Tech glitch

There were a few technical problems with the blog, so, to the several folks who had sent in comments, feel free to send them again. I was planning to post them, but they were accidentally deleted.

Bagpipes ain’t noise pollution?

During my first few years of playing the Highland pipes, I would practice the full instrument in my backyard, serenading neighbours and total strangers with what had to sound like what the late John D. Burgess would refer to as screaming banshees.

It continued until a neighbour called the police, who showed up and told me to cease and desist. (My parents, being natural PR types, called the local paper a few days later and there was a story about the incident.)

I’m reminded of this because Steven Tripp, a very good piper here in Toronto, writes saying that he is struggling for practice space. He goes to the very famous Mount Pleasant cemetery and has a tune among the graves. But he says that, despite constantly changing locations, he’s been told to stop on eight occasions now by the Toronto Police (which ironically has supported a pipe band for almost a century, and Steven even played with it for a time). Steve says that someone recently threatened to have him banned outright from even entering the cemetery, alive or dead.

Practicing outdoors is an interesting dilemma. On one hand, a player of Steven’s calibre is probably a treat to the thousands of people who can hear him, but one or two grumps with nothing better to do call the police. They’d call the police if Pavarotti were practicing.

On the other hand, I don’t like it when music is foisted on me, whether it’s drum-and-bass played at 11 from a pimped-out Honda Civic or muzak at a dentist’s office. When I practice it’s indoors with the windows closed. When I lived in an apartment I asked a local school if I could use one of its classrooms in the evenings and they kindly obliged.

Practicing outside in a big city is a quandary for pipers and drummers. I think it should be avoided, but others may see it differently.

CLASP solo circuit

What interesting news from Scotland about the launch of the new Competition League for Amateur Solo Pipers (CLASP). (And it’s a good thing they put “Solo” in the name, I’ll tell you.)

It’s the second time that I know of where the UK has taken a North American idea and applied it to their domain. (The first time was when the competitions in London started to use score-sheets, an almost unheard of practice in the UK until then.)

But instead of applying the amateur solo piping system used by many North American associations, CLASP will start things at Grade 3. That means no Grade 4 or Grade 5 levels of novices. You still have to be able to make a musical noise to compete in the UK.

How the Competing Pipers Association will integrate with CLASP, I don’t know, but I’m sure that I will hear and let everyone know the story when I do.

By avoiding novice categories for amateur pipers, is CLASP doing the right or wrong thing? My own belief is that Grade 5 events are not of sufficient quality to be held in public. These events should be replaced by Institute of Piping testing. But I’m interested to hear what others think about this and about CLASP in general.

Reconsidered

A few days ago I wrote that I didn’t much like Coldplay’s new X&Y recording. In fact, after the first listen, I thought that I didn’t like it at all.

Well, after a few more spins I’ve grown to like it quite a lot. There are still a few songs that I skip over, and that falsetto voice is overused, but the musicianship of it is impressive. The songs are mostly enjoyable. It’s gone from maybe a three- to a seven-out-of-10.

Which of course all comes back to piping and drumming. How many of us have heard a top band’s medley and not liked it on first listen? But after a few times with it, you start to hear new things, and you begin to look forward to certain elements. It begins to make musical sense.

Conversely, how often do we love a band’s selection on first listen, but then, after hearing it again and again get annoyed by its predictability? When contending bands trot out the same selection for three straight years it can get really irritating.

It would make a lot of sense to give bands a way to preview their new medleys to judges. Some very fine and sophisticated pipe band selections are not fully understood or appreciated on first listen, and far too often those medleys are heard by both judges and audience at the World Pipe Band Championships for the first time. Because of the need for a positive first impression, bands strategically have to sacrifice musical sophistication for musical predictability.

Perhaps it’s a subtle rule in all art, whether it’s Coldpay’s X&Y, Picasso’s “Guernica,” or Joyce’s Ulysses: the things you don’t understand at first inevitably improve after the second, third, or fourth listen, viewing, or reading.

Predictable art is art that fizzles. Great art requires patience to be appreciated.

More numbers

You hear it all the time. Everyone seems to agree on it. Everyone seems to want it. Everyone thinks that more judges for pipe band contests would make the results fairer.

So why doesn’t it happen?

The typical configuration at a decent contest is two piping, one ensemble- and one drumming. Remarkably, non-Major RSPBA contests have only one piping and one drumming. Even with the four-configuration, that’s quite a bit of power that each judge wields.

