I've had a tune in my head on and off these last few days and this afternoon I worked out that it is Saw Ye Never A Bonnie Lass from Reclaimed. The CD has the piper, Martyn Bennett, introduce the tune. I can't remember his exact words, but the general gist is that the tune is what the fan would call a bit of a pig, which is a tad offputting. Still, I would like to play it, and the dots are out there in The Master Piper. It's on my list of books I'd like.
I haven't (yet) rushed out to buy it, partly because I'm aware that I've yet to touch the book of quicksteps purchased recently. I've also got my eye on Freeland Barbour's The Music and the Land. And John Maclellan's collected works. Oh, and John MacColl's tunes. And Roddy MacDonald's. (Last Tango in Harris! Good Drying!)
And that's just the tune books. I've got a gap in my Deaf Shepherd collection. Anna and Mairearad have got a new CD out. I don't have the latest Battlefield Band offering, I'm missing a Kevin MacLeod CD, and I would love to track down something that had a very good review in The Living Tradition. I missed Blazin' Fiddles when they were in this neck of the woods and am tempted to indulge in a CD from them to compensate.
It's a while since I mentioned it, but I'm short of hours in the day. I did find time to play today though, and once I found a couple of parts of Vittoria and Perth that had gone awol everything went well.
Ramblings of an easily distracted learner piper
Showing posts with label bands. Show all posts
Showing posts with label bands. Show all posts
Saturday, 19 March 2016
Saturday, 23 January 2016
Five things that go well with pipes
I've mentioned those things I feel add nothing to pipes, so it seems right to mention those things that do actually add something to pipes. I've used "five things" rather loosely here...to be perfectly honestly this is more of a list of four and one of those isn't really an item...
More pipes. No better than example than Ross and Jarlath, but I always love it at our sessions when the (Irish) piper plays along with me, mainly on My Home Town.
Fiddles. See, for example, The Waterhorse's Lament on The Desperate Battle of the Birds, but anything by Braebach, or the Mackenzie brothers, will illustrate my point.
Harpsichord. Not the obvious choice, perhaps, but it works astonishingly well. Hats off to Mr MacInnes for dreaming this one up.
Nothing. Much as I like these pairings there is really nothing to beat solo pipes, be that smallpipes or GHB. Many of Mr MacInnes's tracks on both his solo albums give you lone pipes, but for a full CD of unadulterated piping pleasure you need the Grand Concert of Scottish Piping or Alasdair Gillies' Lochbroom. Mr Gillies plays in a very measured style that brings out the forms of the tunes, so you can somehow hear the patterns very clearly. There is something rather zen, I find, listening to it. like Bach cello suites, they are, all different and yet somehow all the same, so that you can listen intently and nothing in the music or the playing of it distracts (except that Mr G is one of the perpetrators of the pointless twiddling at the end of tune....)
More pipes. No better than example than Ross and Jarlath, but I always love it at our sessions when the (Irish) piper plays along with me, mainly on My Home Town.
Fiddles. See, for example, The Waterhorse's Lament on The Desperate Battle of the Birds, but anything by Braebach, or the Mackenzie brothers, will illustrate my point.
Harpsichord. Not the obvious choice, perhaps, but it works astonishingly well. Hats off to Mr MacInnes for dreaming this one up.
Nothing. Much as I like these pairings there is really nothing to beat solo pipes, be that smallpipes or GHB. Many of Mr MacInnes's tracks on both his solo albums give you lone pipes, but for a full CD of unadulterated piping pleasure you need the Grand Concert of Scottish Piping or Alasdair Gillies' Lochbroom. Mr Gillies plays in a very measured style that brings out the forms of the tunes, so you can somehow hear the patterns very clearly. There is something rather zen, I find, listening to it. like Bach cello suites, they are, all different and yet somehow all the same, so that you can listen intently and nothing in the music or the playing of it distracts (except that Mr G is one of the perpetrators of the pointless twiddling at the end of tune....)
Thursday, 10 December 2015
Six degrees of separation
Monday, 1 June 2015
Julie
Friday before last the fan and I scooted up to London for a gig. Traffic being what it is it took us two hours to get there, which meant we had to abandon all hope of having anything to eat, and threw ourselves into the foyer of the Sam Wanamaker Playhouse just as doors opened.
The venue itself is a sight to behold. Smelling of new wood - it involves a lot of wood- with a painted ceiling and backdrop and lit by candles, it looks like a stage set itself. It feels very small and compact with the pit sitting (on benches) at the feet of the performers, and the stalls hanging over the stage, and the circle just above.
I imagine an original theatre of this age would be full of cat-calls, heckling, audience pariticpation, small children, old folk, animals, food, drink and life in general. This modern incarnation is rather more sedate and furnished with officious, verging on rude, staff, who insist that any edibles are in a bag, coats are not draped over the sides, cameras are not used. The ban on cameras seems particularly iodiotic in such an unusual and interesting venue, and surely it could do no harm to allow pictures before and after the performances.
The performance itself was Julie Fowlis, Eamon Doorley, Duncan Chisholm, Tony Byrne and a double bass player,who didn't seem to be comfortable with the evening. He spent time looking at his right hand on the neck of his instrument as if he wasn't sure where the notes were, and fiddled with various sheets of music on a stand...
I do like Julie's voice, although I have to say the thought of an entire evening of it wasn't my idea of a good evening out. I haven't listened much to the CDs of hers that the fan has, but they seem to me to be overly polished and perhaps a little insipid as a result of that.
As a live act I have to say she's well worth seeing. She does a good line in chat to the audience. Some of the ballads were beautiful, especially where she accompanied herself on harmonium. There were some lively instrumental sets and some mixed sets, with Julie flipping between whistles and voice. She got some audience participation for Smeorach Chlann Domhnaill and declared that we sounded like the London Gaelic Choir. There were some gaelic speakers in the (very appreciative) audience, which must have helped.
Eamon cracked a joke or two, Julie signed CDs afterwards, and all in all it was a good evening. Improvments? It would have been good to have heard Julie's pipes, and I still wish we'd managed to have time for dinner...
The venue itself is a sight to behold. Smelling of new wood - it involves a lot of wood- with a painted ceiling and backdrop and lit by candles, it looks like a stage set itself. It feels very small and compact with the pit sitting (on benches) at the feet of the performers, and the stalls hanging over the stage, and the circle just above.
