts of the bodyshell now used "Zincrometal" (steel coated with a primer) which was a mix of chromium, zinc and an organic bonding resin, baked at 160°C (320°F) and that was as good a system as anything then used in the European industry.  As a added precaution, a polyurethane foam was injected into the body's boxed sections with a flexible plastic sealant applied at the seams to prevent moisture intrusion.  That had the added benefit of reducing noise vibration & harshness (NVH) while adding only a little extra weight.  Unfortunately, the tests the engineers conducted to prove the design was waterproof relied on perfectly applied sealant at the junctions but the poor quality control continued so many seams were improperly sealed which meant the foam acted as a moisture store, making the problem worse.  By contrast, whatever its other faults (and there were a few), the Allegro resisted rust like few cars built anywhere during the era, the body-engineering sound and that 1970s British Leyland paint thick and durable.  In the years that followed, many would criticize the sometimes lurid and even sickly shades but as a protective coating, it did the job.

Ultimate Alfasud: The Giocattolo (left), the world's best Alfa Romeo Sprint which included the world’s best tool kit (right).  Unrelated to either, Il giocattolo (the Toy, 1979) was an Italian film noir from the Anni di piombo (Years of Lead) era, directed by Giuliano Montaldo (1930-2023).

The much admired coupé variant of the Alfasud was sold as the Alfasud Sprint (1976-1983) and Sprint (1983-1989); it proved rather more rust resistant.  It was subject to continuous product improvement and fitted with progressively bigger and more powerful engines although none were larger than 1.7 litres (104 cubic inches) which limited its use in competition to events where outright speed mattered less than balance and agility.  The handling was about as good as FWD (front wheel drive) then got and in events such as hill climbs the things are competitive even today.  However, rising to the challenge, between 1986-1989, an Australian company solved the two problems afflicting the Sprint (FWD & lack of power).  Thus the Giocattolo (a play on the Italian word meaning “toy”), a batch of 15 built in the Queensland coastal town of Bundaberg before the economic downturn (remembered locally as "the recession we had to have", the then treasurer's (Paul Keating (b 1944; Prime Minister of Australia 1991-1996)) rationalization of why it was essential to kill off the inflation which had become entrenched in the mid 1970s) ended the fun.  The Giocattolo was fitted with a mid-mounted 304 cubic inch (5.0 litre) Holden V8, driving the rear wheels through a ZF five-speed transaxle, the combination yielding a top speed of 160 mph (257 km/h), a useful increase of 40 mph (65 km/h) over the fastest of the factory's Sprints.  As impressive as the mechanical specification was, the Giocattolos are remembered also for the unusual standard feature of a 375 ml bottle of Bundaberg Rum (the region's most famous product which began as a way to use a waste-product of sugar-cane processing) and two shot glasses as part of the toolkit.  Many who worked on Italian cars probably thought they deserved a drink so it was a good idea but these days, a company would risk being cancelled for such a thoughtful inclusion.

Violin

Violin (pronounced vahy-uh-lin)

(1) The treble instrument of the family of modern bowed instruments, built as a small unfretted instrument with four strings tuned (lowest to highest) G-D-A-E and held nearly horizontal by the player's arm against the chin, with the lower part supported against the collarbone or shoulder; it’s played with a bow.

(2) In musical performance, metonymically, the position of a violinist in an orchestra, string quartet or other formation or group (sometimes as first violin, second violin etc).

(3) In musical composition, a part to be played on a violin.

(4) Any instrument of the violin family, always inclusive of violins, violas, and cellos and sometimes further including the double bass (used by certain musical specialists but a use derided by most).

(5) To play on, or as if on, a violin (rare except in technical use),

1570–1580: From the Italian violino (a little viola), the construct being viol(a) (from the Italian viola, from the Provençal and of uncertain origin but there may be some link with the Latin vītulārī (to rejoice)) + -ino (the suffix used to form diminutives).  The sixteenth century word described the modern form of the smaller, medieval viola da braccio.  The violin and viola share similarities in terms of construction and playing technique but a violin is smaller.  A full-size violin has a body length around 14 inches (360 mm) while a viola typically extends to around 16 inches (405 mm) and the larger instrument tends to have a lower pitch range and different tonal qualities.  The violin is noted for a high pitch range (G-D-A-E low to high) while a viola is tuned to C-G-D-A, a perfect fifth lower which lends it a deeper, mellower sound.  In an orchestra, the violin usually plays the melody (the highest voice in the string section) and thus many solo pieces are written which attract the most virtuosic players.  Viola pieces are usually supportive , providing harmony, inner voices, or countermelodies although it does have its own solo repertoire.  Violin is a noun & verb, violinist is a noun and violining & violined are verbs; the noun plural is violins.