Ten judges would be more like it. Doug Stronach at the PPBSO Adjudicators Seminar in May that, whatever the number, each judge should assess ensemble as well. I think that this approach makes sense.

And with 10 judges comprising five pipers and five drummers and each putting down a mark for both piping/drumming and ensemble the result would be equitable.

But, back to the question, why not? Two reasons: associations and contests aren’t willing to pay for it or can’t afford it, and associations simply don’t have enough certified judges to do it.

But, with some planning, it could be done at certain events. The World’s and Maxville would be good starting places. Everyone seems to want it, so let’s find a way to do it.

Think tank

The editorial in the June 2005 print edition of the Piper & Drummer is really an extension of a stream-of-consciousness Blogpipe posting on “authority.”

As it happens, one concept led to another, and feedback from Blog readers helped form more thoughts, and all that came pouring into the final version. I’ve written on similar topics in the past (to be honest, it’s difficult sometimes to remember all of the topics from the 70-odd editorials I’ve written), and this extends the challenge further. (It’s now posted on P&D Online in the Editorials if you’re interested.)

Many people in piping and drumming fear and resist and reject change. I like what we do and our music as it stands today, and it’s always great to hear perfect renditions of things that have been played before. But there’s always room to extend our art and we should never be afraid of that.

I do think that, if piping and drumming had incorporated an attitude that’s more accepting of change, what we do would today be far more popular with and accessible to far more people. Pipe bands really started to accept change about 20 years ago. Solo piping is only now just starting. But it is happening.

Some are frightened and work hard to keep things status quo. Others are excited and energized by new challenges and changes. I know where I stand, do you?

Section sizes

I posted a poll asking if there should be caps on pipe band section sizes. There was one two years ago, too, and so far results show that about 10 per cent fewer people now think that there should be maximum limits than in 2003. The polls aren’t scientific, of course, and maybe it’s the time of the year. Ask the same question in September and people might answer differently.

Here are the pros and cons of putting limits on section sizes:

Pro:
1. More players to go around for other bands.
2. Strengthens the competition community.
3. Levels the playing-field.
4. Makes members practice harder to keep their spot.
5. Shortens tuning time.
6. Lowers band overhead costs.
7. Less travel time for judges walking around the circle.

Con:
1. Stifles natural evolution.
2. Limits creativity.
3. Smaller overall numbers at practices and competitions.
4. Less visually impressive.

At any rate, no association will ever put caps on section sizes unless the RSPBA does it first. Non-RSPBA bands that want to compete at the World’s can’t have their size limited if they want to rate against the UK bands. If Field-Marshal Montgomery (note the hyphen and the single L in Marshal) goes out with 22 pipers, then sure as hell SFU will, too.

Personally, I think it’s a good idea to put limits on sections, but I do admit that there are drawbacks. I just think that there are fewer cons, and the pros are weightier.

In Grade 1, I’d say a maximum 20 pipers, 10 sides, two bass drums and five tenors is reasonable. Bands would have to submit their final rosters two months before the first contest, which allows enough time for players who don’t survive the cut to find other places to play. Grade 2 might be 18, 9, two and four, and so forth.

Capping sections at large-but-not-crazy-large sizes makes sense for all — and especially for the overall competitiveness of the grades themselves.

Boxed in briefs

Just what do band and light music judges carry in those stereotypical briefcases, anyway? I mean, how much room do you need for a pen and a back-up?

Piobaireachd judges I can see needing one. A PS Collection and the Binneas books (and maybe Thomason’s Ceol Mor) require a carrying case. But for all other judges the briefcase can’t be anything more than a prop.

If band and solo light music judges insist, I think that they should go the whole-hog and sport wrap-around sunglasses and handcuff that briefcase to their wrist. Perhaps a supply of Semtex and a detonator button if a performance gets really bad.

I’m going to make it a point to find out what judges have in their briefcases. I’ll report back with the inside dirt about the stuff inside. In the meantime, if anyone has any insights, feel free to share.

Grade ?

It’s still early in the 2005 outdoor season (in the northern hemisphere, anyway), and it seems as if non-Major Grade 1 contests are rapidly vanishing.

So many events that used to attract a decent crowd of Grade 1 bands now seem to stop at Grade 2. If they have a “Grade 1” contest, it’s made up of mostly bands from Grade 2 that are playing up against the one or two Grade 1 band(s) that bothered to attend.

The trend started when Shotts & Dykehead about a decade ago decided that it would compete only at the Major Championships in the UK. It was too much effort and cost too much to get to the minor events.

