Love, actually

It's been a while since I posted here. It's been a while since I played. Work is very busy. The fan has been having a rough time these last few months. You'd think music would be a solace in all this, but our routines are upset so that finding time to play is difficult, and I've not often been in the mood. I'm feeling bad about leaving the blog, and thinking of drawing a line under it as I always hate it when blogs I follow fizzle out.

So I've been pondering last posts (and have just realised that Last Post would have been the ideal post title!) and how to, as it were, end it all, and my musings have been melancholy as farewells so often are.

Then this evening I've played again and I've thought how much I love this, how much my pipes have brought me. In a way being able to play together has brought the fan and I closer together. I've enjoyed - and continue to enjoy - the community of playing with others. I've enjoyed the blogging - this will be post 609, with two in draft that never got published. I've played for 6 years: Morag, the poor neglected lass, is 6 years old. The Monkey I've had for about 3 and half years which has coincided, I think, with my piping coming on in great strides. I've shaken off stage fright, memorised tunes, put sets together. I've read about piping, and Scotland. I've discovered whole swathes of folk music I never knew existed. I've done so much and I've learned so much and despite the whinges I have loved it. I do love it, in fact. I love the Monkey, I love piping, I love being a piper. And I feel that despite this momentary lull I can go out on a high, and it's not the end, only the end of the beginning.

If you have been on my journey with me, thank you. I'm sorry to leave you, and this blog, but please know that in an enchanted place at the top of the forest a girl and her pipes will always be playing.

Goodbye.

Where do you go to, my lovely

First day back at work after a week away was a busy one, with the usual email avalanche and three meetings that weren't in my diary when I went away, two of them placed so as to wipe out the chance for anything but the briefest of lunch breaks. Nevertheless I felt reasonably upbeat, humming tunes to myself through the day.

It occurs to me that I haven't had tunes in my head of late. I don't know why, and rather like swallows I don't think I noticed them going, but I did notice when they came back again.

The tunes in my head needed to be played, which gave me a spur for my week of playing. I played a couple of tunes, shifted the bag to make it more comfortable, and suddenly got the buzz. I played through three tunes, not wanting to stop in case I lost it. But the bag got less comfortable, I had to shift it an inch...and the buzz vanished.

I kept on playing, anxiously checking to see if I could perhaps almost, sorta, kinda feel the buzz...but I think it's like being in love: you know when you are and if you have to ask then you aren't. Given that it came and went I can only assume that, rather prosaically, the buzz is linked to pressure levels, but I only know that I had it once and then lost it.

Kiss and make up

Sunday was our regular session. After last month's surge in numbers we dwindled back down to four. Four would be fine, although I only count as a half, if that, as I never play along with other peoples's tunes. The problem is not the lack of numbers so much as lack of shared repertoire. The fan and the Irish piper seem to have forgotten the repertoire they shared in the days of the band. The fiddler seems to have a pile of new tunes each month, but none of them are ever anything the others play or even know, and somehow no one seems much inclined to  learn his tunes either.

In some ways I'm the one creating shared repertoire and everyone is happy to pitch in for The Heights of Dargai, The March of the King of Laoise, My Home Town or Bonnie Galloway. It may be that they are catchy tunes, and it may be that my limited repertoire means I play most tunes most months. So despite the fact that I didn't much feel in the mood to go out yesterday evening I was all geared up to play lots of tunes.

And then disaster struck. The fan had terrible problems tuning drones. I think the problem is that, rather shamefully, I've not used drones since I last gave the monkey a polish. I'd forgotten that, so didn't ask the fan to do a pre-sesson tuning. The drones were difficult to tune, and wouldn't stay in tune. As I played the pressure was uneven, adding to the general awfulness of drones. I scraped through Flett, John Macmillan's boat trip, Dargai, and Home Town, but it wasn' t right, and it just got worse, with the chanter sounding sharp and the tube kinking and cutting off air a couple of times. By the time I accepted the Irish piper's suggestion to play without drones I was so cross and unhappy that I failed to be able to play either Woman or Galloway and I am afraid I gave up in a huff. By the time we got home I had pretty much decided that I was clearly in need of a break from piping....