The Duce with violin.

As well as professionals, the violin has long attracted also those who enjoy music as a hobby, Charlie Chaplin (1889–1977), Marlene Dietrich (1901-1992), Albert Einstein (1879-1955) & Benito Mussolini (1883-1945; Duce (leader) & prime-minister of Italy 1922-1943) were all keen players and leader of the US Nation of Islam (NOI), Louis Farrakhan (b 1933), in 1993 even performed Felix Mendelssohn's (1809-1847) Violin Concerto in E Minor.  His skill aside (and the reviews were warm enough), the choice of a piece by Mendelssohn was interesting because of Mr Farrakhan's history of anti-Semitic rhetoric but even in that the interpretations of motive varied because although of Jewish ancestry, the composer was baptized and raised a Christian and while in recent years some scholars have made the case for the sincerity of his Christianity, others maintain that for most of his life he displayed an unalloyed reverence for his Jewish roots.  While the persistent legend is that Roman Emperor Nero (37-68) "fiddled while Rome burned" in 64 AD it probably isn't true; even if he "fiddled away" on some instrument, it wouldn't have been a fiddle because that device was 15 centuries away.  If he played anything mid-inferno it was probably a lute but historians think the phrase was intended to mean something like "twiddled his thumbs", suggesting he was negligently inactive or inept in his handling of the disaster.  Even this is now thought by many historians to be the fake news of its day, spread by his political enemies (of which justly he had many).

Lindsay Lohan backstage with guitarist Michael Isbell (b 1979) & fiddle player Amanda Shires (b 1982) at the Dylan Fest concert, Bowery Ballroom, New York City, November 2013.

The distinction between the violin and the fiddle is less about the actual instruments than the use to which they’re put although both words are replete with cultural baggage.  What is essentially the same instrument is thought a violin when playing from the classical canon and a fiddle if performing folk or country & western (C&W) music.  Of course there are many genres apart from these and when the instrument is used in other settings (jazz, pop etc), the use is up to the individual, influenced either by their own preference or some sense of adherence to the conventions describing whatever is being performed.  The fiddle (as a stringed musical instrument) has a long history and is a feature of much Medieval art depicting performances of folk music.  It was from the late fourteenth century Middle English fedele, fydyll & fidel, from the eleventh century fithele, from the Old English fiðele (fiddle) which was related to the Old Norse fiðla, the Middle Dutch vedele, the Dutch vedel, the Old High German fidula and the German Fiedel, all of which are of uncertain origin.  There’s never been anything to suggest there’s anything onomatopoeic in the origin and the most cited theory (based on resemblance in sound and sense) is there’ may be some connection to the Medieval Latin vitula (stringed instrument (source of Old French viole and the Italian viola), which may be related to the Latin vitularia (celebrate joyfully), from Vitula, the Roman goddess of joy and victory, thought to have been drawn from the Sabines.  That however remains speculative and it’s not impossible the Medieval Latin word was derived from one of the Germanic forms.

The Dallas-based Quebe Sisters (siblings Grace, Sophia & Hulda) are a triple fiddle trio who play what is described as "neo-traditionalist western swing".

Despite the snobbery of some, those who enjoy C&W music are not culturally inferior; it’s just a different form of sophistication.  In certain circles however there is a dismissive contemptuousness of “fiddle songs” and the fiddle’s reputation has suffered by association, relegated to colloquial use by the respectable violin, a process doubtlessly hastened and encouraged by phrases such as "fiddlesticks" (from the 1620s meaning “untrue; absurd”), "fiddle-de-dee" (from 1784 and a nonsense word in the sense of “contemptuously silly”) and "fiddle-faddle" (a mid-nineteenth century coining to convey the idea of “a statement worthy only of ridicule; blatantly untrue”).  The outlier of course is "fit as a fiddle" (robust; in rude good health), noted since the 1610s and apparently unrelated to music or the instrument, it being probably one of those English sayings which caught on because of the alliterative appeal and there are etymologists who suspect the original form was “fit as a fiddler” but the familiar version prevailed because it more easily rolled from the tongue.

