Fiddling Away the Afternoon

For some reason or other, the other day I got all caught up with watching and listening to fiddling on YouTube. I thought I'd share some of my "likes" with you. If you aren't in the mood for that much, check out the last one with Andre Rieu and an Irish fiddler, from The Dubliners (I believe it said in one place). Love this stuff. Wish I could do it.

The first pair are a brother and sister from Victoria, Canada. The second group is from Boston, but they play a lot of Cape Breton music. It's amazing how this music gets around and transcends borders. The third is Emily Brandenburg, but I can't find any further information. Gotta love her onstage persona and presence tough. The fourth, you already know about.

Fiddling in the House

Cuppa and I went to our first house concert last night. If my count is correct, 24 fine folk attended, not including the two hosts and two musicians. Such concerts occur semi regularly in this neck of the woods, where there are a lot of fine musicians, and I had wanted to attend one to sample the experience, and for twenty bucks apiece last night, we got our chance. The price was right, the entertainment was delightful, and the dessert provided by the host were to die for as they say ... somewhere.

Both the location and genre suited me well as the house was very local and the genre was a combination of fiddling (several styles, including Swing) and voice by a performer whom I had encountered previously — Kelli Trottier. She was accompanied by Halifax guitarist, Greg Simm who kept us all loose and entertained with his wonderful sense of humour.



The above clip was taken in a little burg in Ontario; Kelli is the second from the right. This is my kind of fiddling. She didn't a lot of that style last night, but I thoroughly enjoyed what she did. (There is some camera shake in the first few seconds, but it soon settles down.)

Below is a clip of Kelli singing with her somewhat renown touring company of fiddlers and violinists, Bowfire. The group very recently performed for Sean Connery's 80th birthday party in The Bahamas.



Both Cuppa and I were pleased with our first house concert experience. My horoscope predicts that I will attend more house concerts in the future.

More Fiddling and Step Dancing

For those who can stand it, here's one more clip from our fiddling weekend. This is from the other concert featuring local talent, and it is shorter than the previous one. The five fiddlers and two step dancers all reside in the local area. I'd give their names, but without the spelling of one or two in front of me, I'll resist rather than risk making a mash of it.



Watch on YouTube

Out of the Woodwork

I am beginning to think that in these parts the surest sign of spring has not to do with robins or tulips but with fiddlers. After not being aware of many, if any, concerts for lo these many months, I have been receiving concert notices apace lately. On the weekend, we chose to go to two concerts. It's not something that one would normally do, but one has become more or less a spring-rite for Cuppa and me, and the other featured three very notable fiddlers that I didn't want to miss.

On Friday evening, we attended the Fiddle "n" Fame concert, the one with the three noteworthy fiddlers, in Pakenham. The fiddlers represented different styles. Andre Brunet brought us Quebecois fiddling, Louis Schryer more of an Old Time or Ottawa Valley style, and Troy MacGillvray represented Cape Breton (Eastern Canada).

They each did their solo thing, but the neatest thing is when fiddlers get together and feed off each other. I took the following video when they were doing this at the end of the concert. It's a long set (about six minutes) followed by a coupe of minutes with step dancing being added to the mix. I don't know if you will be up for the whole clip, but for however long that you do watch bear in mind that these three have never played together before.

In part, I attend such concerts to bear witness to the tradition that now only exists on the fringes of awareness. As a pathetic beginner fiddler, I also can begin to appreciate the incredible skill of such people. For me, such skill is worth supporting, and such traditions are worth keeping alive.

(Oh, I got the kids' Camcorder out of storage. It's new to me, but I dusted it off because it's zoomable, which makes it a much better tool than our little camera. However, it is taking some getting used to, as is trying to figure out how to work with the result. It works with a tape, a digital tape but a tape nevertheless, which makes it different and more difficult to work with. What with that and trying to figure out the appropriate software, it took me a mighty long and frustrating time to be able to post this clip.)



Watch on YouTube

Oogley Googley Natalie ...

... where both oogley and googley must be pronounced with three syllables as in Natalie and as in Google with an ee added at the end.

Hold on; I'm not completely mad; let me splain.