But...I have tunes to play, other tunes I want to learn. And I didn't want to let the sun go down on an argument, to get the monkey out in a month for the next session thinking about how I'd been let down, how we had fallen out. So this evening I played my pipes. The fan got the drones about right. I played a tune with drones then flipped them off and ran through my current playlist and it all went well and I loved it. I think the monkey has forgiven me for doubting him: I got the buzz tonight.

Don't stop me now

I thought I was looking forward to the end of my piping month. I was certainly looking forward the end of January, to a few more minutes of daylight here and there each day. When February came I kept on playing, and I've played every day so far.

I suppose it's partly that I've got into a bit of a routine so that I don't feel I am juggling my evening in order to make piping time. It's partly that I have new tunes that I want to work on. It's also just that, despite the endless issues with comfort, or a lack of it, I do just enjoy playing.

I'll be playing again tomorrow as it's a session weekend. Not sure that any of my new tunes will feature, but actually it might be nice to play some of the old favourites. They've been neglected this year.

Buzzing

Despite various logistical challenges and time constraints (i.e. too much to do and not enough time to do it in) I was determined to play this evening. What with one thing and another it seemed appropriate. I also hit the buzz this evening. The fan has asked what I mean by "buzz": it is just that. The chanter seems to vibrate in my hands, under my fingers, the sound seems extra full and rich. It doesn't seem to be linked to how I am playing, although when it comes I think it improves my playing because I feel so joyous about it. I suspect it's to do with atmospherics, heat and humidity. Or perhaps the Monkey just felt in celebratory mood.

As if by magic

Kilbowie Cottage appeared in my head today. It's at that stage where I can hear it, but on the whole I can't hum it, and even if I sit and listen to it the moment I pick up my pipes it vanishes. The bits I can hum I can play: that's most of the A part, just about by heart, with a slightly muddled mess in  the two bars in the middle.

I find that the dots guide me in the shape of the tune, confirming the notes I can hear in my head, but where the timing is wrong in my head, or not there at all, I struggle even with the dots to play the tune properly, despite being able to read music.

I've had tenderness in my right index finger this week, at the middle joint and tip, and soreness in my elbow and shoulder. I am hoping it's excess use of a PC at work and that it won't interfere with what seems at the moment to be an insatiable desire to play. It has meant that I've failed to be comfortable with my bellows and had to abandon before doing my elbow serious damage. It's a shame, because apart from feeling the love and being keen to get this tune sorted, I just started getting the chanter buzz this evening, and as well as feeling good that always sounds fantastic and spurs me on.

End of the road

I've  managed, not through any particular plan, to play every other day this month. That's about to come to an end. We've got a few days of being away and a few days with a house guest, so unless I can muster the energy to play tomorrow today was probably the last time this month I'll have my pipes out. I feel slightly sad about that, but hopefully a rest will help tunes ferment in my brain a little.

Today I worked on the Women. It's odd how when I read a tune I go from start to finish, maybe note complex gracing, but rarely spot patterns. It seems to be after I've played a tune for a bit that I start thinking that this bit is rather like that, and then I go back to the dots and see the patterns, the repeats, the not-quite-the-same bits, like the B strike B on one bar in the B part which in the variation is B A B. Or the low G that I have been playing as a low A, and actually I will continue with that as somehow the G sounds wrong now.

Anyway, I think I may be able to forge a pairing between the Women and Sleat. Maybe. I worked on both of these this evening, made a complete mess of Miss G once or twice, fluffed My Home Town, but nevertheless enjoyed playing.  In a quiet sort of way I am feeling the love at the moment.

Speak severely

Apparently having a metaphorical dressing-down of Braemar yesterday worked. I don't thing I've got all the necessary gracing in, but I seem to have got rid of the tension in places where I am anticipating gracing.