The Kreutzer Sonata (1901), oil on canvas by René François Xavier Prinet (1861-1946).

The Kreutzer Sonata was inspired by Leo Tolstoy’s (1828-1910) novella of the same title (1889), which was named after Ludwig van Beethoven’s (circa 1770–1827) Violin Sonata No 9, Opus 47 (1803), a violin and piano composition dedicated to the French violinist & conductor Rodolphe Kreutzer (1766-1831).  Kreutzer never performed the piece but whether this was related to him being the “second choice” is unknown.  Beethoven originally dedicated the sonata to another violinist who first performed it but the two had a squabble about something and the bad-tempered composer instead conferred the honor on Kreutzer.  The work is a favorite among violinists because it can convey an emotional range from anger and despair to joy and in this vein, Tolstoy’s tale is one of a woman murdered by her husband because of his suspicion of her infidelity with a violinist.  In Moscow, the Tsar’s censor (a busy, full-time job) for a time banned the book because of concerns it might “stir the emotions”.

Viola is a genus of flowering plants in the violet family Violaceae.

The sonata certainly stirred something in Tolstoy who said he was “shocked at the eroticism” when it was performed by a man & woman and he wasn’t the only one affected by the instrument, both the Italian composer and violinist of the Baroque period Giuseppe Tartini (1692–1770) and Russian composer Igor Stravinsky (1882-1971) referred to the violin as “the devil’s instrument”.  Tolstoy depicted the violin as something so evil in the eroticism it could summon it could drive a man to murder and infamously there was a violinist who murdered on a grand scale.  The roll-call of evil-doers among the Nazi hierarchy was long and it’s morally dubious to suggest which were worse than others but probably all agree Schutzstaffel (SS) Obergruppenführer (an SS rank then equivalent to an army general) Reinhard Heydrich (1904–1942; head of the Reichssicherheitshauptamt (Reich Main Security Office (including the Gestapo, Kripo, and SD 1939-1942)) was as repellently awful as any.  He was though a genuinely gifted musician and could have pursued a musical career; it was said when he played the violin, grown men could be reduced to tears.  Heydrich died before he could be tried for his crimes but such was the infamy his name remains a byword for evil, however contested that word; like Mussolini, Heydrich is an example of how a skill to make beautiful art is no guarantee of fine character.

Kiki in Le Violon d'Ingres.

One of the enduring images of surrealist photography Le Violon d'Ingres (Ingres's Violin) was taken by the US visual artist Man Ray (Emmanuel Radnitzky 1890-1976) in Paris 1924.  The model was Kiki de Montparnasse (“Kiki of Montparnasse”: Alice Prin; 1901–1953) and the title was something of a play on words, the French phrase “le violon d'Ingres” meaning “hobby” and mademoiselle Kiki the photographer’s muse and lover (it was a tempestuous relationship). The French expression was derived from the habit of the neoclassical painter Jean-Auguste-Dominique Ingres (1780–1867) insisting on playing the violin to visitors who in his studio anxious to view his paintings.  The photograph references one of the artist’s most admired works, La Grande Baigneuse (The Valpinçon Bather) which focuses also on the female back.  Obviously, Man Ray worked in the pre-digital world when images were committed to celluloid but his post-production editing technique used layers in a way analogous with that of Photoshop and other image handlers: Wanting to explore the similarity in shape between the body of a violin and the pleasing torso of his model, he first printed a copy onto which he painted the f-holes of a violin, then photographed the modified image.  That became the famous work and in June 2022 it went under the hammer for US$12.4 million at Christie's New York, making it the most expensive ever to be sold at auction.

Kiki in a French postcard, circa 1920.

Mademoiselle Kiki was from the provinces and came to nude modelling in Paris only after a succession of dreary jobs, the last in a bakery from which she was fired by the baker’s wife for punching her in the face after being called a whore for wearing eye make-up.  Man Ray “discovered her by accident” (historians seem never to have gone into the details) and she found nude modelling both a pleasant occupation and more lucrative than the hard work of being a baker’s assistant but that view wasn’t shared by her mother who, tipped off by a neighbor, burst into the photographer’s studio and make it clear she agreed with baker’s wife, banning her from the apartment they shared.  The affair with Man Ray was thus immediately convenient but their feelings seem genuinely to have been sincere although it did end badly; at one point he was seen chasing her down the street, revolver in hand.

