Hey, B

The B gracenote in grips, taorluaths and crunluaths from D make no sense and without doubt started as a practical joke by someone who could only talk, and could never actually play, a good tune.

If Scotland’s Joint Committee, which meets on October 30, wants to do something really positive for piping, they would decree that said technique from D will now require not a B gracenote, but a D. Settle it once and for all. Put the B back where it belongs: in the 20th century.

The treacherous B gracenote is an asinine convention that does nothing for the music and serves only to provide an easy excuse to put a piper out of a competition.

Ban the B.

Single-parent piping

Last week my wife had to go out of town on an eight-day business trip so I was looking after our five-year-old-daughter, Annabel, on my own. Neither of us are from Toronto, or even Canada, so the nearest relative is about 600 miles away.

I’ve been a temporary single-parent before and of course my wife has many times. But this time for some reason really made me realize that participation in piping and pipe bands are simply not feasible for single parents of young children. That might explain why there are so many families involved in the pipe band scene, at least in North America, and why so many marriages are strained when one spouse goes off to play in practices and contests and concerts while the other looks after the kids.

I can’t think of an instance of a single-parent involved in the pipe band scene whose son or daughter is not also directly involved. I’m sure it exists, but it must be extremely rare and, if you’re out there, full credit to you for being able to juggle your hobby and passion while also being a good parent.

This Mortal Coil

Pat Hayes‘s sad, untimely and unfair death can’t help but make one pause for reflection about how fragile life is for us all. Having last seen him only a month ago in Glasgow, he was his usual energetic, strong and positive self. I will always remember his firm handshake, his stentorian voice, and his love of piping. My heart pours out to Andrew and the whole Hayes family: good piping people.

It’s hard on the bigger piping community to lose such a contributor. Anyone who finds time to organize events and lead groups like Pat did so willingly is invaluable. I always recognized his efforts, and always let him know that they didn’t go unnoticed or unappreciated.

I was also always impressed by Pat’s support of his son, Andrew, in all things piping. Ever since I’ve known Andrew as a 13-year-old amateur piper (his Cardinals cap catching my eye at Georgetown games c.1990), Pat was omnipresent at contests that he competed in. He often seemed directly linked to the success and failures of his talented son. It’s great to see a parent come out to support a son or daughter. Until my daughter was born I never fully appreciated that or completely understood what my own father was up to when he tagged along to contests that I played in.

As a prominent piper wrote to me last week before Pat died: “he’s one of the good guys.” Here’s to fathers and mothers supporting sons and daughters, and to everyone in the piping and drumming family supporting each other.

A decade

Haven’t posted an entry in a number of days due to . . . a combination of forgetting and sloth. Inverne — I mean, Aviemore is done and dusted and well done to Donald MacPhee on his win. A very fine player who I think sometimes does not get as many prizes as he might deserve. Then again, he has won a wheelbarrow-full of awards over the years. Anyway, well done to him and to Euan MacCrimmon.

Friday was my 10th wedding anniversary. In 1995 my wife Julie and I got married at in Edinburgh with lots of piping and Strip the Widdows and general bevying. We took the day off on the 9th to celebrate. As an example of just what a great woman Julie is, we played 18 holes of golf, even though she hadn’t played really since before our daughter, Annabel, was born. Beautiful weather in Toronto and J got around in 100. My girl can play.

Anyway, just something to get the Blogpipe re-started.

Ensemble and drumming

Many e-mails have been received from people responding to the 2004 article on ranking spreads that was reposted after the World’s. As the article discusses, the most common confusion is about two piping judges being far apart. But if input from readers is an indicator, radically different drumming and ensemble rankings are also a huge cause for concern.

There seem to be lots of cases of a band being very high up in drumming and much lower in ensemble, and vice-versa. It begs the question, what use is drumming if it doesn’t help the overall appeal of the band? If the drum section is supposed to accompany the pipe section, and if its sole purpose is to enhance the music, then why do drumming judges continually reward the technical over the complementary?