Better than that, I had a day where nothing hurt, my fingers felt supple and the chanter really buzzed and sang. I played everything except Troy, which has gone into a state of deep hibernation, it seems, and the Dragon, which, frankly, I believe has probably died.

Fourth part of Sleat  continues to elude me, the repeat of the second part of John Macmillan needs work, as does the non-variant form of Brandy. But I really enjoyed playing today. It was good.

Free range

Decided to ignore the list of tunes being learned and play whatever came to mind. A couple of the current tunes tried to msucle in: Highlanders when I wanted the King, and Brandy, quite persistently, when I was trying for Flett. Had to get dots out in the end.

I played Flett, Bonnie Galloway, Dargai, Magersfontein, My Home Town, King of Laoise, MacIntyre's Farewell, Capt Angus L MacDonald, Loch Bee. I was reasonably comfortable, cold hands being my biggest issue, and I really enjoyed it.

I did have to think about what tunes I know. It occurs to me that I haven't played Cabot Trail for a while, and that I keep thinking that's what I am playing when I play Father Johns's Boat Trip, when actually it's the Capt.  If he was a naval captain that would work out rather nicely! I need to make a list of all the tunes I know, just to remind myself.

I'm listening to a lot of music at the moment, lots of Braebach in the car and all sorts of stuff (well, all sorts of Scots and Irish trad) at home. Lots of pipes. Trying to resist the temptation to print dots for new tunes and at the moment the main thing holding me back is that I'd have to get them through pipetunes which involves spending some pennies....

Lost and found

I'm afraid I lost my rag a little this evening. I squeezed in playing around cooking so had to keep interrupting myself to put various pans on and off the hob. I had my list of tunes, and from the outset I really struggled. The pipes seemed to be slipping out of my arms, I seemed to lack pressure, the bellows felt worse than useless. I was compensating for a lack of grip on the pipes with tension in my fingers, and I thought of all the things (outside piping, and generally rather trivial) that are bugging me right now, and that distracted me from the tunes, and when I failed to get through Troy  in one piece I gave a great roar of frustration...

Somehow, as I roared I knocked the drones switch, snarled at the drones and tunred them off again. I wonder if the drones switch had been partially engaged as flicking the switch seemed to improve the pressure, which enabled me to concentrate and get Troy  licked, although the 4th part took a couple of attempts. I fiddled about with various items on the hob, came back and calmly played Troy again.

I played everything except Father John and the Highlanders. Only bits of Sleat as I couldn't remember all of it.

At the end of playing I sat down with the pipes feeling just right , played around with some phrases, slow and steady and stately; things that just fell out of my fingers. Then Dargai and Amazing Grace, and I went back to the hob.

"That sounded nice," said the fan. "What did?" I asked. "That first piece at the end there. The slow air."  I had to admit that it was just improvisation, but surely it says something about how I am learning the musical idiom, the patterns and sounds, that I can fool the fan into thinking I'm playing a real tune when all I am doing is having a quiet moment with the Monkey, reassuring ourselves that we are friends, that everything is all right between us.

Thursday

Problems again with getting comfortable. No combination of placing of bellows, elbow and wrist seems to work. I really must try longer tubing between bag and bellows.

Ocean. Really need to sort the B part so I can play it.

Heroes and Heights. A different combination today. It just needs a slight rest on the final note of the first tune for the segue to work. A couple of notes in Heroes  proving slow to sink into my brain. If I did put these two together then with Bee on the end it would make my first three tune set.

Sleat, Brandy, Dragon, Braemar, which lost that little run up again. I'm literally dropping one note down and that throws the whole thing out.

Father Johns's Boat Trip, which I like more and more as a pair.

Even on a bad day it's good, I enjoy playing.

Omission

It doesn't matter how long or short any break I get from work might be, or how much I cram in to it, towards the end of it I will sit and list to myself all the  very many things I meant to do and just didn't squeeze in.

