"Murdo stopped at the end of his pacing and broke into the crunluath. His toe tapped rapidly on the ground. His fingers bounded off the notes so nimbly that they seemed to describe short ripples along the chanter. The virile, slotted notes flew about, throwing a mesh of sound over the hearers, a contracting net that caught and drew the throats and breasts. And left them strangely numb and vibrant when, at last, the music ceased."
The Albannach. Fionn Mac Colla.
I wonder what he meant by "slotted notes." This is the scene in which Murdo single-handedly resinstates the piping tradition among the men in the village, and thus revitalises the community. The strange thing is that this piobaireachd playing comes out of nowhere. Murdo isn't spoken of as a piper, apart from the playing of the feadan with the priest. It's as if the playing is innate, a core and hitherto undiscovered part of his Scottishness.
The mood of the passage I've quoted is immediately broken by Kenny's comment on Murdo's playing: "O, he'll learn!" Surely this is suposed to be taken as irony: a learner piper would hardly ensnare throats and breasts with his crunluath. Or perhaps it's sour grapes, for when the men first hear "the clear, lusty notes dropping out richly, forming a slow pattern against the wall of drones" someone suggests that the piper must be Kenny:
"'Thats's not Kenny,' says Murdo the Flea. 'Kenny never had that amount of skill in the fingers at him.'"
Ramblings of an easily distracted learner piper
Showing posts with label Piobaireachd. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Piobaireachd. Show all posts
Friday, 14 October 2016
Saturday, 1 October 2016
Iain Beag
"Iain Beag would always be out when it was a question of piping. He was one of the best of pipers himself and would stand there leaning his weight on his artificial leg and tapping time with his one own foot while he went through all the changing parts of a piobaireachd, and he plainly in his glory...He had left a leg in France."
The Albannach, Fionn Mac Colla
I like the understated manner in which the artifical leg is explained - the lack of sentimentality, the slight humour.
This is an interesting novel. There are familiar themes: the oppressive religious upbringing, the bright boy who goes away to be educated, a brush with vice and debauchery, the failure to break free. There is a little piping, a little of domestic life in a croft, a fair amount of evocative description of the land.
There is a good chunk of Gaelic in it, some explained, some not. Murdo is a sent a poem, which has quite an impact on him, so it's a shame to have no hint at all of what it means. Google translate is no help at all, telling me firmly that 'Gile na gile do chonnarc' is Indonesian and that, translated into English, it reads 'na gile gile do chonnarc'.
But, the misogyny! Other than motherly Mrs O'Callaghan, who provides bed and board and asks no questions, every last women is fat, ugly, stupid to the point of being little better than an animal, gives herself airs, or moans and complains. They make sexual advances to him. One - a prostitute in Glasgow - passes on a STD. At least, that's how I read it. It's part of the novel that is written in almost a dream state, Murdo being drunk throughout (it's all rather Bloom in Dublin at this point), and I supose there will always be a certain amount of reticence in a novel of that time (1932) on such matters. There are apparently no women students at Glasgow. Women revolt and oppress him. To be fair he's not overly complimentary about the men, either, but at least they have faces and personalities; the women are all breasts, backsides and blather. They seem to have little in the way of opportunities - they bear 14 children, are shouted at and ignored by drunken, or adulterous and righteous, husbands, nurse each other in illness and their only relief seems to be sixpenny novelettes. I wonder to what extent that reflected the real lives of women in rural Scotland in the first part of the last century.
The Albannach, Fionn Mac Colla
I like the understated manner in which the artifical leg is explained - the lack of sentimentality, the slight humour.
This is an interesting novel. There are familiar themes: the oppressive religious upbringing, the bright boy who goes away to be educated, a brush with vice and debauchery, the failure to break free. There is a little piping, a little of domestic life in a croft, a fair amount of evocative description of the land.
There is a good chunk of Gaelic in it, some explained, some not. Murdo is a sent a poem, which has quite an impact on him, so it's a shame to have no hint at all of what it means. Google translate is no help at all, telling me firmly that 'Gile na gile do chonnarc' is Indonesian and that, translated into English, it reads 'na gile gile do chonnarc'.