Sure. But I think that what was really at stake was the fact that at the smaller contests there was much better chance of a “big” band getting beaten by a “small” band. Not only that, but in Scotland – presumably for no other reason but to save a few pounds – the RSPBA appoints only one piping and one drumming judge at the small competitions. No additonal piping and no ensemble. Those two judges therefore essentially call the contest. Two piping, one ensemble and one drumming judge are too few for any event, and having only one piping and one drumming borders on ridiculous. Who can blame a top band for avoiding the risk of damaging their reputation? All it takes is just one of the two judges to miss something or have a hate-on or be in the back pocket of some manufacturer or other. Not that that ever happens.

The non-attendance of top bands at small contests is resulting in gridlock in the UK. The big-name bands stay away from the smaller contests, so the bands that don’t normally get into the top six at Majors don’t get a chance to beat those perceived top bands except at Majors. Consequently it’s desperately difficult and takes ages for bands to break into the upper ranks.

What is it going to take to get the top Grade 1 bands back to the smaller events? More judges? More prize money? Appearance fees? Prestige? Better toilets? A rule requiring them to attend at least X number of non-championships in order to compete at the Majors?

Rainy day instrument

Is there another instrument that’s made for playing outdoors? Because the volume of the Highland pipe and the accompanying snare-drums, band competitions are best outside. It will always be so.

Solo-piping events are, on the other hand, best inside. All the top ones are indoors, except the Thursday events at the Argyllshire Gathering, which are hard to hear and subject to starter’s pistols, sack races, and the unbuiquitous drone of the bouncy-castle’s generator. They have their traditional charms, but they’re nowhere near the stature of equivalent indoor events at the Northern Meeting.

Because pipe bands pretty much have to play outside, they’re subject to the vagaries of the weather. Bands will troop their way through searing Florida heat or horizontal Glasgow rain to do what they do.

But the garb of auld Gaul (or the galling old garb) that we wear is designed for playing outside in Scotland. Ghillie brogues and Glengarrys are designed to drain away rain. Worsted wool and barathea are made to repel wet and keep in warmth. The get-up is made for 12-degrees and rain.

What we wear makes great sense in Scottish weather. Except for the fact that it’s what the public want to see (and that’s important), it makes no sense almost everywhere else. The Scottish Regiments understood this, and there are jungle and desert kilted uniforms to suit the variety of climates in which soldiers operated.

Is it time for pipe bands to get a fashion makeover?

Here today, gone later today

It always surprises me just how quickly well known people can vanish from the piping and drumming scene. Our history is full of folks who did pretty significant things, and then suddenly elected to do something entirely different. When once they were at every event for decades, one day they seem to decide that they’ve had enough and they’re gone from our sight and our psyche.

Occasionally, these people will surface as a spectator at an event. A few veterans will notice them, and maybe you’ll hear one tow folks whispering, “Hey, there’s So-and-so. He once . . .”

It’s like seeing someone who went through drug/alcohol re-hab showing up at a pub drinking only ginger-ale.

I think piping and drumming is for so many such an intense passion that leaving it can only be done cold-turkey, otherwise the addiction will once again take hold. Piping and drumming dependence can be intense, so perhaps some people would rather walk away forever than try to temper their addiction.

Tune-a-thon

I enjoyed listening to the complete light music contest at this year’s Livingstone Memorial on Saturday. It was very different being a non-participant. No heart-palpitations. No schadenfreude. No sweaty palms when the prizes were announced. Goodbye to all that.

In competitive terms, there were a few very good performances, but I enjoyed all of them — that is, once they actually started to perform.

With one exception, every competitor stood there for what seemed an eternity screwing and twisting away at their instrument, sometimes putting out of tune a perfectly tuned bagpipe. The more seasoned competitors at least whiled away part of the time with some nice airs, but others regaled the audience with hemming-and-hawing of the tuning-up variety. One competitor looked like he just didn’t want to compete, seemingly putting off the whole business until the end of the judges’ patience or the end of the world, whichever came first.

Granted, the tuning rooms were reportedly a bit chilly (one player referred to one particularly bad room as “the ice-box”), and instruments were clearly in some flux. But, still, are 10 minutes of tuning notes for seven minutes of tunes any way to treat the judges or the audience? I tend to think that the whole tuning thing is often more ritualistic than functional.

