Monday 30 June 2008

After a 9am visit to the physio this morning, I was powering through my worklist for the day, discussing the details of arming a burglar alarm with our very efficient electrician, when the phone rang and it was Andrew to say that our gig at the end of the week had just been cancelled (not by us, I hasten to add). So my worklist got replaced with a different, equally well-populated one.  I'd done so much by 11am this morning, I already thought it was Wednesday. Time to slow down a bit.

Thursday 26 June 2008

A moment's silence please for the passing of Andrew's old Mercedes estate after 240 000 miles. In amongst all the other things going on today, we managed to fit my harpsichord into his new Vauxhall Chlamydia (I can't remember what it's really called).

An entertaining email correspondence is under way with Barb Jungr which just might lead to something very interesting indeed.

Saturday 21 June 2008

I'm just home from a splendid hour and a half in the Britannia Panopticon which I've always wanted to go to, hearing Stu Brown and co. playing Raymond Scott tunes, which I've always wanted to hear live. My face aches from grinning at such insanely happy music. The theatre is largely intact if dilapidated, and the acoustic is just fantastic. It's all wood after all: dating from 1857, it's probably the oldest surviving music hall in the world. I found out about it 20 years ago when playing the piano in Tom McGrath's play about Laurel and Hardy - Stan Laurel's father Arthur Jefferson was its manager for a while, and Stan made his first stage appearance there aged 16.

On Thursday as I was leaving the house Timo Alakotila called to remind me that we were going to write something for our concert on 5 July - ah yes ... joining JPP on stage is something else I've always wanted to do. 

And we're going to squeeze in a quick visit to Ardkinglas the night before - you can be in the audience for that select gathering on the evening of the 4th by calling the Estate Office. 

Wednesday 18 June 2008

I'm stuck here at home waiting for a promised deputation of builders to come and replace the window broken in April. After they've kept us waiting for 2 months, what's another few hours?

Monday was the first productive work day I've had in ages, as my dad has been undergoing major surgery - he's still in hospital, coming out the other end of post-pump psychosis, which is a huge relief. After all the public money that went into the building of the then Abu Dhabi-owned private HCI hospital in Clydebank, it's good that the NHS got it in the end - staff and facilities are very impressive indeed.

On Monday I made some headway on the setlist for our 5 July concert: with a bit of luck, we might manage to fit in a gig on the 4th too. We've just heard that our recording of Hertel concertos with Mark O'Keeffe is going ahead, so we now have to work out where, when and for how much. And I've been granted a scholarship by the Harold Hyam Wingate Foundation to do some research at Edinburgh University next year into the historical accompaniment of Scottish fiddle tunes.

Now, if anyone out there knows why my Proteus VX plugin now crashes Cubase every time I try to run it, could they let me know? 

Thursday 5 June 2008

The big research funding application that's been taking up my every spare synapse for the past few weeks finally got submitted today, with 25 minutes to spare (whew! - well done Bill). It had seemed quite straightforward to begin with, but today we looked at the bottom line and once all the various overheads had been added in, we were asking for nearly half a million quid. In a hurry. So now I have to forget about it completely as we won't find out if we're successful until January.

Last night I flew back from a really interesting gig at Hatchlands Park with Katharine Fuge, where I got to play the virginal that Purcell maintained for Charles II in Whitehall Palace. Here are some things I learnt yesterday. 1) Purcell's keyboard music is sparse in texture for a reason. I'd thought that Gibbons would sound good on the instrument too, but in fact it came across as rather congested and dense, certainly in comparison to how it sounds on the Ruckers harpsichord in Edinburgh. 2) James Oswald's 'The Parting Kiss', which Kathy sang as an encore only having seen it about 45 minutes before, is a really wonderful song. 3) Doing a concert when on antihistamines (Kathy also has a new cat who made my nose run) is quite strange. I was pleasantly woozy, which was really quite nice. 

Alison came along to listen and after lunch, Mark Ransom took us around the collection so that I could play the instruments, in particular a great wee Irish spinet, a clavichord with a phat bass, a really nice Zenti Italian, and the ridiculously opulent Ruckers/Hemsch, which demands that you play big grand gestures on it - I settled on some Balbastre. We even had time for a walk around the substantial park before the dash to the airport. 

Saturday 31 May 2008

In the post today came a copy of Matthew Gelbart's extremely interesting new book - to my shame I hadn't even realised it existed until John Butt told me about it a couple of weeks ago. So this morning I lay in the hammock in the shade of the plum tree and opened it, to find on the acknowledgments page that Matthew thanks me for 'stimulating conversation'! I wonder what it was about. Anyway, it's a fascinating read which got me thinking in all kinds of directions. There's just a chance of a Vortex 3 gig in Boston before the year is out, so I wonder if we'll have the chance to continue the conversation then.

My favourite listening of the week was 'Body Crash' by Buy Now.

Wednesday 28 May 2008

It's a very wet day here, the first for weeks. It will probably rain for all of June now, to maintain the average West of Scotland level of damp.

All of my free time's been taken up recently with a big research proposal, but today I'd better also do some preparation for next Wednesday's concert at Hatchlands with Kathy Fuge, when I get to play the John Player virginals that once belonged to Charles II.