But, the misogyny! Other than motherly Mrs O'Callaghan, who provides bed and board and asks no questions, every last women is fat, ugly, stupid to the point of being little better than an animal, gives herself airs, or moans and complains. They make sexual advances to him. One - a prostitute in Glasgow - passes on a STD. At least, that's how I read it. It's part of the novel that is written in almost a dream state, Murdo being drunk throughout (it's all rather Bloom in Dublin at this point), and I supose there will always be a certain amount of reticence in a novel of that time (1932) on such matters. There are apparently no women students at Glasgow. Women revolt and oppress him. To be fair he's not overly complimentary about the men, either, but at least they have faces and personalities; the women are all breasts, backsides and blather. They seem to have little in the way of opportunities - they bear 14 children, are shouted at and ignored by drunken, or adulterous and righteous, husbands, nurse each other in illness and their only relief seems to be sixpenny novelettes. I wonder to what extent that reflected the real lives of women in rural Scotland in the first part of the last century.
Monday, 26 September 2016
The first cause
"The First Cause or Unmoved First Mover - we must forget the infinitely subjective and question-begging term 'God', and for a thousand years! - the Ground of all Being or Creative Absolute - as some moderns are calling it, the Ultimate Reference - is in piobaireachd, as it never was in Calvinist theory..."
Fionn Mac Colla (aka Thomas MacDonald), introduction to The Albannach.
Fionn Mac Colla (aka Thomas MacDonald), introduction to The Albannach.
Wednesday, 17 February 2016
Too much information
I listen to lots of CDs. Various tunes sound familiar, but where do I know them from? I know at least Jackie Coleman's from Skipinnish's Irish set, but does the fan play it, or it it a Sea Stallions tune? Siuthadaibh, bhalacha sounds as though it might be on one of Mr MacInnes's CDs, but not by that name. Mr Gillies mentions the Currie brothers ("one of the most notable piping families in Cape Breton of tbe 1930s and '40s"), and these are surely related to the Currie Cousins who give the name to a set on Piob is Fidheall. Then there is Michael Grey, whose name is familiar, although I am sure I've not come across John MacLean, and perhaps I even know the name out of a piping context. (But, no, it's this MG I have come across recently in relation to a pipe tune - but which?)
I get as far as The Earl of Seaforth's Salute, at which point everything else ceases to matter: like Bach cello suites it draws you in, binds you down, forces you to concentrate, causes you not to exist beyond a heart that hears the music. Where have all these tunes come from? Where do I know then from? I don't care. As long at this pibroch plays I don't care about anything much at all, just the music.
I get as far as The Earl of Seaforth's Salute, at which point everything else ceases to matter: like Bach cello suites it draws you in, binds you down, forces you to concentrate, causes you not to exist beyond a heart that hears the music. Where have all these tunes come from? Where do I know then from? I don't care. As long at this pibroch plays I don't care about anything much at all, just the music.
Monday, 8 June 2015
Learning from Allan
Although it is frowned upon in folk circles, I think on the grounds that it is not traditional, and can only give the general impression of a tune, I am pretty much wedded to learning tunes from dots. For those of us without regular first hand access to other musicians the only way to come across new repetoire is recordings, and for those of us who struggle to pick out tunes by ear, dots are a godsend. Dots enable me to play a whole range of tunes that actually I've never heard anyone else play. Dots also keep alive tunes that aren't much played. As long the dots exist an unplayed tune is never dead, only sleeping.
I do find that dots are, of course, very useful for telling you which notes to play and in which order. What I don't find they help with so much is timing. I know they do tell you timing, but for some reason this is something I find difficult to read from dots. As to the feel of a tune, the way it is played, the way it sounds, well, I've found that there are as many ways to play a tune as there are people to play it, so I tend not to worry about that. Eventually a tune will decide whether it wants me to play it fast or slow, with a lilt or a swagger.