I’d like to see a contest some day that states in the rules, “Competitors are not allowed to touch their drones once they have blown up their pipes.” It would put every player on the exact same ground. It would also put pressure on contest organizers to provide temperature consistency between the tuning-rooms and the main stage. Imagine a pipe band contest where competitors tuned for 10 minutes in the circle before they actually played their medley. Bands would be pelted with beer cans. If Field-Marshal Montgomery’s pipe section can go into the circle sounding like a pipe-organ, surely a top solo piper can do the same.

Eliminating the mind-numbing tuning process would go a long way to making these events more enjoyable, and put the spotlight directly on the music rather than the ritualistic aspects of solo piping.

Vitamin C

My favourite note is C.

Each of my most favourite tunes — “Highland Brigade at Magersfontein,” “Lochanside,” “Donald MacLean,” “Jig of Slurs,” “Lament for Captain MacDougall,” Lament for Mary MacLeod” . . . — favours the C.

It’s a note that’s rarely not true on even the worst chanters with the crummiest reeds. It blends with the drones like no other non-A note. It is happy. It’s futz-proof.

Yes, it’s the C for me.

Tommy Pearston

I didn’t know Tommy Pearston, the co-founder of the College of Piping who died last week, but I knew of him and certainly liked watching him at competitions. He was small in stature and quiet in demeanor, and seemed the exact opposite of Seumas MacNeill, who was tall and skinny and never met a podium he didn’t like.

MacNeill was “Famous Seumas” while Tommy was just Tommy, as far as I knew. I really like the less-known people who make a strong impact on the piping world, and the Piper & Drummer tries to bring these folks to the fore as much as possible. Of course, because of their natural reticence, it’s often difficult to draw them out. Willie Kinnear, Edith MacPherson, and Hugh Cheape are just a few of the less-known people who have been profiled.

For this reason, too, we sometimes overlook those who deserve better. Tommy Pearston would have been a great interview. His side of the College of Piping story and his view of Seumas certainly would have made fascinating and important reading. The fact that Seumas MacNeill, who had so little time for anyone who wasn’t an intellectual challenge, had so much time and respect for Tommy Pearston says a lot about Pearston as a person.

Beth Orton on Central Reservation sings that “Regrets are just things you haven’t done yet.” So, I greatly regret not thinking of Tommy Pearston until now, and it’s too late.

Comic relief?

The piping and drumming world is full of incredibly funny people. Maybe it’s a result being so wound up by competition that pipers and drummers enjoy taking the piss out of most things.

It is funny, though, that we come across as a bunch of humourless pucker-arses to those not in the club. Contests are so often full of long and worried faces,  as if players are about to go over the top of the trench. Pick up any piping publication (with one notable exception), and it’s all terribly serious articles and reporting with a heavy air of “authority.” Not a trace of humour in any of them unless it’s some inside joke with other “authorities.”

It’s a shame that we can’t lighten up a bit more on the outside, like we do on the inside at band practices and at competitions. We are so often a bizarre lot of competitive fanatics and traditionalist zealots. If our extraordinary spectacle isn’t occasionally amusingly absurd, nothing is.

Judges in the truck

Anyone who has been to the World Pipe Band Championships is aware of  BBC Scotland’s remote truck capturing all of the action. The contest rings are lined with wooly and water- and wind-proof microphones. Iain MacInnes and Gary West have, beyond a doubt, the best listening experience on the park since they get to hear each band as a whole, with a perfectly-balanced sound that is consistent from band to band.

Which begs the question: why doesn’t the RSPBA put the judges in the BBC truck or another truck with the same microphone feeds? The judges would then get the full effect of the sound — and only the sound — and could make their judgments without distractions.

After all, if you can’t hear a piper hitching up his bag or a drummer lifting his sticks, then it should not matter. Additionally, putting the judges in the BBC truck would keep bands better focused on their task, with no eyes drifting from the pipe-major’s hands as a judge walks by.

Yes, the judges wouldn’t be able to preen before the crowd and competitors, but any piping and drumming competition is about the music and the competitors and not the judges. It’s not the way things are done, but it’s a way to do things better.

Deep Purple

I teach a 10-year-old beginner just now. He’s on his fifth or sixth lesson and has already concquered GDEs and heavy d-throws.

But last lesson he asked if “Smoke on the Water” can be played on the pipes.

What was intriguing was not the question, but that a 10-year-old is aware of Deep Purple – and why.