I imagine an original theatre of this age would be full of cat-calls, heckling, audience pariticpation, small children, old folk, animals, food, drink and life in general. This modern incarnation is rather more sedate and furnished with officious, verging on rude, staff, who insist that any edibles are in a bag, coats are not draped over the sides, cameras are not used. The ban on cameras seems particularly iodiotic in such an unusual and interesting venue, and surely it could do no harm to allow pictures before and after the performances.
The performance itself was Julie Fowlis, Eamon Doorley, Duncan Chisholm, Tony Byrne and a double bass player,who didn't seem to be comfortable with the evening. He spent time looking at his right hand on the neck of his instrument as if he wasn't sure where the notes were, and fiddled with various sheets of music on a stand...
I do like Julie's voice, although I have to say the thought of an entire evening of it wasn't my idea of a good evening out. I haven't listened much to the CDs of hers that the fan has, but they seem to me to be overly polished and perhaps a little insipid as a result of that.
As a live act I have to say she's well worth seeing. She does a good line in chat to the audience. Some of the ballads were beautiful, especially where she accompanied herself on harmonium. There were some lively instrumental sets and some mixed sets, with Julie flipping between whistles and voice. She got some audience participation for Smeorach Chlann Domhnaill and declared that we sounded like the London Gaelic Choir. There were some gaelic speakers in the (very appreciative) audience, which must have helped.
Eamon cracked a joke or two, Julie signed CDs afterwards, and all in all it was a good evening. Improvments? It would have been good to have heard Julie's pipes, and I still wish we'd managed to have time for dinner...
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.
Friday, 23 January 2015
Five things - more Mr Macinnes
Five CDs that feature not enough of Iain MacInnes.
I realise I run the risk of sounding a bit obsessive and stalkerish here, but heaven knows there are few enough CDs out there featuring smallpipes, and even fewer featuring Iain, who is my smallpiping hero because I love everything he does. Although he has only given us a miniscule number of CDs of his own he has appeared elsewhere over the years. If you want to hear more of MacInnes, and who wouldn't, these are the CDs you need to get hold of.
I realise I run the risk of sounding a bit obsessive and stalkerish here, but heaven knows there are few enough CDs out there featuring smallpipes, and even fewer featuring Iain, who is my smallpiping hero because I love everything he does. Although he has only given us a miniscule number of CDs of his own he has appeared elsewhere over the years. If you want to hear more of MacInnes, and who wouldn't, these are the CDs you need to get hold of.
1. Shore Street, Billy Ross. A CD showcasing Billy and a good range of Scottish songs, on which he is joined from the old crowd from Smalltalk and Ossian, among others. Iain is credited on the first track (The Heiland Sodger). He is most certainly also on track 3 (Fiollaigean) but oddly uncredited... The pipes are right at the end of the song: blink and you'll miss them. The CD is well worth listening to. Billy has a soft and clear voice and there are interesting notes on each song and the Appalachian version of Matty Groves is worth the price of the CD alone. You'll never think of Matty Groves in the same way again.
2. Canterach. The band and the CD share a name. Now really and truly this is no less an Iain MacInnes CD than Smalltalk or The Carrying Stream. He appears on 9 of 11 tracks on whistle, GHB and Scottish small pipes. Somehow it's not one of my favourites: it's the keyboards, electric guitar and various bits of percussion and other such embellishments I could live without. It's Iain's playing,but not his usual style in terms of choice of tunes, instruments or arrangements.
3. Grand Concert of Scottish Piping. Two tracks and 10 tunes featuring Iain on small pipes. The rest of the CD isn't bad either. Two more small pipe tracks (Martyn Bennett), one lot of border pipes, and as a bonus, Allan MacDonald.
4. and 5. Tannahill Weavers, Cullen Bay and Land of Light. I've got both these albums and if it wasn't for the pipe sets I'd probably never listen to them. As it is I skip a lot of tracks. Lots of songs that don't sound trad, but apparently are, lots of strummy guitar. The pipe sets are good and include Ian playing stuff you don't hear him doing anywhere else: a Gordan Duncan tune, for instance. The smallpipes make a few brief contributions, in the main Iain is on GHB.
I saw the Tannies, years ago, in Colchester. It was before I discovered pipes, although I already loved them. The Tannies were just one of the fan's old favourite folk bands then, and I think he enticed me along with the promise of pipes. I remember I'd not long learned to knit fair isle holding the two colours one in each hand and I spent much of the evening contemplating fair isle patterns I might knit, and remember very little of the concert itself. Thank heaven Iain had left them, otherwise think how I'd be kicking myself now.
3. Grand Concert of Scottish Piping. Two tracks and 10 tunes featuring Iain on small pipes. The rest of the CD isn't bad either. Two more small pipe tracks (Martyn Bennett), one lot of border pipes, and as a bonus, Allan MacDonald.
4. and 5. Tannahill Weavers, Cullen Bay and Land of Light. I've got both these albums and if it wasn't for the pipe sets I'd probably never listen to them. As it is I skip a lot of tracks. Lots of songs that don't sound trad, but apparently are, lots of strummy guitar. The pipe sets are good and include Ian playing stuff you don't hear him doing anywhere else: a Gordan Duncan tune, for instance. The smallpipes make a few brief contributions, in the main Iain is on GHB.
I saw the Tannies, years ago, in Colchester. It was before I discovered pipes, although I already loved them. The Tannies were just one of the fan's old favourite folk bands then, and I think he enticed me along with the promise of pipes. I remember I'd not long learned to knit fair isle holding the two colours one in each hand and I spent much of the evening contemplating fair isle patterns I might knit, and remember very little of the concert itself. Thank heaven Iain had left them, otherwise think how I'd be kicking myself now.
Friday, 28 November 2014
Five things - GHB folk bands
Everyone knows GHB. Normally just known as “bagpipes” or “pipes” they are a clear part of Scotland’s international brand, along with haggis, whisky, heather, golf at St Andrews and the Glorious Twelfth . The pipes are always played by a man in a kilt. This man, and it is always a man, is either a “lone piper” or else he’s with a band, marching. Whatever he’s playing, be it a loch-side lament or a rousing march, it will be loud. Pipes are so loud that they aren’t a natural choice for playing in bands alongside other instruments. They also play in an odd key. I suppose that was a driving factor behind the smallpipe revival. Despite their volume there are, and continue to be, folk bands that use GHB as a regular part of their line-up.