This last break was two whole weeks. We did lots. We visited relatives, lunched with friends, and with just the two of us. I swept out the shed, weeded the lavender bed, planted potatoes, sowed seeds. I did a pile of household chores. I read four or five books. I did some knitting, I finally got round to a sewing project that I half abandoned well over a year ago.

The list of things I didn't get round to is probably twice this length, and for every book I read I have three still untouched, for evey load of washing I did there is a pile of ironing, for every email sent a letter unwritten...

Before the break one of the things I had definitely planned to do was some piping and some recording. As it happens I just sat at that musical crossroads. I played, twice, very briefly, for relatives. The fan and I played together once, putting together a putative set for this semi-mythical first gig, and another day I ran through the set on my own. But mostly, nothing.

Sometimes when I don't play I have a little panic. Suppose I've stopped piping? Suppose I'll never be in the mood again? Suppose the whole thing was a fad, a stage I've grown out of? Presumably the fact that I panic means it isn't so... I played tonight, because I had been humming tunes all day, and because I needed a de-stress and because, crossroads or not, I just wanted to. So I did. And I loved it, of course I did. It's just what I do, who I am.

More notes from the tune clinic

It's odd how differently different tunes progress. McIntyre's Farewell and Capt Angus I thought were dead and turn out to be alive and well and rather thinking of getting together, which is great. My only reservation is that I think they may feel more comfortable on A. When did I last fire up the A chanter? Don't even ask...

The Cabot Trail is needing more work on grace notes: a common complaint. Miss G is currently the pester tune: she wants to be played after absolutely every other tune I play.

Some tunes arrive and very quickly are ready for release into the wild. Others seem to spend endless months suffering from false starts and relapses. some recover, some languish as chronic patients, and some die off....

Still, I'm playing a lot at the moment and, dead and dying tunes not withstanding, I'm loving every minute of it.

Hang loose

I've always had a bit of a problem with wind instruments such as whistles where in order to reach some higher notes you over blow. I hate discordant notes, especially high discordant notes; I hate the thought that I won't hit the right note. I probably tense and over over blow, as it were. I remember in the days when I played the trumpet being encouraged to go for a higher note, pressing well in to the mouthpiece and giving it all with my lungs. I remember the teacher pulling the instrument away from me so I was barely touching mouth against mouthpiece, and the surprise at finding that note coming easily and effortlessly.

I've been thinking about this recently, noticing how, when  am relaxed, fingers are barely on the chanter. When I am tense my fingers are stiff, I grip the chanter, I find it difficult to move fingers quickly. Soft, loose fingers that don't really hold the chanter, just settle around it, make quick notes and the smallest chirrups of grace notes. I know now when a high A grace needs to be a tap of the thumb, and when a downward - or upward - swipe is better. Everything is more relaxed (usually).

Both Rocks and Dragon (how does The Barren Dragon strike as a set name?) went to pot this evening. I couldn't get either of them right. The fan says it's because I was playing faster, but even the slow walk throughs with all the gracing in was wrong. I don't get cross or bothered by this though. I know by now that if I leave these tunes to fester for a few days they will work themselves out and next time I play they will be fine.

My playing is going well at present: I'm feeling the love. I don't mention it that often these days. I suppose it's a sign of a maturing relationship. Certainly I occasionally have heart flips when I play, but generally it's a warm contented glow. It's going to be a forever thing - me and my Monkey.

I don't mind

It's a refrain in The Big Music: I don't mind. It's been in my head a lot of late - I should reread the book. I don't mind.

This evening I picked up my pipes. A was as before: a little struggle to get my fingers in place. Bag too big, pipes too heavy, everything too loud, bellows just in the way. And I thought - I don't mind, and I carried on for a bit then I switched to D.

D was not right. The bag was uncomfortable on my chest, the strap was in the wrong place, I couldn't get the chanter so that my fingers fell straight on it. But I didn't mind and I played on. After a while I tightened the strap, which made things a little better, although the bellows were uncomfortable on my wrist. But I didn't mind.