Model Adriana Fenice (b 1995) with viola and horsehair bow.

Modelling "in the buff" was at the time frowned upon by the more respectable of those engaged by Parisian fashion houses, something which endures to this day.  Even in 1946, the inventor of the bikini (not a new style but his cut was daringly minimalist and according to him inspired by his observation on a beach at St Tropez of young ladies "rolling up their bathing suits to get a better tan") couldn’t find a model on the books of the agencies willing to be photographed in such a thing so he hired a nude model; for her it was more fabric than usual.  The disapprobation of the middle-class towards non-conforming women persists and manifests in different cultures at different levels.  In India, nude modelling definitely is out but mothers will also tar occupations such as prostitute, flight attendant and call-centre worker with the same brush of un-virtue, apparently because they all sometimes work during the hours of darkness when respectable girls are in the home, cooking & cleaning.

Nicola Benedetti CBE (b 1987) with her "Earl Spencer" Stradivarius.

Violinist (one who plays the violin) dates from the 1660s and was an un-adapted borrowing from the Italian.  A violinist is thus a musician and not a “violin maker”: those practicing that profession are properly called luthiers.  A luthier is a skilled craftsperson who specializes in the construction, repair, and restoration of stringed instruments, particularly violins and the range of skills needed is wide because the artisan needs to select different types of wood to be cut & carved before being assembled and varnished, all processes which ultimately determine the instrument’s tone and aesthetic qualities.  In the traditional way of making violins, there is both artistry and craftsmanship.  Luthier has no connection with “Lucifer” (and there’s thus no link with the notion of the “devil’s instrument”).  Luthier was from the French luth (lute), a stringed instrument of great antiquity that was wildly popular during the medieval era and the Renaissance periods and the luthier's craft once focused predominately on the construction and repair of lutes.  As the lute faded from use and the violin gained prominence, luthiers adapted and changed, becoming specialists in the violin making, some branching out to include other stringed instruments such as violas, cellos, and guitars.  The French luth was from leutier, from the Latin luteum (yellow or yellowish), thought to refer to the honey-colored wood most suited to musical instruments.

Yehudi Menuhin on stage, 1943.

Still the most famous of the luthiers is Antonio Stradivari (1644-1737) whose workshop was in the norther Italian town of Cremona.  His violins, of which there were thousands, may or may not have been the product of his own hands because he had sons and pupils in his business but the survivors were anyway by the 1990s were selling for millions.  The familiar "Stradivarius" is the anglicized form and although some “blind tests” have suggested even experts can’t tell the difference in the sound from a genuine “Strad” and a good quality modern violin, they have become a collectable and now sell for even more millions.  The acclaimed virtuoso Yehudi Menuhin (1916–1999) for decades played on one of the rare Soil Stradivarius, crafted in 1714 during the luthier’s “golden period”.  During World War II (1939-1945), Menuhin sometimes played concerts to entertain troops and once found out that due to an army SNAFU, his waiting audience was expecting an attractive young lady to sing for them.  Undeterred, he walked on stage, telling the soldiers: “You won’t enjoy this, but it’s good for you”, proceeding to play Handel’s Violin Sonata No. 3.  It was well received.

The Joachim-Ma Stradivarius.

In February 2025 a Stradivarius violin, authenticated as having been crafted in 1714, sold at a Sotheby’s of Manhattan auction in New York for $11.25 million which disappointed some who had expected a new record for the instrument.  The 311-year-old artefact was known in the trade as the “Joachim-Ma Stradivarius”, a reference to one-time owners Hungarian violinist, conductor & composer Joseph Joachim (1831–1907 (who had been a friend of the German composer, pianist & conductor Johannes Brahms (1833–1897)) and violinist Ma Si Hon (1925-2009); in 2015 it had been donated to the New England Conservatory (NEC) with the proviso it would one day be sold to fund musical scholarships for youth.  That it didn’t set a new mark may be because, like many collectables, there is the power of celebrity association.

The Lady Blunt Stradivarius in case.