The Battlefield Band. This band has been going since 1969 and like grandfather's axe contains none of its original parts. I am not even sure if the line up has always included a piper, but several pipers have passed through during the course of 30 albums. The albums I have (Ok - so they belong to the fan) generally stick to trad pipe stuff. The current piper, Mike Katz, has a ZZ Top beard, which must once have been wacky but nowadays makes him look like a hipster. He also plays smallpipes, made by the Monkey's maker.
The Tannahill Weavers describe themselves rather immodestly on their website as "Scotland's Finest Traditional Band". A year older than the Battlefield they released their first album in 1976. They once had a certain Mr MacInnes in their line up. I've seen them live once and I (Ok, Ok - the fan) have one of their CDs.
Deaf Shepherd. Fabulous name for a great band. Once described as one of the most popular bands in Scotland they appear to have vanished leaving only three albums to show they were ever here. Fiddle and songs as well as pipes and I particularly enjoy their rendition of The Corncrake.
Braebach. Not only pipes, but two sets of pipes! The current line up pairs Calum MacCrimmon (who can be heard on the Seudan CD) with James Duncan MacKenzie, who can also be heard on his eponymous CD. They have old pipe tunes, new pipe tunes, some great interpretations of pibroch, prove that the fiddle and the pipes are a match made in heaven, and also throw in some songs of various sorts. Sometimes the pipes are full on, sometimes they are set in the mix with other things, sometimes just passing through a track, but always wonderful.
Ossian. Now, I love Ossian. They are - or were - one of the best Scottish folk bands ever. I love their choice of tunes, their settings, their arrangements. If I could only hear five CDs ever again there would definitely be an Ossian CD (or maybe two or three) on the list. But I don't think of them as being a band with pipes. There are the later CDs where they have the good sense to enlist Mr MacInnes. Before that there was a flirtation with Irish pipes. I do love Irish pipes, but they were not created for playing GHB tunes. When Braebach come out on to stage it's with, as it were, all pipes blazing. They are out and proud as pipers. Ossian are somehow embarrassed, reticent, bashful: their pipes are right down in the mix. You're never going to be blown out of of your seat by full on pipes from Ossian.
You can find GHB on Light on a Distant Shore (my least favourite Ossian CD), Dove Across the Water (my other least favourite...) and on Borders.
Ossian. Now, I love Ossian. They are - or were - one of the best Scottish folk bands ever. I love their choice of tunes, their settings, their arrangements. If I could only hear five CDs ever again there would definitely be an Ossian CD (or maybe two or three) on the list. But I don't think of them as being a band with pipes. There are the later CDs where they have the good sense to enlist Mr MacInnes. Before that there was a flirtation with Irish pipes. I do love Irish pipes, but they were not created for playing GHB tunes. When Braebach come out on to stage it's with, as it were, all pipes blazing. They are out and proud as pipers. Ossian are somehow embarrassed, reticent, bashful: their pipes are right down in the mix. You're never going to be blown out of of your seat by full on pipes from Ossian.
You can find GHB on Light on a Distant Shore (my least favourite Ossian CD), Dove Across the Water (my other least favourite...) and on Borders.
Friday, 17 October 2014
Americana
Monday we dragged ourselves out to see a couple of pipers: Ross Ainslie and Jarlath Henderson, and boy, was it worth the effort. There were some whistles, of course, and some whistles and pipes, but also lots and lots of full on pipes: Irish and Border, one harmonizing around the other, or playing together. There were some Irish tunes that I was surprised to find were playable on Border pipes. Some of it was at a serious speed, and positively rock 'n roll, so it was no surprise to find that Ross was taught by Gordon Duncan.
Some of the songs were...not your usual folk style, let's say. The fan hissed "Gerry Rafferty" in my ear at one stage. Turns out one of the tracks on the album we bought was by him. I really only know Baker Street, and had always - wrongly, it seems - assumed he was American. There's a bluesy feel to that track, I suppose. Ross, with floppy hair and moustache and skimpy army issue shirt looked like a refugee from an early episode of M*A*S*H. So, for me, there was a general transatlantic feel.
But it was great - really invigorating and inspiring. I wish I could say that I came home and fell on my pipes, but the usual problems means I only picked them up this evening and creaked rustily along for a while until my arms started to ache. This really can't go on.
Some of the songs were...not your usual folk style, let's say. The fan hissed "Gerry Rafferty" in my ear at one stage. Turns out one of the tracks on the album we bought was by him. I really only know Baker Street, and had always - wrongly, it seems - assumed he was American. There's a bluesy feel to that track, I suppose. Ross, with floppy hair and moustache and skimpy army issue shirt looked like a refugee from an early episode of M*A*S*H. So, for me, there was a general transatlantic feel.
But it was great - really invigorating and inspiring. I wish I could say that I came home and fell on my pipes, but the usual problems means I only picked them up this evening and creaked rustily along for a while until my arms started to ache. This really can't go on.
Tuesday, 9 September 2014
House session the sequel
Is it a house session when you play at home with your other half? While there is a lull in band practice the fan and I thought we'd play a few tunes together. We slung together Magersfontein with Flett. The fan is keen to have the Irishman's Cudgel to end, but it's really not in a fit state to be seen out. Work needed. Then Dargai and Bee, which I already play together, but could I not play faster, he asked. Possibly. Work needed.
The fan insisted I play with drones. I should do this more: I am out of practice (let's not even think about the A chanter at this point). Between drones and the fan pulling out his amp I had half an ear in case our occasional neighbour should hoof it don the stairs to complain about the noise.
The ostensible purpose of this is to allow the fan to work up some basic accompaniment for session, but he keeps thinking about opening bits he could play, then I could follow in. In a session, says I, sceptical. He mentions friends we might play to. Of course. But I rather think the fan is planning a wildly optimistic future where a less incompetent smallpiper, shorn of all vestiges of stage fright, tours the smallest folk venues in the country... Watch this space!!