If the late Johnny Cochrane were a drumming judge, perhaps he’d remark, If the score don’t fit it, you must say “Quit it.”

Complaints dept.

I heard a “news” item the other day about a survey of who the world’s biggest complainers are. The Swiss came in a first, the British second, Australians third, and Canadians a solid fourth. Not sure how the data was derived, but I’m surprised that Canada is so low on the list.

I don’t mind people who complain – as long as they actually try to do something about whatever it is they’re complaining about, and they’re not complaining about something, like the weather, that can’t be helped. I constantly complain about inert complainers, so I complain to them that they should trying doing something about whatever it is they’re complaining about rather than just complain. Follow?

Americans are great, productive complainers. Most Americans will complain about something but then demand that it be changed. They’re also not afraid to be heard. Canadians, on the other hand, will often just mutter to themselves and stew in their mysery, afraid to create a scene or be any trouble to anyone. Most Americans revel in confrontation; most Canadians avoid it at any cost.

And that is the single biggest culture divide between Americans and pretty much the rest of the world. Inert-complaining Europeans and Canadians, like the Swiss, can’t understand how Americans will actually demand that they get what they want, and follow through on their complaining with action.

The piping and pipe band world(s) are full of complainers who don’t like many of the antiquated, unethical and often bizarre customs we face. The most progressive associations are the ones where complaining comes with the courage to be heard and to act to make positive change.

If and when American piping and drumming eventually leads the world, that will be one the main reasons why.

Cuppa

Just thinking about tune titles. A good tune title is hard to beat. I can’t stand the jokey, hokey ones that generally get put on tunes that are as bad as their names. A great tune always but always has a good name. A bad tune title makes me lose interest in the tune fast.

My favourite name for a tune is “A Cup of Tea,” which was applied to the really excellent two-parted reel. Anyone who drinks tea knows that there’s sometimes nothing better than a cup of tea. It goes down quickly. It quenches thirst, makes you want another cup, but more than just the right amount is too much.

The tune rolls off the fingers. It’s just the right length, and you want to hear it again, but three times gets a bit much.

Of course, there’s also the expression Not my cup of tea. But the reel and title and a cup of tea itself are mine. Perfect.

Miles better

Glasgow really is a great city. My comments before were just a few observations, and, yeah, they were a bit negative. As with things like that, the positive sometimes gets overlooked. Here are some very positive things about Glasgow, at least to me, for whatever they’re worth:

Even with the long red-light-waits, it’s easy to get around by car or, even better, on foot. What’s more, people don’t mind walking, which is far different from Toronto where people often drive a block to get a pint of milk.

Style. Glasgow does have great style. People are more interesting and friendly than other parts of Scotland, and certainly more friendly than most Torontonians.

The parks. Glasgow Green, Kelvingrove, Bellahouston. Glasgow has lots of green space.

Very few Scots talking with an English accent. Edinburgh’s got lots of Englishified Scots claiming to be proud to be Scottish, but Glaswegians are proud to be and sound like like they’re from Glasgow. Is what it is.

It’s where my mother was brought up. She was raised right in the city around WW2 and weathered that storm except for a brief evactuation to the Pitlochry area. She went to Glasgow University. I’m half-Weegie and will never forget that, zombies, smog, four-quid lattes and all.

Glasgow air

Over for the World’s was the first time in years that I’d spent more than a few hours in Glasgow. The place holds true as a grimy and polluted place. A few things struck me:

Red lights. Glasgow could be a lot less smoggy if it changed the wait-time for cars at red lights. I mean, you sit there for three, even four, minutes at some intersection waiting for the light to change. Most cities you can get ticketed for letting your car idle for more than three minutes. Edinburgh has the standard two minutes. No wonder everyone’s wheezing.