Let's begin with Natalie ... as in Natalie McMaster ... the Natalie McMaster ... the most renown Canadian fiddler, Natalie McMaster. yeah, that one. Last night, she performed at a free outdoor concert with the NAC orchestra (our local symphony). As the photo below will show, the crowd was large and we were a long way back. Being a free concert, however, I was fine with that.

I took the photo just before the performance commenced, and in it I have outline a gentleman who was standing (almost in the middle of the photo). Would you believe that he remained standing throughout the whole concert? Fortunately for him, it wasn't a terribly long concert, but my old bones certainly wouldn't have preferred to stand for that long. Maybe this was his uninformed version of a mosh pit. If so, he needs help rather desperately.

To the point then: Natalie was fantastic. I've heard a lot of wonderful fiddlers in the last few years, and I think she has moved to the top of the list. Not only is she a great fiddler, but she has stage presence. She remains standing and constantly dances around the stage. And she's also durn purddy. In addition, some fiddle music is better to my ears than other, and she packs a pretty nice, primarily Cape Breton repertoire. Cape Breton music is Scottish in origin and has maintained it's old roots well, so it's pretty authentic, centuries old stuff.



Even with our little 3x optical zoom (which I admit isn't much), this was as close a shot as I could manage. I've outlined Natalie at the bottom of the stage.



So what about the Googley bit, AC? Cause you're losin me man.

Well, a few weeks ago, an ad for the concert appeared on my sidebar in Google Mail, aka GMail. I seldom notice these ads, but I saw this one. For whatever reason, the concert wasn't publicized too much until just a few days ago, so I may not have known about it otherwise.

But wait ... there's more.

I knew that a fellow local blogger, Lorna from Lorna in Wonderland actually lived across from the venue, so I wrote to ask her about parking in that area. She invited us to use her building's visitors parking and to stop in for a pre-concert visit and snack.

So, you see, Google not only provided me with the information about the event but also with company since we both as do all Blogger bloggers blog on a Google hosted service. While Lorna and I have been blog visiting back and forth for several years, we have never met despite living in the same city and each of us knowing approximately where the other is located.

Now we have been able to personalize our relationship a little, and IMO, the visiting went pretty darn well before, during and after the concert over coffee at her place. I think that's where the warm and fuzzy oogley part comes in, but I confess that I am reaching. Here are Lorna and me just before the concert began.



And here is Cuppa, Lorna, and her husband, Dave, during the concert. Both Dave and Lorna were wonderful hosts. I was fairly confident that this meeting would work well as we have done this type of thing a few times previously. I was right; they're a great and hospitable couple.



Finally, here is Natalie in a YouTube clip. It's long, so you won't want to watch it all, but if you don't know her, it will introduce you to a fine, Canadian treasure.

Fiddlin and Steppin

Both stepdancing and fiddling have a large place in traditional Ottawa Valley culture. Previously, I've mentioned and shown clips of both. but we had never attended the Pakenham Fiddle and Stepdance Competition before. So we remedied that this past weekend.

All ages came from all around the province for the event. It must be nice, especially for the younger set, to get together with peers of similar interest and talent. Let's face it, this is a subculture that exists way under the radar of popular culture, so it must be helpful for the kids to know they're not alone, particularly those who come from an urban area such as Toronto.

In any event, a grand time was had by all. At the conclusion, around 11:30 Saturday night, the fiddlers and stepdancers who remained in the hall congregated on stage for an impromptu performance. The fiddlers are lost in the background, but the following short clip shows the stepdancers doing their thing. I'm glad we stayed for the finale. It always amazes me how both fiddlers and stepdancers can put on such a show without any preparation.

Foolishly Putting It Out There ...