The fan insisted I play with drones. I should do this more: I am out of practice (let's not even think about the A chanter at this point). Between drones and the fan pulling out his amp I had half an ear in case our occasional neighbour should hoof it don the stairs to complain about the noise.
The ostensible purpose of this is to allow the fan to work up some basic accompaniment for session, but he keeps thinking about opening bits he could play, then I could follow in. In a session, says I, sceptical. He mentions friends we might play to. Of course. But I rather think the fan is planning a wildly optimistic future where a less incompetent smallpiper, shorn of all vestiges of stage fright, tours the smallest folk venues in the country... Watch this space!!
Tuesday, 25 February 2014
Mystery
I've been working on some faster tunes: Troy, which has really fallen by the wayside of late, and Athol Highlanders. I need to find dots to remind myself how the fourth part goes. The first part is OK, third ok-ish. But the second! For some reason I cannot fathom the first ACE is a doddle: it makes nice shapes with my fingers, it's good to play. The second, which comes straight after the first is next to impossible. Nearly every time I play I get it wrong, or just grind to halt. Then following that is the ADF, which is even worse, because I can't get it right even the one time. I've tried speeding up, slowing right down, repeating, repeating, repeating... I should record. At one stage I had more recordings of the Highlanders than anything else, but since I moved blogs and lost tunes I seem to have none at all...
Here's another odd thing. I only played briefly yesterday for headache-removing purposes, and decided to play D only. In D again today, and perhaps because I was going fast and getting things wrong and thrashing out bars rather than playing tunes I felt the need to give myself a treat to finish, so moved to A for a tune.... Actually feeling, just after 2 days of D, that I'm losing comfort with A, although much had to do with my hands being so cold and unable to stretch, and A is my favourite right now.
I'm also being plagued by a mysterious tune. I can hear it very clearly, although only as a plain tune: I can't hear any accompaniment, but I am sure it is a Mr MacInnes tune. I hum it, and after a while it morphs into the Heights of Cassino, which I haven't played or heard for an age. Very odd.
The other reason for the brevity of my playing yesterday was that we were going out to hear a spot of music from Messrs McGoldrick, Doyle and McCusker. No mystery there - just some great tunes and some great musicians and a really good night out.
Here's another odd thing. I only played briefly yesterday for headache-removing purposes, and decided to play D only. In D again today, and perhaps because I was going fast and getting things wrong and thrashing out bars rather than playing tunes I felt the need to give myself a treat to finish, so moved to A for a tune.... Actually feeling, just after 2 days of D, that I'm losing comfort with A, although much had to do with my hands being so cold and unable to stretch, and A is my favourite right now.
I'm also being plagued by a mysterious tune. I can hear it very clearly, although only as a plain tune: I can't hear any accompaniment, but I am sure it is a Mr MacInnes tune. I hum it, and after a while it morphs into the Heights of Cassino, which I haven't played or heard for an age. Very odd.
The other reason for the brevity of my playing yesterday was that we were going out to hear a spot of music from Messrs McGoldrick, Doyle and McCusker. No mystery there - just some great tunes and some great musicians and a really good night out.
Friday, 21 February 2014
The more I look the more I see...
I have the world's worst memory. The fan can list the names of every child who was in his class at primary school, I struggle to name more than four people who taught me. I do remember my art teacher (name long forgotten) giving me one piece of advice, which was to draw what I saw, not what I thought I saw.
Drawing is about looking, and music is about listening, but somehow it's not until you become a musician that you really understand what it means to listen. It's more than not blocking your ears to sound: it's active, not passive. I think it is also selective. I am sure I listen better to other pipers and to Scottish music than to other musicians, instruments, genres: it's a matter of knowing what I am listening to, what I am looking for, of understanding what I am hearing.
Traditional music, like any other sphere of interest, grows the more you know about it. The more you look the more you see connections and patterns. Acknowledgements lists on sleeves notes that once were apparently full of random names become clearer the more of them I read. Ian Green is the guiding star behind Greentrax that releases many fine CDs of traditional music. My own pipe maker, Ian Kinnear, is mentioned on the sleeve notes for The Carrying Stream. Various people pop up in different places, different bands at different times.
Tunes gather their own listening history. I probably heard The Kathryn Tickell Band CD some years ago. The tunes would have meant nothing to me. I dug it out of the cupboard this evening in a search for something different, and immediately found the same old. The second track opens with Out On the Ocean, which I am sure is one the fan is currently playing (unless I am confusing it with The Rolling Waves). Track 3 is Peacock Followed the Hen, which is one of the alternative names for Brose and Butter, although this is longer and has more parts than Brose, which I know from Tryst and Ossian. Track 6 includes All Night I Lay With Jockey, which I could have sworn was on Tryst or Sealbh, but perhaps I am confusing it with another lowland or border tune... And track 10 opens with a "Highland pipe lament" called Dargai - I'm not sure if it's the Heights thereof, or not: too slow and too much like a Northumbrian tune.
Hearing a tune in different places, played in different ways by different people on different instruments adds to my enjoyment and understanding of the tune, as well as giving me the confidence to play tunes in the way I want to play them.
Drawing is about looking, and music is about listening, but somehow it's not until you become a musician that you really understand what it means to listen. It's more than not blocking your ears to sound: it's active, not passive. I think it is also selective. I am sure I listen better to other pipers and to Scottish music than to other musicians, instruments, genres: it's a matter of knowing what I am listening to, what I am looking for, of understanding what I am hearing.
Traditional music, like any other sphere of interest, grows the more you know about it. The more you look the more you see connections and patterns. Acknowledgements lists on sleeves notes that once were apparently full of random names become clearer the more of them I read. Ian Green is the guiding star behind Greentrax that releases many fine CDs of traditional music. My own pipe maker, Ian Kinnear, is mentioned on the sleeve notes for The Carrying Stream. Various people pop up in different places, different bands at different times.
Tunes gather their own listening history. I probably heard The Kathryn Tickell Band CD some years ago. The tunes would have meant nothing to me. I dug it out of the cupboard this evening in a search for something different, and immediately found the same old. The second track opens with Out On the Ocean, which I am sure is one the fan is currently playing (unless I am confusing it with The Rolling Waves). Track 3 is Peacock Followed the Hen, which is one of the alternative names for Brose and Butter, although this is longer and has more parts than Brose, which I know from Tryst and Ossian. Track 6 includes All Night I Lay With Jockey, which I could have sworn was on Tryst or Sealbh, but perhaps I am confusing it with another lowland or border tune... And track 10 opens with a "Highland pipe lament" called Dargai - I'm not sure if it's the Heights thereof, or not: too slow and too much like a Northumbrian tune.