One thing I really haven't touched as yet is pibroch. The dots aren't that hard to come by, but in lipin g mythology pibroch is handed down between pipers through canntaireachd. It has itself has a glamour and a mystery to it, somehow, that prevents a casual approach, perhaps like opera. Most people would be happy to warble along to a pop classic come karaoke night at the local, but except for those few tunes that have crossed to the pop side of the floor (Nessun dorma) I expect few people would have a go at a piece of opera. Clearly there is a whole argument here about popular vs elite culture and so on, but in itself opera is considered to be difficult, a voice needs to be trained to attempt it.
So I've steered clear of pibroch. Then when we were looking, the fan and I, at some hypothetical sets for the hypothetical gig, he wanted to know if I hadn't got a slow air to kick a set off with. No, I said, I did not have a slow air. I don't play Irish pipes, these are Scottish pipes and there are reels, jigs, strathspeys, slow marches, quick steps and laments but no slow airs. But after a while it occurred to me that the Scottish piping equivalent of a slow air is pibroch. The one that came to mind was Lament for the Children. Julie has a song that uses it, and Allan MacDonald on the Seudan CD has it as the tune for the dark haired man.
I found the dots easily enough. I wanted to stick to the urlar, or ground - no doublings and variations for me! I tried it out on my chanter. I played it slow: too slow, as it turned out. I coudn't make head nor tale of it. Then I thought of Allan, and then I started to hear him in my head. Not the words, but the rhythm, the shape of the tune.
Fhir a' chinn duibh, thug mi gaol dhuit
Fhir a' chinn duibh, thug mi gradh dhuit
Thug mi gaol 's thug mi gradh dhuit
Thug mi gaol nach d' thug mi chach dhuit
Fir a' chin duibh thug mi gradh duit
It's not quite the same tune, according to the sleeve notes, but it's close enough for me to learn from, to learn as if I were learning pibroch through cannterairachd, learning from Allan.
I do find that dots are, of course, very useful for telling you which notes to play and in which order. What I don't find they help with so much is timing. I know they do tell you timing, but for some reason this is something I find difficult to read from dots. As to the feel of a tune, the way it is played, the way it sounds, well, I've found that there are as many ways to play a tune as there are people to play it, so I tend not to worry about that. Eventually a tune will decide whether it wants me to play it fast or slow, with a lilt or a swagger.
One thing I really haven't touched as yet is pibroch. The dots aren't that hard to come by, but in lipin g mythology pibroch is handed down between pipers through canntaireachd. It has itself has a glamour and a mystery to it, somehow, that prevents a casual approach, perhaps like opera. Most people would be happy to warble along to a pop classic come karaoke night at the local, but except for those few tunes that have crossed to the pop side of the floor (Nessun dorma) I expect few people would have a go at a piece of opera. Clearly there is a whole argument here about popular vs elite culture and so on, but in itself opera is considered to be difficult, a voice needs to be trained to attempt it.
So I've steered clear of pibroch. Then when we were looking, the fan and I, at some hypothetical sets for the hypothetical gig, he wanted to know if I hadn't got a slow air to kick a set off with. No, I said, I did not have a slow air. I don't play Irish pipes, these are Scottish pipes and there are reels, jigs, strathspeys, slow marches, quick steps and laments but no slow airs. But after a while it occurred to me that the Scottish piping equivalent of a slow air is pibroch. The one that came to mind was Lament for the Children. Julie has a song that uses it, and Allan MacDonald on the Seudan CD has it as the tune for the dark haired man.
I found the dots easily enough. I wanted to stick to the urlar, or ground - no doublings and variations for me! I tried it out on my chanter. I played it slow: too slow, as it turned out. I coudn't make head nor tale of it. Then I thought of Allan, and then I started to hear him in my head. Not the words, but the rhythm, the shape of the tune.
Fhir a' chinn duibh, thug mi gaol dhuit
Fhir a' chinn duibh, thug mi gradh dhuit
Thug mi gaol 's thug mi gradh dhuit
Thug mi gaol nach d' thug mi chach dhuit
Fir a' chin duibh thug mi gradh duit
It's not quite the same tune, according to the sleeve notes, but it's close enough for me to learn from, to learn as if I were learning pibroch through cannterairachd, learning from Allan.