If you're in Scotland, make sure you watch this on Friday: what's not obvious from the trails on BBC2 here is that the film is by Thomas Riedelsheimer and the music by Evelyn Glennie and Fred Frith, the team behind this. Thanks to Fred for the heads-up on that one.

A useful tip from a different Evelyn in my Alexander lesson this week: even if you're right-handed, put your mouse on the left hand side of your computer keyboard. It will then be much closer to the QWERTY part of the keyboard (there's no number pad on the left to get in the way) and your mouse-using arm will be less extended when doing all the fiddly repetitive movements that it has to do. The side-effect is that it also makes you use the mouse less, and keyboard shortcuts more, which in the long run speeds you up.  Assuming that your software is well enough written not to be too mouse-driven of course ...

Tuesday 27 May 2008

More new artwork - some jpegs in my email today of the design for our forthcoming 7" single. And it looks fantastic. We hope to have product in time for my trip to Boxwood in July.

Thursday 22 May 2008

The Red Red Rose in its remastered and repackaged version is now for sale here!

Saturday 17 May 2008

Yes, it was me last night on the radio asking Vic Galloway questions about the Caledonian Forest, and making him dance to this. But then dancing round a radio studio like an idiot (or a Mud roadie) is as good a way of spending Friday night as some I could think of.

This morning I recorded a jingle which was meant to be in the style of Napalm Death, but as I'm far too old to be able to do that, it came out more like Led Zep-lite with laryngitis.

Later on, reading Alan Bennett's diaries in the hammock, I was pleased to find that he enjoyed the contents of the Ardkinglas House bookshelves as much as DG and I did a few weeks ago. In 1996 when ConCal played at the Northlands Festival, I was in another Scottish country house with Alan Bennett, but I was too starstruck to make any conversation other than necessary pleasantries, and I got the impression he'd rather have been staying in a modest B&B down the road anyway. Come to think of it, now I remember he was. But I did get to put my name in the visitor's book under his.

Wednesday 14 May 2008
flying north from Luton, surrounded by noisy coughing
I'm heading back home after a very quick visit to London for an interview today about potential research funding.

Yesterday I travelled down by train during the day for the first time in years, a far more civilised and responsible mode of travel. It just takes bloody ages. I stayed at Alison's last night and got to see her recent eBay purchase of an 18th century cello, which after close inspection by an expert today, turned out to be a brand new and very clever fake. That's going back to the dealer then.

I built just enough slack into the day's schedule to visit my favourite 'gentlemen's outfitters', Burrows in James St, where the knowledgeable Scots guy behind the counter writes out receipts by hand, and the changing room is basically a cupboard. It's always a treat: they get shirts dyed for them in a wonderful assortment of colours, so I took away some yellow, red and orange for the summer, and some stripy socks.

I'm lucky they've let me on the plane at all, as when I reached in my pocket for ID at boarding, I realised that I'd brought Helen's passport by mistake. It could have been a long night going back to London and getting the night train home. Fortunately I still have a BBC ID pass with my photo on it, so I brandished that instead and tried to look confident and relaxed. 

Tuesday 13 May 2008

Nostalgia corner ... Writing with a proper pen requires decent paper, and on my bookshelves I found this, one of a boxful rescued from the cupboards of a Glasgow school a few years ago. It's the kind of jotter I wrote in at primary school: an 'F0' (you can guess what we called it) was completely blank unlined paper inside with no margin. And good paper too. If I remember rightly, C0 had a margin, F1 & C1 and F2 & C2 had lines, and F3 (or was it F4?) was graph paper. Note the cheery message on the cover of every one.

Even in the 1970s, we found the idea of following a 'hoop' or 'playmate' into the street a bit laughable. But it does show how back then it was accepted was that cars had permission to take over the city and make it a dangerous place. 

The Red Red Rose CD should be back in stock next week with its new cover.

Sunday 11 May 2008
in the garden, in the company of a pair of collared doves
On Friday I returned to the School of Scottish Studies Archive and had a fascinating couple of hours listening to old recordings of accompanied fiddlers. One temptation in these circumstances is just to sit and enjoy some great performances rather than analysing the great and the less great. So I rationed myself to two sets of tunes by Tom Anderson and the astonishing Peerie Willie Johnson. But elsewhere I found some wonderfully crooked piano playing, which reminded me very much of recording Pigeon on the Gate in Montreal a couple of years ago, except that here it was the accompaniment that was crooked rather than the tune.

On the way home I looked into the exhibition of comics at the National Library, to be surprised (I think) to find that most of the titles in the 21st century graphic novel section are already on my bookshelves at home. After the train journey west, I finally picked up my bike wheel with its new rim from Carl at BikeLove: it's good to have my big bike running again after a few weeks on the Dahon. I saw another Dahon Ciao on the road today, but as I was in a car I couldn't stop and compare notes with the rider - serves me right for driving. I was returning from the computer shop after having to buy a new monitor after mine gave up the ghost suddenly at about 11pm last night. I'd hoped someone would repair it, but no-one could see the point. It's very frustrating having to take it to the recycling centre instead, when it's probably only a couple of tiny components that have blown.