Hearing a tune in different places, played in different ways by different people on different instruments adds to my enjoyment and understanding of the tune, as well as giving me the confidence to play tunes in the way I want to play them.
Saturday, 25 January 2014
Appearances can deceive
Despite the silence here I have been playing. Not quite every day. On Wednesday we entertained a second house guest so I spent the evening cooking, talking and eating. Yesterday we went, the fan and I, to see The Gloaming.
In the first place, the venue itself was enough to make the trek across to north London worthwhile. The Union Chapel towers above its neighbours, a row of four and five storied town houses with bars on the area windows. Houses and chapel alike hide modestly behind a fenced strip of grass and trees that immodestly describes itself as a gardens. Beyond this lies the road and then an endless strip of trendy shops and bars and eateries.
Inside there is much heavy wood, and stone, and staircases, and then you come out into the upper tier of a squat, octagonal room with a carved wooden ceiling from which depend four chandeliers. The low lighting, in red and blue, and the dry ice (or perhaps it was just steam from damp clothes: it was a wet night) only enhance the Victorian Gothic atmosphere. The pulpit, a monumental wodge of stone, which sits in front of three arches that look like portcullis, is huge, and it's easy to imagine a hellfire and brimstone preacher standing there, striking the fear of god into hundreds of hearts. I say hundreds because it's a big venue - I estimated perhaps 900.
Not every seat was full. And not ever seat remained full: I've never known an audience for such comings and goings. I don't know whether they were weak-bladdered, thirsty, desperate for a cigarette, or just too excited to remain seated, but there was an awful lot of coming and going.
Despite their hypermobility the audience were appreciative. I'm used to the staid local folk club where, during the second half, once enough beer has been drunk, and if someone in the band starts it, a few people will clap along roughly in time for half a tune. This audience greeted the band as if they were Elvis Presley, the Pope, and their oldest and best friends rolled into one. They listened in silence to the songs, and became more frenzied as the music speeded up, tapping and clapping and stamping and whooping. The standing ovation at the end was inevitable. Everyone was clearly enjoying themselves immensely.
From our seats up at one of the sides we had a limited view of the stage. I could see the pianist, who was a whole floor show in himself, posturing and posing, hunching forward, stretching back, drooping, pausing, removing layers of clothing... I could see Iarla, and the amazing Mr Hayes. The others I could only see by half standing and leaning over the pew in front.
The music itself it hard to describe. Irish, certainly, and many of the songs and tunes traditional, but played in untraditional ways. I've been used to think of Mr Hayes as someone who slows music down, but some of this was played fast and furious. The hardanger was throaty, vibrant; the piano jazzy, funky. They weren't afraid to have someone sit out for most of a set. The sets started slow and quiet with a song - some very moving - and built and grew. Some of it felt classical, some of it baroque, but definitely, as I've said Irish, and beautifully so. It was absolutely fantastic.
We also very much enjoyed the small Italian restaurant we stumbled on. Lovely people, lovely food.
In the first place, the venue itself was enough to make the trek across to north London worthwhile. The Union Chapel towers above its neighbours, a row of four and five storied town houses with bars on the area windows. Houses and chapel alike hide modestly behind a fenced strip of grass and trees that immodestly describes itself as a gardens. Beyond this lies the road and then an endless strip of trendy shops and bars and eateries.
Inside there is much heavy wood, and stone, and staircases, and then you come out into the upper tier of a squat, octagonal room with a carved wooden ceiling from which depend four chandeliers. The low lighting, in red and blue, and the dry ice (or perhaps it was just steam from damp clothes: it was a wet night) only enhance the Victorian Gothic atmosphere. The pulpit, a monumental wodge of stone, which sits in front of three arches that look like portcullis, is huge, and it's easy to imagine a hellfire and brimstone preacher standing there, striking the fear of god into hundreds of hearts. I say hundreds because it's a big venue - I estimated perhaps 900.
Not every seat was full. And not ever seat remained full: I've never known an audience for such comings and goings. I don't know whether they were weak-bladdered, thirsty, desperate for a cigarette, or just too excited to remain seated, but there was an awful lot of coming and going.
Despite their hypermobility the audience were appreciative. I'm used to the staid local folk club where, during the second half, once enough beer has been drunk, and if someone in the band starts it, a few people will clap along roughly in time for half a tune. This audience greeted the band as if they were Elvis Presley, the Pope, and their oldest and best friends rolled into one. They listened in silence to the songs, and became more frenzied as the music speeded up, tapping and clapping and stamping and whooping. The standing ovation at the end was inevitable. Everyone was clearly enjoying themselves immensely.
From our seats up at one of the sides we had a limited view of the stage. I could see the pianist, who was a whole floor show in himself, posturing and posing, hunching forward, stretching back, drooping, pausing, removing layers of clothing... I could see Iarla, and the amazing Mr Hayes. The others I could only see by half standing and leaning over the pew in front.
The music itself it hard to describe. Irish, certainly, and many of the songs and tunes traditional, but played in untraditional ways. I've been used to think of Mr Hayes as someone who slows music down, but some of this was played fast and furious. The hardanger was throaty, vibrant; the piano jazzy, funky. They weren't afraid to have someone sit out for most of a set. The sets started slow and quiet with a song - some very moving - and built and grew. Some of it felt classical, some of it baroque, but definitely, as I've said Irish, and beautifully so. It was absolutely fantastic.
We also very much enjoyed the small Italian restaurant we stumbled on. Lovely people, lovely food.
Wednesday, 15 January 2014
Life is full of surprises
We had an orgy of music at our local folk club in November: Emma Sweeney, Vamm, Anna and Mairearad, Breabach. Our folk club, quite fairly, I suppose, as we're in England, favours English Folk, so it was a welcome surprise to find so many Scots and Irish bands in the line up this season.
Anna has a good line in patter. She had an anecdote that required a Swedish accent, first checking that there were, of course, no Swedes in the audience. She had less luck with the French - there was a French man sitting (as she noted in a stage whisper to Mairearad) right in the front row.