... Warts and All

I have been dithering about doing this since I taped these clips several days ago, but here we go — two clips of me playing the fiddle — warts and all. I'm still a beginner who makes lots of mistakes — lot of mistakes — so beware. But what the heck: I've been mentioning my trials on this blog for a few years now, and since we have a vidcam on the computer these days (for Skype-ing), it's easy enough to take a clip and upload it. As you will see, I have trouble getting into a tune, but it goes somewhat better (only somewhat mind you — all is relative) once I get going. I have included a verbal apology in the first clip; Cuppa wanted me to take it out, but I always think that mistakes are made less somehow if one acknowledges them. I want you to know that at least I know that I make them and am not living in a tone deaf fool's paradise. I just can't seem to do anything about the slipups — unfortunately. :)

Fiddlin Country

The Open Up the Summer Kitchen Celidh

cei-lidh: pronunciation [key-lee]
–noun Irish, Scot., and Canadian (chiefly Prince Edward Island).
a party, gathering, or the like, at which singing and storytelling are the usual forms of entertainment

The fourth annual Open Up the Summer Kitchen Ceilidh was held in Almonte on Sunday. Yes, fiddling remains alive and well in this part of the country, and Almonte is one of the centres where this fine tradition continues to thrive. I took a few video clips with our little camera (I guess I should learn to use the kids' proper video camera), so please excuse the quality, especially the sound quality, but I do want to share this experience with those of you who live in areas where such wonderful traditions are no longer extant. (I also blogged about the event two years ago here.)

First up, we have The Barley Shakers. These are the people that I jam with ... more or less. I make this claim modestly because I am only able to play about every fourth song when we get together, and even then I often struggle with the fast tempo. Nevertheless, they humour me and let me continue to hang around the edges. They play great Celtic-style tunes. This clip is only about a minute long.



Step dancing and fiddling seem to go together, and the group called Fusion usually attends festivals such as these, and they were in very good form on this occasion. To many, this form of dance is unfamiliar, but I guess it's related to Irish dancing and clogging although it isn't exactly either of them. This clip runs for over three minutes, but I hope you decide to peek at a bit of it anyway because they're really good.



Finally, I present Andre Brunet, last year's Canadian Fiddling Champion. This clip runs for just under two minutes. He's a great stage presence and enjoys himself immensely. He was the only non-local performer of the day, and even then he only lives a few hours away in Montreal.

Oh Fiddle Faddle!

From that 100-item list of Janet’s, I managed to write five posts on item two, which had to do with sleeping under the stars – five posts about something that I hadn’t done. So, there’s ninety-eight more items to consider, and at five posts per list item of things that I haven’t accomplished …

No, I’m just kidding, but point three asks if one has played in a band. I’m going to say yes … sort of.

Partly, it depends how one might define a band. That’s not easy for me because I grew up understanding it to be a brass ensemble whereas an orchestra was made up primarily of wood instruments like violins. To me, a musical group like the Beatles was just that – a musical group. However, somewhere along the line in pop culture, groups became bands, and that isn’t wrong because group and band are synonymous. I simply have to get used to the terminology.

In the sense that a musical ensemble of any sort is a band, I have played in a band – exactly once. Just over a year ago, I performed as part of the Blue Skies Fiddling Orchestra in their Christmas concert (blogged here). This was part of my delving into the world of the fiddle and attempting to learn to play the dang thing. I’ve mentioned fiddling in this blog on a number of occasions but nothing lately. So what’s up?

Not much. Although I had been participating in the jam (which, keeping consistent with this topic, I guess is kind of a non-performing band) in the early autumn, due to certain commitments and exigencies, I was forced to miss a number of sessions last November. When the missing continued on into December, I decided to wait until the New Year to make my return.

During my period of withdrawal, however, I realized that my arthritic hands and fingers weren’t doing too well, and I began to practice less. The thing is that I need to work on tunes quite a bit before I am close to being up to jam speed, and, since there are so many tunes to learn, that remains problematic. In the event, I haven’t been back to the jam in more than four months.

I still play for my own amusement (or amazement) once or twice a week, and I still really enjoy it when I do. But playing in the jam was hugely motivational for me, and now that I’ve set it aside, for now at least, it’s not the same, and I practice less.

It would be really nice if there was a slower jam for us less accomplished players so that I could still enjoy the band-ishness aspect of fiddling without having to practice endlessly, just to get each tune up to breakneck speed. However, it seems that, around here, even when slow jams been tried in the past, the more accomplished players tend to show up and end up imposing their preferred tempo.

Oh Fiddle Faddle, indeed!