I played Highland Cathedral, The Willows, Atholl Highlanders, Braemar, The Lads of Alnwick (we were there last week), Flett, Troy, My Fair Lad, Loch Bee, Dargai, Battle's O'er, Green Hills...not everything went well, but I didn't mind. I just played and played and played until I got too tired to play any more.

This ought to have been the almightiest whinge (seems like I don't whinge much these days) but it isn't because I love my pipes and I loving playing them and if things don't go so well I'm still playing, because I don't mind.

Having such a good time

I started off with the usual drill this evening. Tired, headachey, disinclined to do much. After dinner I thought I might mess about with my newly invigorated chanter for a bit. That was fun, except I very quickly lost my lip. This is the trumpet name for it: I don't know what you call it on a practice chanter. It's not exactly lip, more the muscles along the lower jaw, but once they're gone that's the fun over for the evening, like it or not.

I thought I'd drag out my pipes, just for five minutes, because I felt I was very close to playing MacIntyre's Farewell by heart and I wanted to try it.

The pipes felt a little odd as I strapped myself in. I did have a close look at the bellows trying to pinpoint what what was odd, but I couldn't see anything. It wasn't until I was ready to go with my hands on the chanter that I realised I had Morag instead of the Monkey. She felt like an old friend and, apart from her usual bad habits (needing ridiculous amounts of air, flipping out the connector tubes at inconvenient moments), we got on well. She has a softer, less vibrant sound than the Monkey, a little quieter too, I think.

And I did it! I played Farewell by heart, not just once, but round and round. There are perhaps three places where I sometimes have to backtrack to get the right note, or pause to find it, but find it I do, every time. Admittedly it's just two parts, and on closer inspection only has seven unique bars, but nevertheless, I have learned it from a total standing start (because it's not even one I'd ever heard before) in seven days. Serious progress: a real milestone.

Happy? You betcha!

PHOP

Knitters have a concept called PHOP, or pennies per hours of pleasure. The idea is that you take a pattern from a charity website and the amount you give reflects the hours of pleasure you anticipate getting from that pattern. Patterns give pleasure in various layers. First there is the pleasure of imagining the lovely finished article in various different yarns, browsing yarn stores and eventually buying the yarn, then there are the various hours spent knitting your item, and finally the pleasure of wearing it, or giving it away. Patterns are always money well spent.

It's not unlike the concept of cost per wear for clothes, where you divide the cost of an article of clothing by the number of times you wear it to get the actual cost. So £250 pounds worth of lovely linen jacket that you wear all summer long for five years in a row (yes, writing from experience here) is actually better value than £80 of jacket that you wear twice and then leave to gather dust in the wardrobe.

Why am I talking about clothes and knitting? I was thinking about the large amounts of money I spent on my Monkey. I already had a set of pipes, so I didn't exactly need another. I also paid for extra keys, which I haven't yet used, and silver engraved mounts, which make precisely no difference at all to the way it plays or sounds. It was a large outlay. But when you think how often I've played those pipes since May, of the absolute pleasure I've had from playing those pipes, well they start to look like a real bargain.

The pipes had this usual uplifting effect this evening. Picking out a bit of a tune and wondering what it was I discovered it was part of the Shetland Fiddler, which I've abandoned of late, Clearly it would like to come back.

I was going to add to the hours of pleasure for this blog post by attaching a recording. I recorded McIntyre's Farewell. It's lovely and I'm so pleased with how it's going. I playing it smoothly and fluently, glossing over the minor errors, not pausing between repeats or sections. I'm already humming it, already picking out bars, and I only first played it through a week ago. It went so well I thought I'd do Castle Grant while I was at it, as that's also just early read through stage, but sounding good.

Then as I went to master the first tune I got a "card full" message. Duly deleted two tunes I'd left on, tried again, same problem. Now I know why the fan was keen for me to get a second sound card. He didn't mean that I was filling it up - he meant that he had.