During Braebach's set Calum noted they were about to play pibroch and asked if anyone was familiar with this. I obviously didn't shout up loud enough as Calum looked rather bemused and said he wasn't sure if that was a yes or someone's dinner disagreeing with them...
In the interval I did the fan thing and told JDM that I admired his solo CD. He seemed very surprised that anyone would have heard of it, seemed to think it made sense that I would be a fellow piper (he liked smallpipes, he said), but was amazed that I am not a lone piper in the South East. We have, I said, the Essex Caledonian, CADPAD, bands in Southend and Ipswich, and host the RSPBA London and South East competition each summer.
When Vamm were playing Catriona cheerfully said they had improved on three pipe tunes by playing them on fiddles. She did ask, laughingly, if there were any pipers in the audience. She was expecting silence, of course she was, but one voice piped up....
Vamm themselves are full of surprises. Their CD has an irritating lack of information about any of the tunes, but there is one that sounds rather Baroque-ish, and one that sounds as though it might be written by Duncan Chisholm. Nothing sounds quite as you'd expect a couple of Scots fiddles to sound, but it all sounds very good indeed.
Just the chanter today, and more work on grace notes. Surprisingly I rather enjoyed it.
Anna has a good line in patter. She had an anecdote that required a Swedish accent, first checking that there were, of course, no Swedes in the audience. She had less luck with the French - there was a French man sitting (as she noted in a stage whisper to Mairearad) right in the front row.
During Braebach's set Calum noted they were about to play pibroch and asked if anyone was familiar with this. I obviously didn't shout up loud enough as Calum looked rather bemused and said he wasn't sure if that was a yes or someone's dinner disagreeing with them...
In the interval I did the fan thing and told JDM that I admired his solo CD. He seemed very surprised that anyone would have heard of it, seemed to think it made sense that I would be a fellow piper (he liked smallpipes, he said), but was amazed that I am not a lone piper in the South East. We have, I said, the Essex Caledonian, CADPAD, bands in Southend and Ipswich, and host the RSPBA London and South East competition each summer.
When Vamm were playing Catriona cheerfully said they had improved on three pipe tunes by playing them on fiddles. She did ask, laughingly, if there were any pipers in the audience. She was expecting silence, of course she was, but one voice piped up....
Vamm themselves are full of surprises. Their CD has an irritating lack of information about any of the tunes, but there is one that sounds rather Baroque-ish, and one that sounds as though it might be written by Duncan Chisholm. Nothing sounds quite as you'd expect a couple of Scots fiddles to sound, but it all sounds very good indeed.
Just the chanter today, and more work on grace notes. Surprisingly I rather enjoyed it.
Saturday, 30 November 2013
When Braebach came to town
I wish I could blame my silence here on hours of pipe playing, but sadly I'm playing very little at present. It's partly the pre-Christmas knitting rush. Like other knitters at this time of year I am knitting against the clock. One neck warmer done, one pair of socks cast off this evening. A scarf will be cast on this evening, then that leaves another scarf and another pair of socks. How long
until Christmas?
At least I've been out to see some piping this week, when Braebach came to town again. They are a good band to see live. They have a good line in banter and jokes. The pipes have more power live - I find them a little washed out on their CDs. Our local folk club is in an old church, with a fantastic acoustic for pipes.
They mostly played from their new album, Urlar. They threw in Good Drying, from Desperate Battle of the Birds, and the Caber Feidh set and The Rolling Hills of the Borders from The Big Spree. I like this song, and I enjoy the use of Gaelic song that Megan has brought to the band. I can live without Calum's singing. He's a fine piper and whistle player, and presumably a decent string player, so I don't know why he persists in singing. I'm not keen on either his voice or his choice of songs.
The band is definitely Scottish, but they have lots of big bass lines, and a jazz feel. Perhaps this is the way the Easy Club might have gone! They have a good mix of traditional (how many bands play pibroch?) and modern. I love James D M's piping and did the fan thing at the interval and went to tell him (he was on the merchandise stall) how much I am enjoying his solo album.
until Christmas?
At least I've been out to see some piping this week, when Braebach came to town again. They are a good band to see live. They have a good line in banter and jokes. The pipes have more power live - I find them a little washed out on their CDs. Our local folk club is in an old church, with a fantastic acoustic for pipes.
They mostly played from their new album, Urlar. They threw in Good Drying, from Desperate Battle of the Birds, and the Caber Feidh set and The Rolling Hills of the Borders from The Big Spree. I like this song, and I enjoy the use of Gaelic song that Megan has brought to the band. I can live without Calum's singing. He's a fine piper and whistle player, and presumably a decent string player, so I don't know why he persists in singing. I'm not keen on either his voice or his choice of songs.
The band is definitely Scottish, but they have lots of big bass lines, and a jazz feel. Perhaps this is the way the Easy Club might have gone! They have a good mix of traditional (how many bands play pibroch?) and modern. I love James D M's piping and did the fan thing at the interval and went to tell him (he was on the merchandise stall) how much I am enjoying his solo album.
Wednesday, 13 November 2013
Identity parade
I don't often seem to have tunes in my head these days, which is a shame. However, there was definitely one rattling round my head today. It seemed rather familiar and I was pretty sure it had escaped from the Desperate Battle of the Birds. The problem was that once I was in the car, playing the CD, all the tunes were familiar, but I couldn't quite picture *my* tune. I thought I would know it when I heard it, but apparently not.
I thought I recognised Battle of the Somme when we went to see Anna and Mairearad on Monday, but it turned out to be Ellie's March. It was a very good evening. I'm not the world's biggest box fan (OK, I'm pretty much allergic to boxes, with exceptions given for Dermot Byrne and Simon Thoumire - always assuming a concertina counts as a box) but I do love jokes, musicians having fun, great guitar work and good tunes. My only disappointment was that the fiddle and pipes only made one brief appearance apiece. More pipes on the CD, luckily.
I thought I recognised Battle of the Somme when we went to see Anna and Mairearad on Monday, but it turned out to be Ellie's March. It was a very good evening. I'm not the world's biggest box fan (OK, I'm pretty much allergic to boxes, with exceptions given for Dermot Byrne and Simon Thoumire - always assuming a concertina counts as a box) but I do love jokes, musicians having fun, great guitar work and good tunes. My only disappointment was that the fiddle and pipes only made one brief appearance apiece. More pipes on the CD, luckily.