Shysters

I like to think that pipers and drummers won’t cheat other pipers and drummers. Piper & Drummer Online is a not-for-profit endeavour, and I created it from my own money. To keep it going, organizations can purchase inexpensive banner ads to pay the bills and, with luck, sock away a bit of capital to plow back in to the site.

But every so often there comes some shyster organization that just doesn’t pay its bill. They are asked repeatedly to settle their account, and they respond with waffling and false promises knowing that we have little recourse to collect.

I’ve toyed with the idea of posting a list of these organizations, but legal counsel has advised against it. What’s a poor, trusting Web site to do?

Pipers and drummers who cheat other pipers and drummers are scum. You know who you are.

Bagpipe-making

I’ve noticed over the last few years a decline in prices for vintage Highland pipes. They just don’t seem to be as in-demand as they once were, and I wonder why.

When I started to learn in the 1970s, my first instrument was a set of imitation-ivory-mounted Hardies. I remember that they took ages to get directly from R.G. Hardie in Glasgow, and when they finally arrived they sported a hide bag that was like a new Rawlings catcher’s mitt: tough as 10-year-old beef jerky. I (or, rather, my dad) specifically wanted a Malcolm tartan bag-cover, but they put on a MacFarlane one instead. The chanter was virtually unplayable with one hole being so badly cut that you needed an extra finger to reach it. Much to-do about all that, and Hardie never really bothered to make it right.

It was clear that, back then, the leading pipe-maker of the time sent a bunch of crap, with crappy service, to young American pipers.

Even though we got that bagpipe, it was pretty much understood by me, my parents, and my teachers that it was only a temporary instrument, that the next step was to find a set of older Henderson, MacDougall or Lawrie drones, and, true enough, I obtained a set of 1950s Lawries a few years later, and another set of 1936 Lawries in the 1990s.

It’s different for pipers now. The North American market is a goldmine, and new pipe-makers seem to be springing up all the time. Vintage instruments are no longer in high demand because pipe-making has become more sophisticated. Makers are producing better instruments designed for a modern, sharper pitch. Perhaps most importantly, makers are being nicer to their customers because there’s vastly more competition and a reputation for bad service can spread faster than cans of beer at a march-past.

Are we in a golden-age of pipe-making, or is the best still yet to come?

Plumage

Around 1986, I read an article in Maclean’s by Canadian columnist Allan Fotheringham in which he remarked that the normal order of things in the animal world is for the male of the species to wear the brighter colours, to be more flamboyant than the female. The female cardinal is brown and black, a lioness lacks a mane . . . you get the picture.

Fotheringham went on to observe that humans are different in that females are the ones to get all dolled-up and, on average, work hardest at attracting with makeup and nice clothes. An exception is the Scots. When it comes to traditional garb, the Scottish male outdoes the female in a major way. The male Northern Celt understands the power of the kilt when it comes to attracting attention.

A few years ago I happened to be sitting next to Fotheringham at a dinner in downtown Toronto. By this time he had been a bit disgraced when it was discovered that he had apparently plagiarized several articles. He wasn’t getting much writing work. But I told him that I was a piper and that I had really liked his observations about the Scots and the kilt.

Seemingly well into his cups he said that he didn’t really remember the article, but thought that the premise was quite good. We discussed the wearing of the kilt, but that to a competitive piper the kilt is a uniform requirement rather than a courting option – at least when one is well-entrenched in the competition system.

Anyway, I’m not sure what all this means, but it may explain in a basic way the dominance of the male in the Highland bagpipe world. Combine the plumage of the kilt with the mating call of the pipe, and it’s only natural that more males than females are initially attracted to the instrument.

To be sure, women are every bit as good at the Highland pipe as men, but it can’t be denied that more males are drawn to play the pipes than females. The spectacle of the kilt and the allure of the sound attract attention. It’s certain mating-magnetism.

Authority

Been thinking about “authority.” It’s a word you hear and read a lot in high-brow piping circles. There must be “authority” to everything we play. Settings of set tunes aren’t acceptable without recognized “authority.” The Piping Times purports to be an “authority” on piping.

I’m all for knowledgable and respected people providing advice and constructive criticism to others, and if that’s authority, great. But in musical terms, what constitutes authority? Who suddenly has a right to be an authority on the way the music should be played? Why do we always try to limit our music to something that has already been done and established and accepted?

I’ve always found it funny that winning certain prizes makes people an authority. Gold Medals won by those who really know only a handful of tunes are suddenly catapulted into “authority” territory, while guys who toiled in the contests for years who know more than 100 tunes and every one of their settings are overlooked.

