You only have to think of the expression “tugging at the heart strings” to be reminded of the way we connect emotionally with the sound of the violin. But for years, the strings have been marginalised in the world of pop – sidelined to the slushy world of ballads, lazily used to suggest drama or sophistication. To all intents and purposes, strings had become the sonic equivalent of the highlighter pen. Until now.

While artists such as Joanna Newsom and Sufjan Stevens made a breakthrough for a broader kind of orchestral pop last year, playing sell-out shows at classical venues, this year the spotlight is focused firmly on strings. Already 2007 has delivered fine releases from the likes of the Memory Band, with their sinuous string-led folk. Then there’s the latest album from the French composer Colleen (aka Cécile Schott). Les Ondes Silencieuses was developed around Schott’s love for the viola da gamba, an early, seven-stringed cello.

By the time the Latitude Festival took place in Suffolk last month, string-mania had arrived. There were fiddles everywhere; from the London spook of The Good, The Bad and The Queen, to Patrick Wolf’s pop fairytales, and Arcade Fire’s hell-for-leather string apocalypto, the latter directed by the Toronto violin wunderkind Owen Pallett (aka Final Fantasy).

So what has brought on our fancy for strings? Certainly there’s a feeling that in this most dramatic year of war and floods, only a mighty soundtrack will do. Equally, pop’s relentless, synthesised technical evolution has made many people start longing for a more organic sound. And in a way, the sound of violins is revolutionary; punk was once synonymous with electric guitars and shouting, but since that’s now the norm, it’s no longer shocking. It’s far more innovative to use a classical instrument in a way it’s never been played before.

It’s true, says Bill McKenzie, the proprietor of The Violin Shop in Glasgow, that there has been an upsurge in young people buying violins in the past couple of years. “I’d say more than 60 per cent of our customers are under 30,” he says. “I think it’s partly because the violin is so versatile. But also it’s always been said that the violin is the closest thing to the human voice – and maybe it’s on the same frequency range because it resonates deep down. It’s like there’s something about it that stirs the blood.”

To see this in action at Latitude, one needed look no further than the Chicago violinist Andrew Bird. When Bird took the stage, his audience was incredulous at first, and then rapt. Why? Well, for starters he’s technically brilliant: a virtuoso, he has created a unique system of pedals that allows him to record a refrain as he plays it – say, a couple of bars of pizzicato plucks – then play it back while playing and recording another – a sweeping melody – and so on, so that suddenly a mini orchestra is manifest on stage. Then, there’s Bird’s voice, which recalls the melancholy softness of Chet Baker, but with a sultry flourish; and lyrics which consider the modern human condition (“Your thoughts are so soft I could cut ’em with a spork,” he sings on Spare-Ohs). And Bird cuts quite a dash onstage. He is a handsome, skinny man – one minute he’s lost in an arpeggio; the next, gazing quizzically at an imagined point in front of him, caught in animated debate with the subject of his song. These, one suspects, are the talents that have seen his star in the ascendant this year, appearing on the Letter-man show in the US, selling out tours in Europe and winning such new fans as Danny de Vito. Bird’s way with a violin is a million miles away from what many people associate with anything vaguely classical – formality, fustiness and yawning.

“I do get possessed,” admits Bird, having wolfed down lunch at the British Library café in the run-up to his recent London show. “A lot of times I sing something that I wasn’t planning to do at all, and I don’t know where it came from.” Part of the excitement of Bird’s shows is this element of the unknown, and his looping system means he can find musicality in the simplest phrase, right there and then.

Of course, to express yourself instinctively like this, mastery of your instrument is a boon, and Bird has been playing violin since he was four years old under the Suzuki method. “It’s based on the principle that if you teach music to children when they’re learning language it uses the same part of the brain, because it involves sound,” he explains. Early lessons were spent simply turning up and bowing to the teacher. “It’s a bit fascist in some ways,” he says. “You know, you wear these little uniforms, march in lines. I was playing hours and hours a day, but I didn’t like having to map out the instrument. I wanted there to be mysterious parts where it’s a bit of a stab in the dark. And to this day, it’s still the way I play. A lot of my teachers wanted me to learn this technique where everything is fixed – there’s no doubt you’re going to hit that note. I’m a bit more like a slide whistle.”

Bird plays an instrument that was handmade by a Polish violin-maker, one of only 40 crafted in his lifetime. This is a serious business. According to Bill McKenzie, a good, handmade violin will cost you £3,000-£4,000 (“for something reasonable”), while top-of-the-range classical musicians tend to seek out classic Italian instruments, for which you’re looking at about a quarter of a million pounds. “It’s like the old adage, ‘good tunes are better played on old fiddles’,” says McKenzie. “With age and playing, the violin comes alive.”

What we’re witnessing now at pop events such as Latitude, is not merely the violin coming alive, but a new generation of music fans coming alive to the sound of the violin: from the crowd throwing itself around to Arcade Fire’s dramatic string crescendos, to the hush that spread across the hundreds of people watching Andrew Bird.

Will our love for strings endure? Well, given that the average age of a pop musician is 25, and the average age of a concert violin is 150 years old, maybe it’s not violins that are the craze within pop – but pop that is the craze in the constantly evolving story of the violin.

Pop strung out through the ages

Unfinished Sympathy – Massive Attack: An erotic, epic, goosebump-making string crescendo.

Bittersweet Symphony – the Verve: When the Rolling Stones sued over a sample in this anthem, it was assumed to be the song’s string riff. Not so – that was composed by Richard Ashcroft.

Livin’ Thing – ELO: Gets wedding receptions miming to its violin trills.

Back To Life – Soul II Soul: A violin riff that made you feel so sophisticated that you could be dancing next to a wind-machine.

Andrew Bird’s album, Armchair Apocrypha, is out now on Fat Possum

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