Tuesday, 5 November 2013
Just passing through
Not getting much playing time and kicking myself for not making more effort when I had 4 days off work last week. Interesting discussion on the Session around how to fit practice in, how often to practice, how long for. Several people saying 15 minutes a day is better than nothing, whereas I've come to the conclusion that is just tokenism and doesn't help anything...
I had the practice chanter out this evening to work on those tricky bits in the Highland Brigade at Waterloo. Slow, but coming on.
Emma Sweeney was excellent last night. She has a style all of her own and sounded less American live with just a guitarist than she does on the CD.
I had the practice chanter out this evening to work on those tricky bits in the Highland Brigade at Waterloo. Slow, but coming on.
Emma Sweeney was excellent last night. She has a style all of her own and sounded less American live with just a guitarist than she does on the CD.
Saturday, 15 June 2013
Catch-up
Fear not: despite the lack of blogging I have actually been playing.
Thursday went something like this:
Thursday went something like this:
Time played: a good 30 minutes of almost back to back tunes.
Tunes played: I was looking for a knitting pattern the other evening, and they are in a folder next to a folder full of music. So I flicked over the Piper’s Delight and saw that it included Hot Punch, which I’ve been enjoying from Seadan. Of course, they describe it as a jig, and the book has it as a reel or a march. I tried both, but neither sounded familiar. Ran through various tunes I know or have played (Green Hills of Tyrol, Scotland the Brave, Skye Boat Song), and a number where I know the tune or am familiar with the title but haven’t played it (Jenny Dang the Weaver, Mucking o’ Geordie’s Byre, Jenny Bawbee, Mrs McLeod of Raasay). Also ran through the Whaling Song and the Highlanders.
Foot tapping: sporadic
Instrument: Monkey in A
Recording: none – I squeezed piping in between an extended allotment visit (netting the currants), running some washing and showering. No time even to blog, let alone record.
Notes: the same problems with drones and pressure. Drones sound too loud and I can’t physically get enough air through to keep them going: I’m fighting with the bag and bellows. Without drones I occasionally overblow (or, overpump, I suppose) the chanter reed. Despite this ongoing problem (and I am hoping it will just go away as quickly as it came) I really enjoyed playing: I am getting so much pleasure out of playing at the moment. Also, listening to myself, and I can always hear the gracing better with no drones, I thought how I sounded like a person who can play pipes who is trying out new tunes . It sounds OK. And almost, if I never got any better than this, being able to play a few tunes, being able to play with other people, enjoying my playing, it would be OK, it wouldn’t be bad. But I do want to get better: much, much better, and I will.
Yesterday was brief in the extreme - barely 10 minutes of the Tree, the Whaling Song and the Highlanders, much of it with drones, which are still exhausting, Monkey in A. I wanted not to break the pledge but we needed to race out for a spot of international fiddle-playing at Bury's fine new(ish) music venue.
I'll be playing again today, later on.
Tuesday, 29 January 2013
There's more to folk than Fairport
Just a short squeak on my practice chanter this evening as I was late back from work and then it's band night. The fan helped me with learning the second part of the Whistle. My main problem is that the high A sounds awful on the chanter - something not quite right with the reed - and it's very off-putting.
Anyway, I’m finally getting around to the promised post on my
increased interest in traditional music. I suppose the general thrust of the
first post was that this is nothing new: traditional music, in one form or
another, has always been part of my life. Music has always been part of my life
– both listening and playing. The general thrust of this post is about why
traditional music bears exploration and re-listening, and also the change – or
maybe just an addition to – the ways in which I listen to music.
Traditional music, like a lot of labels for things in
the arts, is a very generic term covering a very large range. Such generic
labels are often used by those who aren’t familiar with the genre and give rise
to comments such as “I’m not interested in classical music” or “I don’t like
modern art”. The term “classical music” isn’t actually very helpful. It covers
everything from short, light, tinkly bits of piano (you can keep Chopin, as far
as I am concerned) to endless hours of Wagnerian opera. Even if you narrow down
to just opera there’s a world of difference between a Gilbert and Sullivan
operetta and Wagner, or between Mozart and Verdi. Even within the single
composer of opera it’s possible to love every second of La Traviata and yet to
feel that it would be perfectly possible to live a full and happy life without
ever hearing another note of Nabucco. And that’s before you even start on
different singers, performances, conductors...
My family generally refer to traditional music as “hey
nonny-nonny” or “plinky-plunk” music. I know what they mean and there are
definitely bits that could be characterised in one way or another. To the casual
listener – as to the casual listener for any genre – it may well “all sound the
same”. The more I’ve listened to traditional music the more I have come to
understand that it’s a very broad church. The simplest split is between Irish
and Scots although plenty of tunes move between the two traditions (I’m
ignoring English folk here, because I don’t generally listen to it). There’s the
dance music end (Teada), right through to a more orchestral (Duncan Chisholm) or
even chamber music (Ian Mcinnes, Deadly Buzz, Martin Hayes) sound, with a single instrument
or a handful of carefully chosen instruments. As with the orchestral tradition
there is a roughly defined group of instruments that are likely to be involved
(pipes of various kinds, fiddles, various stringed instruments, boxes of all
sorts, whistles) and instruments that you don’t expect, but which somehow work
very well (harpsichord, harmonium, horns). Then
there is all the crossover of traditions – Irish and Swedish, Irish and
Galician, or folk rock or electric folk. Even a single instrument can be used in lots of
different ways.
Traditional music, on other words, is not just River
Dance or the Morris or the highland fling. It is a whole world of music and if you spent your whole life listening only to that you wouldn't lack musical variety. And as with any music the more you listen the more you hear the nuances, the differences.
Hm. So I think this was part two - "there's a lot more to folk music than Fairport". Part three, when I get round to it, will cover how I am learning to listen to music differently.
Rereading the blog recently I spotted my pledge to play every day in February, which I had totally forgotten! February starts soon, and I must try to record as often as I can. I will keep blogging to a minimum so that spare time goes on piping.
Saturday, 29 December 2012
Faster?