Tuesday, 3 March 2015
Compliments to Duncan Chisholm
Yesterday the fan and I went to see Duncan Chisholm. Duncan brought a couple of his pals along. One was Jarlath Henderson (although the person behind me confidently told *his* pals that it was Ross Henderson...) The other was Matheu Watson. I'm not one to get excited about guitarists, but Matheu is a thoughtful accompanist. I know his work from James Duncan Mackenzie's CD. I nearly saw him once before as he was due to be at our local folk club with Emma Sweeney but he'd gone down with a bug and wasn't able to be there.
It was good to have another chance to see Jarlath in acton. He's a lovely piper. Sadly we heard less from him than the others. Some sets he sat out, some he only had a bar or two on whistle. It can't be easy sitting still under hot stage lights, listening for your cue for two bars, and it wasn't surprising when he started to yawn. Still, I think the evening would have been the less without his presence.
The Strathglass trilogy - and I think all of the music came from that - isn't really live gig, foot-tapping stuff (many of the rhythms are so complex that it feels next to impossible to tap along). It's thoughtful, quiet and dreamy music. Still, it was good to be able to see Duncan play. I think you understand someone's music differently when you've not just heard them but seen them too. Hearing tunes from all three albums in a different order from usual made me hear some of them afresh. Duncan also told some of the stories behind the tunes, and it was good to hear those as the sleeve notes on the albums are skimpy.
At the interval I screwed up my courage and went to speak to Duncan, who was, as is the way in our folk club, selling his CDs at a small table. I explained that I wasn't buying as I already own the set...but could I ask a question? He had talked about his sense of belonging to a place where his ancestors had lived for 800 years, about tbe trilogy expresing that place, about the Scottishness of it...and yet he had Irish pipes. Why? He said that it is very much because he loves the sound of Irish pipes, and also in part to do with the greater range of the instrument. I did suggest that Allan MacDonald, a set of small pipes and a wee smidgen of pibroch might have been a not unattractive addition to the trilogy...and he said yes, but he really did like Irish pipes. We shook hands and I left him selling CDs.
So now I know. In some ways I can't blame him. Irish pipes are lovely, and who wouldn't want an excuse to play music with Jarlath? But it seems very strange to me to use an instrument from another country to evoke your own country. I enjoyed the evening out, hearing the music, and speaking to Duncan, who did seem to be a really nice chap. I will be listening to the triology again soon. But as I listen and dream of Scotland I will cherish that vision of Duncan's fiddle lifting up its voice with Allan MacDonald's smallpipes in a reimagining of pibroch to recreate the heart and soul of the Scottish landscape.
It was good to have another chance to see Jarlath in acton. He's a lovely piper. Sadly we heard less from him than the others. Some sets he sat out, some he only had a bar or two on whistle. It can't be easy sitting still under hot stage lights, listening for your cue for two bars, and it wasn't surprising when he started to yawn. Still, I think the evening would have been the less without his presence.
The Strathglass trilogy - and I think all of the music came from that - isn't really live gig, foot-tapping stuff (many of the rhythms are so complex that it feels next to impossible to tap along). It's thoughtful, quiet and dreamy music. Still, it was good to be able to see Duncan play. I think you understand someone's music differently when you've not just heard them but seen them too. Hearing tunes from all three albums in a different order from usual made me hear some of them afresh. Duncan also told some of the stories behind the tunes, and it was good to hear those as the sleeve notes on the albums are skimpy.
At the interval I screwed up my courage and went to speak to Duncan, who was, as is the way in our folk club, selling his CDs at a small table. I explained that I wasn't buying as I already own the set...but could I ask a question? He had talked about his sense of belonging to a place where his ancestors had lived for 800 years, about tbe trilogy expresing that place, about the Scottishness of it...and yet he had Irish pipes. Why? He said that it is very much because he loves the sound of Irish pipes, and also in part to do with the greater range of the instrument. I did suggest that Allan MacDonald, a set of small pipes and a wee smidgen of pibroch might have been a not unattractive addition to the trilogy...and he said yes, but he really did like Irish pipes. We shook hands and I left him selling CDs.