Bike lanes. There are  bike lanes everywhere in Glasgow, but no one seems to use them. Maybe it’s because they’re about a foot wide and run along glass-strewn, puke-splashed gutters. Besides, who wants to be stuck at red lights inhaling car exhaust growing old waiting for the thing to change?

Auberge de whoozits. Seems like every other eatery has some ersatz Italian or French name, where coffees cost three pounds and your best Troy reed. Give it up. It ain’t Milan, it’s Glasgow.

Zombies. Dawn of the Dead is just a movie, but Friday and Saturday nights Glasgow city centre is like the real thing. People are so stinking and violently pissed out of their heads it’s hard to tell if they’re of the same species. Everyone seems to be chucking booze down their hatch as if an a-bomb is headed for Buchanan Street.

But, really, it’s a lovely city.

Good faith no more?

We pipers and drummers work on good faith and trust most of the time. We trust judges to render decisions that are unbiased and ethical. In good faith we give our money to our association so that it will do the right things for us. We trust manufacturers and dealers to deliver the goods that we usually have to pay for up front.

Pipers and drummers don’t screw other pipers and drummers.

So when a large supplier of piping and drumming supplies goes under, taking with it lots of debts not just to major manufacturers but to ordinary pipers and drummers — 100 pounds here, 100 pounds there — it diminishes our faith and trust in our fellow pipers and drummers. Our small world starts to operate in big-world terms, where everything is a business, and everyone is suspicious of everything.

Reputable organizations get dragged down by it. We become even more skeptical and suspicious of each other.

I’ve said for ages that piping and drumming is big business, with lots of money at stake. Previously, it’s been buyer beware when non-pipers and drummers are merchandising our music and culture. I still thought that pipers and drummers could still get through by using our trust and good faith in our fellow pipers and drummers.

We’re in this – whatever it is – together. It’s too bad that our trust in each other has been suddenly eroded.

Jottings from GLA

A fantastic day at the World’s yesterday. The Grade 1 standard was extremely high. The day stayed mostly dry after a wet start, the beer tents were well-stocked, and the results came out quickly.

There are tons of things to talk about, but, for now, here are a few stand-out items:

• SFU’s medley. This was I think the best contest performance that I’ve ever heard from a pipe band. The overall band sound was unreal, and the band’s rendition of Mark Saul’s “Emancipation” was a visual and aural treat. Brill. Ee. Ant.
  

• Manawatu’s pipe section. Some of the best pipe band moments are hearing a band that you have modest expectations from, and then end up super-impressed when you actually hear them. A crystal-clear, perfectly-set sound in three performances got my attention. I wasn’t as close as the judges, but I’m pretty sure that I would have scored them higher in piping all three events.
  

• Ballycoan: see above. This is an extremely good band that seems to have all the marks of a young FMM. Sound to spare.
  

• The growing internationalism of the World’s. Bands from Spain, Oman, and Pakistan were there just to be a part of it. This lends a real festive aspect to the event.
  

• The Grade 1 qualifier. This was a very low-energy event. Lots of very careful playing, and bands seemed to be going through the motions. With the exception of Dysart’s “Leaving Lunga,” it was pretty much the same old hoary band-chestnuts being trotted out, including umpteen “Blair Drummond”s. It would seem to make a lot more sense for everyone to make this a medley.
  

• Connectivity. Ironic that I can get the results posted as they’re announced when I’m 3000 miles away, but being right there there was too much “noise” (or something) to get a wireless connection to the net, somethign that had worked great all week. Sorry, readers, I tried.

I’ll be back with more scribblings later.


 

$andwich

Glasgow’s getting more European by the day. Here’s a highfallutin sandwich that cost almost eight pounds.

Brilliant

Buchanan Street, Glasgow, Aug. 10, 2005. Brilliant.

Gowf with pipers

A fabulously sunny day in Edinburgh for a round of jet-lagged golf with a few piper friends. Golf in Scotland is so different from the game anywhere else — faster, less serious, more recreational. Add a few guys who are much, much better pipers than they are golfers to the mix and the result is a great four hours.