Crazy Fiddlers

As most of you know, I am an unyoung guy but still a novice fiddler. So, when I talk about fiddling, please don't assume anything about pride or prowess. It's part of my current life (something that I'm just taking up as an older beginner) and my life is what I blog about. That's why you get so many photo posts of Nikki Dee — because she's a big part of my life right now.

Anyway, since September, I have been attending a Celtic Jam that is held in a town about a half hour away. I listen a lot as they play tune after tune that I've never heard before, but I know a few of them, and I get to call the tune two or three times a night, so, I keep going. Even when I can't play along, I often feel blessed to be surrounded by people playing this great style of music — yesterday's style (more like our great grandparents' yesterdays for most of us). Actually, I only feel blessed when I first remember not to become agitated and discouraged about my progress or lack of same. But I try to maintain a positive attitude, and I usually succeed.

The thing is that I'm a punctual sort of guy, but when I arrived on the first night, the place was already JAM-packed (I didn't intend to pun on jam at first, but I'll take it). So, I got there somewhat earlier the next night: same thing. Over the weeks, I've kept arriving earlier and earlier because I like to pick out a seat that I like after all — towards the back and right if you please.

Last night I arrived at 7:07 for the jam which was to begin at 7:30. I still wasn't the first to arrive fiddle in hand; there were already three cars ahead of me, and two more pulled in right behind me. Can you think of any other group that gathers so far ahead of time? We do have to go to all of the bother of taking out our instruments, but that takes about five minutes, and we then still have fifteen minutes or so to sit and wait. Is that crazy or what?!

The Stone Frigate

... or Stone Brain

Last night, I went to bed humming The Stone Frigate, which is one of the hundreds of tunes in the [fiddling] jam book that we use. Except that at the time, I couldn't remember the name: just the tune. This morning I awoke with the name in my head, but the tune totally escapes me. I think it would be easier if we had the memory hook of words to go with the tunes, but alas, we don't, and I suffer from all kinds of blocks because of that. More often that not, either the tune or the title eludes me. As I've mentioned previously, names and I don't get along very well.

Anyway, tonight is jam night, and I'll go again ... and do more sitting than playing again. The great majority of tunes are played too fast for me to sight read, so I note them, and try them later at home where I can proceed more methodically.

It would still be nice to have lyrics to associate tunes with, however. It would make it easier on my poor old brain.

Fiddling at the Mill

On yet another gorgeous autumn day, Cuppa and I headed to the Mill yesterday for a walk in the woods. Of course, first we had to stop at Tims for cuppas of coffee — extra large mugs, naturally, and here Cuppa holds both as I take this picture. Down below yo can glimpse a wee bit of the Indian River (sorry, but that's what it's called).



My focal point in the next photo was supposed to be the lighted clearing on the rise in the background, but whether that worked or not, it may give you an idea of just how pleasant the day and our walk were.



Just beyond that rise (above), didn't we find two fiddlers making great use of the day and the setting. What a great idea to head into the great outdoors to make music in the woods by a stream on such a day: great for them and all us passersby. We sat down with them for awhile because it turned out that I knew them both a little; they fiddle at the jam session that I have recently begun to attend. Unlike me who must sit many tunes out, however, they both know them all and can play them in ... uh ... jig time. (Sorry, couldn't resist.)



I hope your day was at least half as delightful as ours, and that you were also in fine fettle even if not in a fine fiddle.

I Done Did It

I stood at the door peering in and just about deciding not to go in. But when Bruce came along heartily encouraging me to enter, of course I went in for that's what I had come to do — go through that door. Except that I hadn't expected it to be that particular door.

Three years ago we moved to this area; shortly after we attended a Celtic Jam Session in a nearby hamlet. That, in turn, nurtured the idea that I had shoved way back into the deep recesses of my brain, the idea of trying to learn how to play the fiddle. I had taken a few violin lessons as a kid, about forty-five years back. And I had kept the violin in the attic for all of those years. Well, it didn't do well in the attic, so sent it off to Goodwill before we moved here.

It had not really been a burning desire to try to play the instrument again; I hadn't gotten very far the first time after all, and then life intervened. But to some extent, I guess I had always felt that I had some unfinished business that I just might get around to attending to someday if the wind blew right. So, moving to this crazy area with its crazy fiddlers and such and then going to that Celtic Jam kind of set the tiny gears of my tiny brain in motion.