The 1721 “Lady Blunt Stradivarius” which in 2011 passed under the hammer for US$15.9 million had been named for Lord Byron’s (1788–1824) granddaughter (Anne Blunt (1837-1917); Baroness Wentworth but styled usually as Lady Anne Blunt) and in artistic circles there’s quite an allure to Byron (emos and others also affected).  That said, the mid-decade downturn in other collector markets does suggest macro-economic conditions may have been a factor in the 2025 auction, especially if recent inflation and the massive increase in the money supply since 2011 are considered.  However, the official record for US$15.9 million may not be the highest paid because, something like the Ferrari 250 GTOs, Stradivarii do change hands in unpublicized private sales (the so-called “off-market” transactions) and there are (unverified) tales of sales in excess of US$20 million.  Many analysts are sceptical about the notion of US$20 million violins because the price achieved for the Lady Blunt (though one of the finest Stradivarii known to exist, almost unflawed and still with its presentation case by W.E. Hill & Sons of London) was in a charity auction conducted for the benefit of the Nippon Foundation's relief fund for victims of the 2011 Tōhoku earthquake and tsunami.

Yehudi Menuhin playing the Lady Blunt, Sotheby's, London, 1971.

In a long career 75 years, Menuhin played a number of famous violins including the Lord Wilton Guarnerius (1742), the Giovanni Bussetto (1680), the Giovanni Grancino (1695), the Guarneri filius Andrea (1703), the Soil Stradivarius (1714), the Prince Khevenhüller Stradivari (1733) and the Guarneri del Gesù (1739).  Unlike racing car drivers who in their memoirs usually list the best (and, often more expansively, the worst) machines they handled, in neither of his volumes of autobiography (Unfinished Journey (1977) and Unfinished Journey: Twenty Years Later (1997)) he didn’t rate them although the one he played for almost four decades was the Soil Stradivarius, purchased in 1950.

Violin and Viola

Of the four instruments in the bowed string family (violin, viola, cello & double bass) it’s the larger and latter two which easily are distinguished, the double bass so big that when seeing a musician with their instrument, it will never be confused with a cello.  However, the violin & viola not only look similar but are much closer in size and unless seen side-by-side, it takes a trained eye to tell them apart.  The viola is the second highest-pitched instrument of the family and compositions in both orchestral and chamber music are so often written with it filling harmonies because it can be the bridge between the low-pitched cello and high-pitched melodies of the violin. There were solo compositions for the viola in the Baroque and Classical epochs but the instrument became unfashionable before the modern era when it was “re-discovered” and in recent decades, more have been written.  For those who want to stick to the classics and hear duets for violin & viola, there's Mozart (Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart's (1756–1791)), the #5 Sinfonia Concertante in E-flat Major an orchestral work while his #6 Duo for Violin and Viola in B-flat Major is unusual in being written for just the two instruments.

Standard size instruments: viola (top) and violin (bottom).

The violin is smaller than the viola, a full-size violin typically some 14 inches (355 mm) in length while a full-size viola is around two inches (50 mm) longer and there are variations (four “standard” sized violas and nine violins) with the smallest generally available viola at 12 inches (300 mm), ideal for very young students with smaller limbs and hands.  Apart from the niche products, a viola will tend to be longer and have a body both deeper and wider.  The difference in size may not seem great but it affects the sound tone, the viola’s ability to play the lower frequencies partly a product of it physical bulk. The two are also played with different bows, the violin’s longer and slimmer and some 10 g (.35 oz) lighter, a product of the viola’s heavier strings which demand a more solid bow to attain clarity of sound in the lower frequencies.

2018 Porsche 911 GT3 in (paint-to-sample) Viola Purple Metallic over Black Leather & Alcantara with grey accents.

A more subtle difference in the design of the bows is found on the frog (the part at the end held by the player, to which the horsehair is attached), that on a viola’s fitting chunkier and often curved compared to the straight edge on a violin bow.  This appears to have no direct effect on the sound but because it influences the way a player holds the bow, experienced musicians can exploit the variations in the shape and the differences in tone can be stark.  While there are five-stringed violins and violas, the standard is four (G – D – A – E (violin: E is highest, G is lowest & viola: A is highest, C is lowest)).  Like the violin, the viola is tuned in fifths but instead of having the high E, it has a low C, one octave below the middle C and a viola’s strings are thicker (and thus heavier).  What all this means is that the notes produced by a violin produces are higher-pitched, thus the attraction to composers for use in solos.  That’s a well-known part of the tradition but both instruments are best understood when the family of four are played in unison, producing what musicians call a “sound color” with each distinct yet when combined the four can in certain compositions be interpreted as a “single instrument”.