Lots of mainly unprintable scoop about bands and soloists, who’s doing what and how, as the World’s nears. If this weather holds it will be a great contest under ideal conditions.

Up north tomorrow for a more Highland game and compiling piping content for the next year.

Saturday morning

A really fine Saturday morning in Toronto. Here’s a shot of where I was sitting, reading the paper, wondering what the weather’s like In North Berwick. That’s all.

Jottings from Maxville

Couldn’t imagine a better Maxville: perfect weather, just about everything ran on time, massive crowds, new buildings and landscaping, and several top-grade bands in top form.

Things I’ll remember:

• Windsor Police dominating Grade 2. If they play as well as they did Saturday, the band should do very well at Glasgow Green.
  

• The air that City of Washington played in its medley: terrific harmonies with overtones that were positively goose-bumpling.
  

• 78th Fraser Highlanders finish: the band’s rendition of Godon Duncan’s “Upside Down at Eden Court,” reprised from its ’04 World’s medley is riveting.
  

• Glengarry’s medley: a great way of making older tunes new again. “Alan MacPherson of Mosspark” – all four parts – and “Lucy Cassidy” to open and to end in jig-time seem to strike the current musical retro-zeitgeist.
  

• Alistair Aitken – a knowledgable and honest gentleman. It was a pleasure to work with him.

There are many other things that I could list, but those are the ones that pop in to mind first. Your mileage may vary, as they say.


 

Gold-plated diapers

What pipe bands need: Bruce Dickinson and more cowbell —

Friendly confined

Talk to any piper or drummer older than 55 anywhere and they will all say that, until the 1980s, there was much more socializing and camaraderie between rival bands and players. In Ontario they always talk about how everyone camped at the games, had impromptu ceilidhs the night of the event, then played softball or football on Sunday. In Scotland they talk about band socials where other bands would support each other more.

And then they remark how today everyone just goes home, and hardly even socializes with the competition – the enemy – even in the beer tent.

Why have things changed so? Has what we do become strictly about winning? Are the high-stakes of the World’s and Maxville and Oban and Inverness becoming such that we have no time to have fun?

Your inner-Lance

As a keen road-cyclist, I was right into the Tour de France, watching the live coverage every morning. I cycle to work (about 12 km) each day through Toronto traffic and my wireless computer tells me that I average about 25 km/hour, and can reach a maximum of about 65 km/hr in one spot on the way home. That’s about courier-speed and the hour of riding each day is a work-out.

On the longer, flatter races on The Tour, the average speed is usually around 50 km/hr and they occasionally reach 100 on some downhill stretches. And that’s over four- or five-hour rides. It’s truly mind-boggling.

Lance Armstrong’s people have done a good job dispelling any notion of him artificially enhancing his performance. They coordinated an independent medical study on his physiology and publicized the results. The study was done by experts in the field who are also keen cyclists. Armstrong would appear to be some kind of uber-human, able to pump far more blood and consume more oxygen than just about anyone on earth. His natural metabolism combined with his training regimen make him virtually unbeatable.

Which of course leads to piping and drumming. Wouldn’t it be great to do a similar study on, say, Willie McCallum or Stuart Liddell or Jim Kilpatrick or even our own Armstrong, Chris? Is there something in their physiology that makes them do the things that they do with their bagpipe or drum so consistently?

Yes, of course they’re bound to practice like mad, but dozens of others who practice more, who compete or perform at the same level, don’t get the same results.

There must be a piper out there who could conduct such a study. The research on Armstrong basically indicated that, as long as Lance stayed on his bike, no one would touch him. Perhaps the same sort of conclusion could be made after studying our greatest players.

But, then again, since we’re not scoring goals, racking up points, or being timed, we’d have to conduct a follow-up study on the subjective brains of judges.

Grand Slamming

You just knew that it would come to this.

But, first, a bit of history.