So now I know. In some ways I can't blame him. Irish pipes are lovely, and who wouldn't want an excuse to play music with Jarlath? But it seems very strange to me to use an instrument from another country to evoke your own country. I enjoyed the evening out, hearing the music, and speaking to Duncan, who did seem to be a really nice chap. I will be listening to the triology again soon. But as I listen and dream of Scotland I will cherish that vision of Duncan's fiddle lifting up its voice with Allan MacDonald's smallpipes in a reimagining of pibroch to recreate the heart and soul of the Scottish landscape.
Wednesday, 20 February 2013
Still haven't found what I'm looking for
I decided to just go through Coel Sean and try random tunes today, but that isn't easy. When it comes to sheet music one unknown pipe tune looks pretty much like another. I need to listen to more pipe music. Flipping about the internet yesterday evening I came across David Barnes. I can't find out much about him, but have ordered his CD from Coda. I hadn't realised they had a website. It's one of the fan's favourite haunts in Edinburgh (it's a nice shop, but my favourite is the other end of the mile.)
Hopefully Mr Barnes will introduce me to some new tunes. I tried listening to some on YouTube, but some of the recordings really weren't helpful, one way and another. While I was looking for versions of the Blue Bonnets (which I rather like) I came across a pipe and drum flashmob in California and was reminded what very good tunes the Green Hills of Tyrol and The Battle's O'er are. Both old chanter favourites, but not tunes I've really played on the pipes.
I also looked at this site and found a tune called In Praise of Morag - also known as Marian's Wailing apparently. Sadly it turns out to be piobaireachd, so not at all what I was looking for.
Anyway, I'm going to give the Blue Bonnets a whirl, maybe also the Black Bear and certainly Dick Gossip's, which is a tune I already know from the band. Will they make it to my playlist? Who knows...
Hopefully Mr Barnes will introduce me to some new tunes. I tried listening to some on YouTube, but some of the recordings really weren't helpful, one way and another. While I was looking for versions of the Blue Bonnets (which I rather like) I came across a pipe and drum flashmob in California and was reminded what very good tunes the Green Hills of Tyrol and The Battle's O'er are. Both old chanter favourites, but not tunes I've really played on the pipes.
I also looked at this site and found a tune called In Praise of Morag - also known as Marian's Wailing apparently. Sadly it turns out to be piobaireachd, so not at all what I was looking for.
Anyway, I'm going to give the Blue Bonnets a whirl, maybe also the Black Bear and certainly Dick Gossip's, which is a tune I already know from the band. Will they make it to my playlist? Who knows...
Thursday, 3 January 2013
Missed Opportunity
Some years ago I spent some time in Aberdeen. I hadn’t particularly chosen to go there, I didn’t enjoy it at all, and I left as soon as I could. Considering my recent enthusiasm for all things Scottish (knitting as well as the music, and I’ve always been fond of the national drink) that year now feels like a wasted opportunity.
I don’t recall coming across any piping, but I do know that asked for, and was refused, the opportunity to learn Gaelic. I was told that it would be no use to me. I’m not keen on the idea that learning of any kind should have a direct practical application in order for it to have value, and it’s particularly galling considering that the linguistics I studied instead turned out to have no bearing on my life or any of my interests either then or now. It’s not even the kind of thing that occasionally helps with the answers to clues in general knowledge crosswords.
I don’t recall coming across any piping, but I do know that asked for, and was refused, the opportunity to learn Gaelic. I was told that it would be no use to me. I’m not keen on the idea that learning of any kind should have a direct practical application in order for it to have value, and it’s particularly galling considering that the linguistics I studied instead turned out to have no bearing on my life or any of my interests either then or now. It’s not even the kind of thing that occasionally helps with the answers to clues in general knowledge crosswords.
But I do wish I had learned Gaelic. It would have tied in with my (now mostly lapsed) interest in folklore and folk tales, and it would certainly tie in with the traditional music, especially in its links to pibroch, which is something I’d definitely like to learn more about. Mind you, if I start reading up on piping and Gaelic song (and all the other aspects of Scottish culture that interest me) I'd have even less time for piping...
