Thursday, 15 August 2013

Close, but no cigar

Yesterday I was persuaded by the fan to accompany him to one of his favourite sessions, at the Nightingale. It's a bit of a way to go for a spot of music, but the music is very good, the natives are friendly and welcoming and the Guinness is decent. An all round very nice pub.

I played Tree, Galloway and Whaling, but was beset again by stage fright, making my hands shake, which means I miss, garble or mangle notes. Still, I managed to keep going to the end each time. I tried thinking about how nice everyone in the pub was, I tried thinking about the tunes, I tried thinking about my breathing, I tried listening intently to my pipes. This is a bad move: stage fright seems to affect my hearing and the drones sounded odd and the chanter reed squeaky, and I know they weren't because the fan would have said. The more I listened the more I heard wobbles caused by shaking hands, which made me feel worse.

I tried looking at the fan and I also tried some staring into the middle distance and closing my eyes in a Kathryn Tickell sort of way. I drank more Guinness. That seemed to help a bit. I'd like to say it got better with each tune, but it doesn't, because knowing I've got stage fright makes me nervous that I'll really make a hash of things.

I was assured that no-one but me spotted that I was a nervous wreck. Considering I can do public speaking without batting an eyelid - I've spoken off the cuff to a conference in the past - it's irritating, to say the least, to get so nervous about playing a few tunes with a few folk. Am hoping I'll grow out of it.

The Kathryn Tickell-ishness must have showed, as I was asked on the way out if I was playing "those Northumbrian small pipes".  Well, they're certainly small pipes...

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