That was three years ago, and so two years ago, I rented an instrument and purchased a How To Play the Violin book, and I began to fiddle around — so to speak. And then I took some lessons, all with the knowledge that it was rather too late to become any good at the thing but that just maybe I might be able to participate in a jam session someday — a session like the one that I had attended and enjoyed so much.

So, I've plugged away for two years, mostly on my own, mostly in the basement not too close to the cat's delicate ears — to say nothing of Cuppa's. My teacher says that you really teach yourself, and her job is just to offer a bit of guidance and direction every now and then, but that it's really up to me. And so I've been pretty diligent down in the basement. I even joined a fiddling orchestra last September and played in the Christmas Concert but left it in May. The leaving was for various reasons, one being distance and the other being the concept — basically I didn't want to play for others. I wanted to play with others. There's a difference.

I guess you've figured out where this is heading, eh? Yup! Last night I got to the door of a local Celtic Jam Session ... and was about not to enter ... until Bruce came along almost shoved me through. The reason why I had demurred at the last moment was that they had moved the jam from the private back room of the local restaurant right into the dining room, and I had never wanted to try to play for an audience, particularly not on my first attempt. I know my limitations after all.

But, with Bruce's encouragement, I did enter. It was as I knew it would be. Many tunes were played that I didn't know, and even those that I was somewhat familiar with were played at a breakneck speed that left my fingers fumbling ineptly. But it was okay; I played some notes and nobody heard or cared about my myriad miscues. And when I couldn't play, which was much of the time, I listened and/or hummed and/or whistled, and it was all good.

When it came my turn to call the tune and play at my own preferred speed, I did. Of course, with my luck I picked a tune that few of them knew, and the first verse was, therefore, almost a solo. But I played on and got through it, and I have lived to recount the tale in this little space of mine on the world wide web. It's my story, or a chapter of my story, as I journey through this little life of mine, so I get to tell it as I wish and whether anyone else wishes to hear it or not. Which I just did.

And if you stuck around to read this anecdote to its conclusion, Thanks. It took a bit of courage to get as far as the door, and it took a bit of a encouraging shove to actually go through it, but I did and am a little glad and a little proud: proud that I have made the attempt, not of my playing ability — not that by any means.

PS: I happen to have a picture of the now famous Bruce. I took it at another jam that I attended (to watch) just over two years ago with camera in hand. He's the somewhat out of focus guy on the right.

Sharing the Stage

Let's say that Saturday was an odd one. Friends had told me of a wonderful fiddle workshop in a place called Tamworth, a little settlement almost two hours from here. So, of course, I decided to try it out, long drive and all. Cuppa and Thesha travelled with me, Cuppa because she hates to miss out on anything (in this case the drive), and Thesha to help get Cuppa around while I attended the event.

On the way there, Thesha tremulously queried from the back seat: "Are we taking this way home?" Because we were driving through an uninhabited, forested, winding road at that point. You see, although Southern Ontario is the most heavily settled part of Canada, there is a spur of the picturesque but largely unfarmable Canadian Shield that protrudes down through a part of it. This spur is sparsely inhabited, and that's where we were.

Replied I, "Well we can take road 15 home; it should be better." Well, it wasn't better. It was just as winding as the morning's road, only it was then dark as well. In fact, I think it was more winding and devoid of humanity as the forest creeped right up to the edge of the all-too-narrow road with no other cars on it.

The road was pretty narrow to begin with. One slip in the dark would have careened us into the forest. But then we saw a sign warning that it was about to become narrow(er). Which is when we began to laugh — but not hysterically. Of course not!

So that tells you something of the drive there and back: almost four hours in the car. In the meantime, I attended the workshops, and, while they were quite good, I'd hesitate to claim that they were worth that much effort and anxiety.

