Susan Babini’s 18th-Century Goffriller Is More Than Just a Cello

By Cliff Hall | From the July/August 2025 issue of Strings

Susan Babini’s cello has always been a family affair. When Francesco Goffriller (1692–1750) worked alongside his father, Matteo (1659–1742)—the founder of the Venetian school of violin making—refining his varnish recipe and shaping wood into voice, he set in motion a journey that would eventually lead to Babini’s hands. Crafted in early 18th-century Venice, the cello remains unaltered from its original size, its deep reddish-brown hue and resonant tone bearing the hallmarks of its maker. Now, as principal cellist of the Milwaukee Symphony Orchestra, Babini doesn’t just play the instrument, she carries forward its legacy, blending centuries of craftsmanship with a lineage that’s just as personal.

The cello has been part of Babini’s life for as long as she can remember, woven into the fabric of her childhood and family history. Raised in a family of cellists that spans three generations and multiple continents, she was surrounded by the sound of the instrument from her earliest days. Her first teacher was her mother, and the cello she plays today once belonged to her father, whose morning practice sessions filled the house with music. The instrument, then, is more than wood and varnish—it’s a kind of musical heirloom, alive with the resonance of those who came before her.

Now, as she continues her career on concert stages around the world, Babini finds herself in constant dialogue with the Goffriller. Its voice is richly expressive—dark and sonorous in the low register, unexpectedly tender up high—and its temperament, like a person’s, shifts with time and care. Since her father’s recent passing, Babini finds the instrument has taken on even greater meaning: it is a companion in grief as much as in artistry, allowing her to feel his presence in each phrase she plays. In its sound, she hears both of their voices—intertwined yet distinct—speaking across generations in a language only music can express.

Tell me about your primary instrument.

I play on a cello made by Francesco Goffriller, made in Venice, Italy, in the early 18th century. It’s very striking in appearance. It’s dark, a rich reddish-brown, and quite large. It’s uncut from its original size. I don’t feel like the cello is mine, as instruments like these don’t truly belong to anyone. We’re guardians while we have the privilege of playing them.

What do you know about this instrument’s history?

I don’t know its early history, though I’d love to find out! However, I do have firsthand knowledge of its more recent history. The cello used to belong to my father, Italo Babini, who was formerly the principal cellist of the Detroit Symphony Orchestra.

How did you come to play it?

I come from a big cello family! My grandfather, Tomazzo Babini, was a cellist in Brazil, where he taught my father and his stepson, Aldo Parisot, to play the cello. My mother, Susan Richter (yes, we’re both Susie’s), was a cellist in the Detroit Symphony, and that’s where my parents met after my dad moved to the US from Brazil. My mom was actually my first teacher, and she was truly gifted at setting people up well from a young age.

When I was just a toddler, I would pretend to play the cello with a broomstick. I was three years old when my parents gave me a very tiny cello and a tiny chair to match, and that’s when it all started. Or maybe it started when I heard cello sounds while I was still in my mom’s tummy. Who knows? But I was surrounded by the sound of the cello for as long I can remember.

What gift does your instrument bring to your playing that can’t be found in any other instrument?

I believe stringed instruments change somewhat with the musician, and also the musician adapts to the instrument. The vibrations we create through sound leave an imprint. When I started playing the Goffriller, it took time for me to get to know it and understand how it wants to be played and understand its unique voice.

I hear the voice of my dad in the cello. I woke up every morning hearing him practicing scales, and the sound of this cello has been in my ears since I was a child.

What is your instrument’s personality and temperament like?

The cello has the ability to have a truly extraordinary bass sound and a rich, huge color palette. It’s dark on the bass side and can be incredibly sweet in its upper range. It’s sensitive, and some days I’m still surprised by its personality. It’s around 300 years old, and it needs special attention for temperature and humidity and sounds best when it gets what it needs. It’s kind of like a person in that way.

If given the ability, what would your instrument say to you if you sat down for tea or any other beverage of your choice?

My father very recently passed away. I had the opportunity to play for him, while he was in hospice, on the cello that he called his best friend. The cello was definitely my dad‘s way of connecting to the world. I can hear his sound in the cello, but I can also hear my sound, and they are inextricably linked. One of the pieces that’s coming up with the Milwaukee Symphony Orchestra, where I am principal cellist, is the William Tell Overture by Rossini. It starts with a glorious cello solo within a quintet of cellos. I’ve played it before, but now it feels like a beautiful way to connect with his spirit.

The instrument was created to connect human beings through music. If we sat down for tea, I think the cello would say, “Enjoy every sound, and enjoy the gift of connecting souls through my voice.”