The 78th Fraser Highlanders are the 25-year-old band based in Toronto. The surviving members of the former General Motors Pipe Band got uniforms and a bit of sponsorship money from the 78th Fraser Highlanders, a group of mainly society folk into re-enactment and wearing the bright orange 78th Fraser tartan, tam, retro-tunics and tartan socks. The new band named itself the 78th Fraser Highlanders and won the World’s six years later. “The Frasers” have had no real sponsorship tie with the historical group for at least 15 years, and even created its own “78th Fraser Highlanders Pipe Band” tartan (a brilliant idea, if I do say so) in 1997. The band got permission to keep the name.

The 78th Highlanders Halifax Citadel Pipe Band is about five years old. The band was the Halifax Police for many years and, as with the General Motors situation, found new sponsorship from the Halifax Citadel, a major tourist attraction and historical re-enactment thingmee in Nova Scotia. To get the benefit of the sponsorship, the band had to change its name to the 78th Highlanders. No “Fraser” in the name, since there’s no “Fraser” in this particular historical group. Fair enough.

So, what has it come to? Well, both bands are competing in Scotland again this year, and both bands are playing at Bridge of Allan. The RSPBA has made the draw for the contest, and, lo and behold, the two bands play back-to-back. Not only that, but the RSPBA has listed the 78th Highlanders Halifax in the draw as the 78th Fraser Highlanders Halifax Citadel.

While North American judges seem to be used to the notion of two bands having similar names, the same might not be true of RSPBA judges and administrators.

There was a time in the 1970s when there were two bands called Denny & Dunnipace. Both were Grade 2. Both were teased with the “Dummies That Didnae Place” name by jealous rivals. One was from Denny, near Stirling, Scotland, and the other from Washington, DC, where the closest thing to the name is a “Denny’s” on Highway 66 near Fairfax. The bands met a few times at the Inter-Continental Championships in Toronto. No word whether they shared a Grand Slam Inter-Continental Breakfast at the Denny’s off of the QEW.

Anyway, it will be interesting to see if there’s any confusion at Bridge of Allan, or the World’s for that matter. My guess is no. The two bands couldn’t look more different and their musical styles and sound are like chalk and cheese.

But, if the 87th Cleveland Pipe Band manages to get to Grade 1, dyslexic judges will have to be monitored very closely . . . or is that loosely . . .

Cheape’s

Watching the Open Championship (or, the “British Open” as North Americans call it) at St. Andrew’s reminded me of a little known bit of piping trivia.

There’s a bunker on the second hole named “Cheape’s.” It is in fact named for the grandfather of Hugh Cheape, the well known piping historian (who is also the grand-nephew of Brigadier-General Ronald Cheape of Tirroran).

To have a bunker at St. Andrew’s named for your family — how cool is that?

Loco motives

A ton of correspondence comes through the sumptuous P&D offices every day from pipers and drummers of every ability, from everywhere. I can’t help but notice how many of them say how they’re “crazy busy” with everything, running around to band practices, their own practices, judging, teaching, workshops, whatever. And so many of these folks are doing all of that piping/drumming stuff in their spare time.

Why are so many of us willing to drive ourselves to the point of exhaustion? And for what? Our name in a prize list? A hundred bucks? Beer-tent glory?

I’m one of those people, too, and I’m not even playing, except for giving a lesson or two a week and the odd band practice with The Odd Band and the occasional twiddling on the chanter of The Odd Tunes. Add all the other piping stuff (about which I won’t bore you again) I’ve been busier than ever this summer.

What is it that drives our obsession?

Slim J.

I note that on the “This Day in History” feature on the Web site is something about the birth of Slim J. Woulie in 1967.

Slim J. is a little-kent piper from Argyllshire said to have a direct blood-line to John McLellan, Dunoon. Slim reportedly left active piping at the height of her career to become a scientist for NASA or something, which was a great loss for our world, but a great gain for innovation.

If anyone knows anything further about the legendary Slim fae Dunoon, please write in.

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.