But at least I can say I shared the stage with one of Canada's best known fiddlers, Gordon Stobbe. At the end of the day we adjourned to the local hall — the upstairs of a small town legion hall — for a concert by the instructors. We students were offered our moment of glory by showing what we learned during the day. So, there we all are, or those who stayed, at the front of the hall. I've highlighted Gordon and I with arrows. All you can see of me is my chrome dome, but I have witnesses who will swear that it is my chrome dome.



So, I really have shared the stage with Gordon Stobbe.

As we were waiting for the official festivities to begin, some of the more advanced fiddlers had a bit of an impromptu jam session at the back of the hall. I thought that was cool (photo deliberately blurred).


Thesha and Cuppa waiting patiently and prettily.


The silly would-be fiddler and his wife.



While I don't suppose that I will make that trek again next year, I'm glad I made this one-time effort. It was a unique day that I appreciate experiencing.

The Reel

Since I've recently made an attempt to describe jigs and hornpipes, I may as well deal with The Reel as well. But I'm going to take the easy way out by relying on Wikipedia and YouTube. I post it because it completes a train of thought, and there might be a few who would like to know.

A description of the reel from Wikipedia

Reel music is transcribed in 4/4, 2/2, or 2/4 time signature. All reels have the same structure, consisting largely of quaver movement with an accent on the first and third beats of the bar. A reel is distinguished from a hornpipe by consisting primarily of even beats. Reels usually have two parts (A and B); in most reels each part is repeated (AABB), but in others it is not (ABAB). Each part (A and B) typically has eight bars, which in turn are divisible into four-bar and two-bar phrases. The structure follows a scheme of question-answer, where the first phrase is the "question" and the second is the "answer." The group of thirty-two bars (four times eight) is itself repeated three or four times before a second reel is introduced. The grouping of two or more tunes in medleys or "sets" is typical in Celtic dance music. Today many Irish reels are supplemented with new compositions and by tunes from other traditions which are easily adapted as reels. It is the most popular tune-type within the Irish dance music tradition.

Reels are popular in the folk music of South West England. It crossed the Atlantic ocean with Irish and British immigration and thus entered the musical tradition of Atlantic and French-speaking Canada including that of Quebecers and Acadians. Reels are featured in many pieces of Quebec singers and bands; for example: La Bolduc, La Bottine Souriante and even the more modern néo-trad group Les Cowboys Fringants (like the song Mon Pays suivi du Reel des aristocrates).

A sample of the music and dance from YouTube

The Hornpipe

The hornpipe is another style of fiddle tune. It's in 4/4 time and is played as shown above where each of the four beats consists of two parts: the first note being 3/4 of the beat (or a 3/16 note) and the second being 1/4 (or a 1/16 note). The rhythm is rather obvious in the above score; you play it just as it's written. However, it's often not written like that.

Instead, you'll see it written as it is below : a string of 1/8 notes with no dots or sixteenths showing. Except for a few minor variations, such as a pickup to begin, the two versions (above and below) are the same. The three bars above are the same as bars 2 - 4 below. You see, a player is expected to know how a hornpipe goes (ie the dotted rhythm) and play it accordingly.



Of course, this beginner fiddler did not always know that and learned to play several songs as written — as equal 1/8 notes. In fact, I have recently discovered that two of the tunes that I know best, I have been playing incorrectly — in other words as written and not as intended. Silly me. Very often, as directly above, the title doesn't even tell you that it's a hornpipe. Oh well.

Here's how it sounds if someone competent plays it. Like the jig, there's usually both a part A and a part B that are repeated.

In Jig Time

or The Jig is Up

or Jiggy Wid It

There are things that fiddlers take for granted that a neophyte doesn't necessarily know. One these things is the various types of fiddling rhythms. While I have yet to figure them all out, I have finally realized what a jig is. Mind you, realizing the structure in my head is not the same things as playing it. Nevertheless ...

For one thing, a jig seems to always be in 6/8 time as in the score of the famous Kesh Jig, below. See also how's there's a repeat at the end of each line (or section)? That's typical of jigs as well: play part A twice and then part B twice.