A friend of mine was asked by a judge after he played in a piobaireachd contest, “Who is the ‘authority’ for the way you played that tune?” His response was, “Me.” It was as if the judge needed some recognized name attached to the tune to award a prize. Not having that gave the judge enough courage to leave my friend out of the prizes. What a crock.

Shouldn’t we stop using “authority” as a crutch for our own broken courage, and simply play and award prizes to the music that we like?

“I fought authority, authority always wins,” sang John Mellencamp before he had the courage to banish the “Cougar” name given to him by music-business “authorities.”

It’s time we banished the word “authority” from piping. It’s creepy.

Retired

A few years ago I wrote an editorial about how difficult it can be for a competitor in any activity to bow out, to call it a day, to git while the goin’s still good. A few people asked, “Were you talking about me?” and my response was generally, no, but if you see yourself in those thoughts, then I suppose it is about you.

Actually, the editorial was mainly about me, and now I think that I have decided to stop competing. It’s been nearly 30 years of tramping the boards, 25 in the open or professional category. (Actually, four of those years I didn’t play in solo competition due to 1) living in a basement apartment with no place to practice, and 2) playing with a band that demanded hours of freaking difficult content to be at my fingertips.)

I can still play well and still get invitations to big contests, but the drive and fire has left me, and my interests are now in my family, travel, biking, golf, baseball, music, and, of course, all the various other piping-related things that I get up to and seem to please many more people than any tune I might play.

It’s not exactly bowing out like Seinfeld or Michael Jordan, when you’re ruling your world, but, then again, I don’t think that I ever jumped the shark, as it were. And we’ve all grimaced at failing athletes and artists who didn’t know when to stop.

I’m fortunate that I am still so involved in the piping and drumming world well beyond solo competing. I’ll have more time for those things, and I’m looking forward to trying to make even more of a difference.

Here’s to the newest generation of solo pipers!

Invitationals

The solo piping world is quickly becoming an invitational extravaganza.  Seeing the results of the annual Dan Reid competition-recital-invitational-challenge reminds me that more and more events are not “open,” but available only to those fortunate enough to be asked to play.

There are still solo competition circuits that enable pipers to gain prizes and rise to the top. But increasingly these aren’t taken seriously. The conditions usually suck. The judging can be iffy. No one really pays much attention to those prizes any more, and, Lord knows, only friends and family want to listen to them.

Looking at the invitiaionals, many don’t have much criteria for invitation. A few, like the Glenfiddich (the granddaddy of them all), are very specific about who qualifies each year, so there is often quite a bit of variety.

But some, like the Dan Reid, seem to be at the whim of the organizers, who quite naturally want to put on the best event to attract the best audience with the least amount of headaches. Organizers want safe and sure performers – pipers who behave themselves, show up on time, and wear a pressed kilt.

Our best performance venues continue to move from competition to concert stages. Right now, we’re entering a hybrid state, where many events want the best of both. Who can blame them?

Ulster ouster?

What’s going on in Northern Ireland? Two bands — Bleary and Quinn — say that they can’t get enough players together to field a competitive group. Meanwhile Ulster bands dominate every grade in the UK. Is it really a case of numbers or simply people not getting along?

Seems a shame that these two bands, with such histories of success, have to fold up while all around them is a rich pool of pipe band talent.

Pipe dreams

For the past few days I’ve had similar dreams about piping. They aren’t exactly nightmares, but they have been quite exciting.

The common thread in them is that I am at a solo piping contest. It’s some sort of highfalutin invitational event where everyone is supposed to play to some great standard. The extra dimension in each dream is that I don’t know any of the tunes that I have submitted. I don’t even have a clue as to how they go, and I’m sweating trying to figure out what to do before I have to play.

The contest episodes are preceded and followed by lots of adventures in Scottish-types of places. Last night I was riding a bike through what seemed to be a cliff-side sheep-track on a Hebridean island. I never actually fell, but there was always the threat of disaster — sort of like the not-knowing-any-of-the-tunes situation.

To add to that, Neil Mulvie was in it. I haven’t seen Neil for a few years now, but in the last dream he was really fulfilling his usual dignified educated gentleman role. But, then again, I seem to recall him trying to knock me off of my bike.

Hugh MacCallum called having to learn the set tunes year after year “the treadmill.” Maybe it’s more like trying to ride a bike along a sheep-track on the side of a cliff with someone constantly threatening to push you over the edge.

Any Freudians out there?