A year or two ago the fan and I saw Bellevue Rendevous at Folk at the Oak. Lovely venue, where we've seen some really great music. Bellevue are a fab band - and very nice people who will happily let you hold a nyckelharpa or a bouzouki. (This happiness on the part of professional musicians to talk to fans about music and instruments is one of the things I love about folk music.)
Anyway, I mention them now because one of my abiding memories of that evening was Mr Marwick, during a particularly fast and furious piece (I believe he said the musical direction read "play like the devil"), turning to his fellow musicians each in turn and simply saying "faster?", and, of course, they upped the tempo. Upping the tempo is something I'm really trying to do, but not getting very far with. My fingers keep falling over themselves and the gracing goes for a burton. My other problem at the moment is that I am still relying on the bellows for my air supply (why???) and as soon as I stop pumping I lose pressure, and I need a good steady pressure to play at speed. I'm also suffering from fingers tightening up, to the extent where I start to fear that I will snap the chanter if I don't loosen up. Also, my left hand is not well-positioned and I'm not closing down on the holes cleanly. All beginner stuff, all very annoying.
I am also wondering about optimum speeds. I've been listening to another Xmas present today: the grand concert of piping from 1995. It's a bit of a shame that three of the six pipers are on GHB, only two on smallpipes and one on border pipes. Still, it's good to hear some pipers and some tunes I've not heard before. I enjoyed Mr MacDonald and Mr MacInnes most. The others, Mr Duncan in particular, seem to think that the main point is to go as fast as possible. I prefer a more sedate pace, where I can hear the tune, the grace notes, the texture of the music.
To be honest, one of my problems today is that I am concentrating more on what's going in this post than I am on actually playing..... So, recording is an example of how badly things go wrong when I try to go too fast. It's the Barren Rocks of Aden. I've started slow and speeded up, and wobbled to a bad end, with the tempo coming and going throughout. And it is bad, but it's a darn sight faster than this effort from June, and probably faster than this from September. So maybe I am getting faster....slowly.
Check this out on Chirbit
Anyway, I mention them now because one of my abiding memories of that evening was Mr Marwick, during a particularly fast and furious piece (I believe he said the musical direction read "play like the devil"), turning to his fellow musicians each in turn and simply saying "faster?", and, of course, they upped the tempo. Upping the tempo is something I'm really trying to do, but not getting very far with. My fingers keep falling over themselves and the gracing goes for a burton. My other problem at the moment is that I am still relying on the bellows for my air supply (why???) and as soon as I stop pumping I lose pressure, and I need a good steady pressure to play at speed. I'm also suffering from fingers tightening up, to the extent where I start to fear that I will snap the chanter if I don't loosen up. Also, my left hand is not well-positioned and I'm not closing down on the holes cleanly. All beginner stuff, all very annoying.
I am also wondering about optimum speeds. I've been listening to another Xmas present today: the grand concert of piping from 1995. It's a bit of a shame that three of the six pipers are on GHB, only two on smallpipes and one on border pipes. Still, it's good to hear some pipers and some tunes I've not heard before. I enjoyed Mr MacDonald and Mr MacInnes most. The others, Mr Duncan in particular, seem to think that the main point is to go as fast as possible. I prefer a more sedate pace, where I can hear the tune, the grace notes, the texture of the music.
To be honest, one of my problems today is that I am concentrating more on what's going in this post than I am on actually playing..... So, recording is an example of how badly things go wrong when I try to go too fast. It's the Barren Rocks of Aden. I've started slow and speeded up, and wobbled to a bad end, with the tempo coming and going throughout. And it is bad, but it's a darn sight faster than this effort from June, and probably faster than this from September. So maybe I am getting faster....slowly.
Check this out on Chirbit
Friday, 30 November 2012
What Passion
First posted Feb 23rd, 2012 by newpiper
I think I've discovered another way of getting a half decent recording: lower your expectations. It's been a bit of a week - very busy, some good stuff (piping inspiration from Michael McGoldrick on Monday), some not so good - but there has been no time for piping. I picked the pipes up this evening while dinner was in the oven, tired and headachy (me, that is, not the dinner). I had a go at three new tunes and couldn't get them to sound even vaguely recognisable. Back to Vicki. This time it's the Golden Birch and I was pleased just to get a single half-decent run through.
My starting is terribly - very ragged - but that's because I'm reaching out to hit the record button and so don't have a good hold on the pipes. I muff some notes. I also feel the sound isn't very even, but I think that's down to my feeling tired.
A new problem - I'm not placing my fingers well - I struggle to find finger holes, I don't get my fingers cleanly on the holes. It's like trying to get an octopus in a bag - no sooner do I cram some tentacles in than others flap out. Annoyingly, even once I've got one tentacle in - and it may have been nicely in the bag for ages - it will suddenly escape. I've never had problems with my fingers before. And although I managed about two hours at the weekend I've managed barely 45 minutes over two sessions today. Not good.
And the passion? St Cecilia's Ode - I got rid of the headache and a slight tendency to grumpiness.
Recording - The Golden Birch. Retrieved - to be posted.
I think I've discovered another way of getting a half decent recording: lower your expectations. It's been a bit of a week - very busy, some good stuff (piping inspiration from Michael McGoldrick on Monday), some not so good - but there has been no time for piping. I picked the pipes up this evening while dinner was in the oven, tired and headachy (me, that is, not the dinner). I had a go at three new tunes and couldn't get them to sound even vaguely recognisable. Back to Vicki. This time it's the Golden Birch and I was pleased just to get a single half-decent run through.
My starting is terribly - very ragged - but that's because I'm reaching out to hit the record button and so don't have a good hold on the pipes. I muff some notes. I also feel the sound isn't very even, but I think that's down to my feeling tired.
A new problem - I'm not placing my fingers well - I struggle to find finger holes, I don't get my fingers cleanly on the holes. It's like trying to get an octopus in a bag - no sooner do I cram some tentacles in than others flap out. Annoyingly, even once I've got one tentacle in - and it may have been nicely in the bag for ages - it will suddenly escape. I've never had problems with my fingers before. And although I managed about two hours at the weekend I've managed barely 45 minutes over two sessions today. Not good.
And the passion? St Cecilia's Ode - I got rid of the headache and a slight tendency to grumpiness.
Recording - The Golden Birch. Retrieved - to be posted.
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