Friday, 30 November 2012
Finding a Voice
First posted Feb 13th, 2012 by newpiper
Yesterday I went out with my fan to see Breabach: a great band, a good night out and some serious piping inspiration. I had a small wobble, listening to GHB, wondering whether I had really done the right thing in moving to smallpipes. Smallpipes, it seems to me, have more scope for interpretation. There are many pipers I admire and I know that I don’t want to play in quite the way they do. What I want to do is find my own voice, my own style, and that's not something that's going to happen in a competition pipe band. I am not sure how to develop my own style, but at the moment it's about listening a lot and playing as much as I can, picking tunes I really enjoy and want to listen to and play.
One style of music that really attracts me is pibroch. Breabach play three pieces: The Waterhorse’s Lament, The Desperate Battle of the Birds, and Park Piobaireachd. Playing the Birds last night they had us singing canntaireachd (in this and the step dancing I see the influence of Mr MacCrimmon’s time with Seudan). I’d like to learn about this – its history and how to use it.
Pibroch dots seem hard to come by online. The tunes tend to sound very simple, but like pieces of Bach they circle about, never quite revisiting the same notes in the same way. I love that formalism and intricacy. I also love slow tunes, but it takes a good steady pressure to get the notes to sing. This isn’t music for beginners, but surely something I can aspire to.
The tune I've recorded today is another of Vicki's (she kindly puts all her dots on her website). It's a pibroch-style tune called The Lone Piper. I had no issues with pegs or connector tube today. I got a good strong sound, but I am still relying too much on my pumping arm. My fan says that knowing what I am doing wrong is half the battle, but I just get frustrated that I do something that I know to be wrong, and which I don’t think I used to do. I've tried to concentrate on shifting across to my bag arm, and, judging by how sore it feels now, I must have had some success.
I've tried two different methods with recording today. The first is to wait until I play something really very badly indeed, and then hit record on the grounds that things can only get better. You'll be pleased to know this is not the one I'm posting. The other method I've stumbled on is to quit while I'm ahead. This means I've recorded the first part of the tune only, and I've just played it the once through.
Recording: The Lone Piper.
The Lone Piper on Chirbit
Yesterday I went out with my fan to see Breabach: a great band, a good night out and some serious piping inspiration. I had a small wobble, listening to GHB, wondering whether I had really done the right thing in moving to smallpipes. Smallpipes, it seems to me, have more scope for interpretation. There are many pipers I admire and I know that I don’t want to play in quite the way they do. What I want to do is find my own voice, my own style, and that's not something that's going to happen in a competition pipe band. I am not sure how to develop my own style, but at the moment it's about listening a lot and playing as much as I can, picking tunes I really enjoy and want to listen to and play.
One style of music that really attracts me is pibroch. Breabach play three pieces: The Waterhorse’s Lament, The Desperate Battle of the Birds, and Park Piobaireachd. Playing the Birds last night they had us singing canntaireachd (in this and the step dancing I see the influence of Mr MacCrimmon’s time with Seudan). I’d like to learn about this – its history and how to use it.
Pibroch dots seem hard to come by online. The tunes tend to sound very simple, but like pieces of Bach they circle about, never quite revisiting the same notes in the same way. I love that formalism and intricacy. I also love slow tunes, but it takes a good steady pressure to get the notes to sing. This isn’t music for beginners, but surely something I can aspire to.
The tune I've recorded today is another of Vicki's (she kindly puts all her dots on her website). It's a pibroch-style tune called The Lone Piper. I had no issues with pegs or connector tube today. I got a good strong sound, but I am still relying too much on my pumping arm. My fan says that knowing what I am doing wrong is half the battle, but I just get frustrated that I do something that I know to be wrong, and which I don’t think I used to do. I've tried to concentrate on shifting across to my bag arm, and, judging by how sore it feels now, I must have had some success.
I've tried two different methods with recording today. The first is to wait until I play something really very badly indeed, and then hit record on the grounds that things can only get better. You'll be pleased to know this is not the one I'm posting. The other method I've stumbled on is to quit while I'm ahead. This means I've recorded the first part of the tune only, and I've just played it the once through.
Recording: The Lone Piper.
The Lone Piper on Chirbit
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