The thing that I have eventually discovered, is that you don't play a jig in exactly the way it's written. The three bars that I've highlighted in yellow represent a typical jig pattern — two groups of eighth notes per bar. In 6/8 time, one would think that all eighth notes would be equal, but they're not. In each group of three, the first note (highlighted in red) receives greater emphasis than the other two, almost as if it's held longer than an eighth while the other two are shorter. This results in a different sound and feel than what one might deduce by just looking at the music. In fact, I deduced it incorrectly in a number of tunes that I tried to learn by sight-reading before the light switched on in my tiny brain. Perhaps this type of thing is one reason why fiddlers tend to learn and play by ear rather than by note.

Well ... after uploading a scan of Kesh Jig, I can't find the music that I thought I had. But here's a good example of a tune played in jig time. Sorry to disappoint my legion of fans, but it's not me playing Uncle Jimmy's Jig. One could sing the first line with an emphasis on the underlined portions: Humpty Dumpty sat on a wall diddle-dee doodle-dee diddle-dee doodle-dee. It's the diddle-dee doodle-dee that is so typical. It may not always be this pronounced, but it gives the idea.

Meeting A Fellow Blogger

In a gesture that was extremely considerate, Turtleguy from Calgary dropped into see us yesterday. He was on the third day of a very long trip from Calgary to Quebec City, and despite being only six more hours from his destination, he made a side trip to see us. While it wasn't too much of a detour in terms of distance, it did cost the boy three precious hours of travelling time, so hats off TG.

He was in time for a quick supper that didn't turn out so well and he was soon off again. But first there was time for a quick photo op.



I've met bloggers before, Paul and Julie, and Methatiam and Chelsea, when we were in Arizona two years ago. All meetings have turned out well. Maybe there will be more encounters with more bloggers in the future. Who knows?

---

Update to previous post about Fiddling

Why I didn't think to mention it yesterday, I must put down to yet one more of those increasingly frequent brain cramp. One difference between fiddling and violining is often the length to the bow stroke. Most fiddlers use a short bow stroke most of the time. On the other hand, we tend to picture a concert violinist using a a long, smooth stroke. I have seen some fiddlers who may have been classically trained who practise long bowing, but it's not typical. I'll repost a clip of Natalie McMaster below to illustrate. Just look at her bowing technique for 20 seconds or so to see what I mean.

About Fiddling

Dabrah of Fickle Muse has asked a good question, one that puzzles many, including me not all that long ago. It's about the difference between a fiddle and a violin.

Well, the instrument is exactly the same. It's the style of play that's different. Fiddlers play jigs and reels and hornpipes and such: frequently, though not always, at great pace. Violinists play in symphony orchestras etc. That's an incomplete answer, but I think it gives one the general idea. I think we all recognize fiddling when we hear it, but here are two clip of Natalie McMaster, Canada's most famous fiddler. We have tons of great fiddlers but she's the one who everybody knows. In he first, she plays at the Hollywood Bowl. In the second she demonstrates a song at a fiddling school.

In Arrears

I don't quite know how or why it happens, but all of a sudden I am very behind in both the reading and writing of blogs. For one thing, I have been reading more. Among other books, we had the latest Peter Robinson mystery (Inspector Banks) in from the library. Once Cuppa read it, I didn't have too much time before the due date, so I made it a priority. It was quite good. If you like mysteries, especially British ones, and haven't read this series, I suggest that you consider remedying that.

There have been other events going on too, including a fiddle workshop on the weekend. I had never been to one before, and my flaws were exposed: my brain doesn't process very quickly. I am finding out that fiddling is a different sort of beast. So many players play primarily by sound and memory rather than by sight (ie note). The instructor plays a bar and you are supposed to play it back. While that may work for me for a bar or two, my brain soon refuses to keep adding new stuff until it has mastered the old.

The first instructor took more pity on those of us who prefer the assurance of having sheet music in front of us, but the second was a little more ruthless. Nevertheless, it was an interesting and worthwhile experience despite the fact that I am rapidly coming to the realization that I will always be a beginner in terms of ability level — an advanced beginner, but a beginner nonetheless. I guess that's okay. Well ... it has to be okay. Doesn't it?

There are fiddlers, very accomplished ones, who barely read music. The one instructor that we had on the weekend said that he played for years (I think he said 14) before he learned how to read music. It's just a whole different world. While it's fun to be on the fringes of it, that's where I will remain.