A recipe for happiness

Take one long and tedious week, stuffed with boredom and frustration. Sprinkle liberally with end of week lethargy and garnish with the sort of headache that comes with crunching noises in your neck. Add one small black velvet Monkey in D and a collection of tunes, new and old. Apply for one hour.

It works a treat. The only reason I'm not bouncing off the walls in total ecstasy is that when I played Troy fast and furious the recorder wasn't on, and when the recorder was on my playing wan't fast and furious. We all have our off moments.

The fan says I'm almost up to full playing speed and asked how it felt. It feels slightly scary, as if I'm not quite in control or very close to skidding out of control. I'm also finding that although the very small finger movements needed on the D means I can go fast it also means that it takes very little to mess those movements up. If my hands get too warm and slightly damp it means when I lift my finger just the smallest amount it isn't enough to sound the note change.

McIntyre's Farewell is coming on nicely - it really is a lovely tune. Maybe I'll record that this weekend.

Thunderbolt City

The fan said today that I am doing better than he expected. It's not that he thought I wasn't capable, just that he doubted my ability to stick at it, given how many other instruments I've tried.

There are people who marry the first person they meet, and are happy 50, 60 or 70 years later. Many of us are less lucky and have to hunt around, which might entail everything from one night stands and disastrous dates to moving in, to give it a go... As I've mentioned before I played recorder at school - I think many people of my generation did. Before that, at my first primary school, I remember playing triangle for Away in a Manger and I have a tiny scrap of a memory that involves a concertina, but I can't have been older than four at the time. There was the violin, played to please my father. There was the trumpet, which was hopefully close enough to the baritone my sister played to be equally fun without being close enough to annoy her. That went well, and in the end it was a maths O level that came between us because I couldn't do both, and maths seemed more pressing at the time.

There was a guitar - Stairway to Heaven - taught by someone else's boyfriend... There were penny whistles, because Dad thought they'd be fun; there were ocarinas because they came in pretty colours. There was even a mouth organ, but I have no idea where it came from, and we never really worked out how to play it properly. The mandolin, of course, the mandola and bouzouki (too big).

Even when I started with my pipes they were a poor substitute. I'd fallen in love with those big, hunky GHB. I had romantic visions of me on a loch side with my pipes and the music. I wasn't prepared for the harsh reality of marching bands, uniforms, and kissing goodbye to my weekends.

And then, after a while, I stopped pining for those big, chunky, hunky GHB and fell in love with my little Monkey. Why would we not be together forever?

I'm pondering whether or not I feel I want to play every day in September. I've played today, just in case, but also because its the last of my 9 days of holiday. To mark the occasion I've also recorded! This is Cabot and Captain, again, this time with the Whaling Song. I start way too slow, partly because if I am too fast I go into Captain instead of the trail. I then fumble because I realise I have the dots, and worry they will distract me. I speed up. I make a few fluffs. I go through each tune twice.  I fluff in Whaling where there are what the fan calls snaps - at least, if they aren't there Id like them to be, but somehow they make me forget the next note. Whaling is too fast - you cold never sing at this speed. Tempo is something I must get fixed. No drones - and how thin the pipes sound without them. A bit lost. Which makes sense really, because pipes and drones belong together.


Check this out on Chirbit

Day 28

About half an hour this evening, maybe more, spread over a period of time, because I kept having to stop to be distracted. Monkey in D, no drones. Round and round with Troy, which is coming - I'm starting to hum it from time to time. It's tricky because the usual pattern isn't there of some bars, repeat those bars with a variant ending, next lot maybe a different start then the same, last lot, as those just done with maybe a different end. Also round and round with the Dragon.

For light relief I played Tree, Home, Galloway, Teribus, Rocks. My fingers found a tune of their own, which turned out to be a bit of the Fiddler that they particularly like, so I played that. Foot tapping a bit random, useful on Town and just random with Troy.

In Troy where there are three Es or Ds I am giving a G grace on one and dropping to a strike for the next. Sounds good and I like selecting grace notes - although sometimes my fingers select them for me.

I'd mention how much I love this, but I'd hate to think I was becoming repetitive.