That was the end of a day of technical irritation - my copy of Cubase LE has refused to work for a few days, so yesterday I spent an hour and a half uninstalling and reinstalling lots of Steinberg software until it all worked like a dream once more. Six hours later it had had enough of being co-operative and went back to stubborn refusal, just before the monitor blew in sympathy. A background irritation but a large one, as it means I can't record any music. I suppose that if I wanted full technical support I should cough up several hundred quid for the full version of Cubase, but I like the principle of home-made things being low budget. The principle's fine, but the practice can be problematic. One of the mic amps in my E-mu 0404 interface seems to have given up too. 

So this morning I cut the grass while listening to Stephen Fry's podgrams and now I hope I'm finally going to get back to doing some work. I'll start outside with pen and paper. Technology can wait.

Wednesday 7 May 2008

From Robert Fripp's diary, 11 April:
Turn a seeming disadvantage to your advantage.
The greater the seeming disadvantage, the greater the possible advantage.
Fripp's aphorisms can be very useful. In the last week for different reasons we've lost two members of the band from our July gig in Fife, but DG's being free has meant that we can convene as an expanded 'Vortex 3' instead, which probably fits the occasion better anyway. All still to be decided.

I've been reading Kath Campbell's excellent book The Fiddle in Scottish Culture, in the comfortable company of the new CD Sylvain sent me of him playing the Balcarres lute book. I don't think I've ever seen him quite so clean-shaven as he is in the booklet photos. 

Monday 5 May 2008

I'd forgotten it was a holiday today. Rather than fiddle around with WaveLab any more, I fiddled around with this instead, and rode it around the neighbourhood in the sun.

What's going on? The University Café now serves more than one flavour of ice cream. It's the end of civilisation as we know it, etc.

Saturday 3 May 2008
I thought I'd engage with technology this morning, installing a new DVD drive in my computer in an attempt to get WaveLab to burn CDs properly. While I had the thing opened up on the floor, there was a power cut in the entire area (although domestic power seems to be OK), so our phone, internet and TV have all disappeared simultaneously, with no idea when they will return. At least I've got plenty of other things to do.

On the way home yesterday, I dropped into the studio for Vic Galloway's radio show, which made a nice cultural contrast from the School of Scottish Studies Archive.

Friday 2 May 2008
on the Edinburgh-Glasgow train
This morning Gary West introduced me to the Sound Archive of Celtic & Scottish Studies at the University of Edinburgh for the first time. Also there on his first visit was Paul Anderson, listening to some old field recordings of fiddlers - I could hear Soldier's Joy with G sharps leaking through his headphones.  On my headphones now, I've got some rough mixes from Alasdair Roberts which are very good indeed. Actually they're better than that.

Yesterday Alison came over with her cello before teaching at the RSAMD, and I recorded her making various odd percussion noises - you'll have to guess what they're for.

Sunday 27 April 2008

This interesting article appeared in the Guardian yesterday. Would any Canadians like to comment? I've thought for some time that reluctant nationalists like myself could become ardent Nationalists should a right-wing government get itself elected in London. Or maybe this is just the result of sitting next to John Purser for the best part of a day yesterday ...

I spent most of today working in the garden while the sun shone, preparing it to be a calm place in which to spend time over the summer. And among the various small jobs that got done at my desk in the course of the day was one symbolic act: I cleaned and filled my fountain pen for the first time in (I think) almost a decade. This is an investment in doing things more slowly, and with more care and artistry. I'll have to learn how to write again of course ...

Saturday 26 April 2008

The promised Hertel CD-R arrived from the Conservatoire Royal de Bruxelles yesterday, just after today's recording had been postponed for a while. So instead I spent today at this conference, which turned out to be very useful indeed. There was even time for a pint in Tennent's Bar with John Purser, Bill Sweeney and Kevin Bowyer (who just happened to be there) on the way home.

On Thursday we had a family outing to see Wee Stories' co-production with the National Theatre of Scotland of The Emperor's New Kilt. I could happily write several paragraphs here about how great it was: easy virtuosity with a delight to please and a gentle point to make. Oh yeah, and very very funny. If it's coming to your town, do yourself and anyone else you can find a favour, and go and see it. (OK, the music could have been more interesting but at least they knew exactly how to use it.) I bet you can't guess how they employed the combination of pink rubber gloves and a kazoo.

Monday 21 April 2008

Apologies to anyone wanting to buy a copy of The Red Red Rose, since the recent global shortage took hold. The good news is that a remastered version is on its way, with a new cover image replacing the accidental photo of my old red jacket. It looks great too; I've just been proofreading the booklet.

This evening's task is preparing the performing material for recording some Hertel with Mark O'Keeffe - in fact we're rehearsing tomorrow so I'd better learn the notes too.

Thursday 17 April 2008
Isle of Lismore, outside in the sun after an only slightly foolhardy pre-breakfast dip in Loch Linnhe
Another busy week, one way or another. On Friday I was at Edinburgh University to discuss research ideas, although Darryl Martin and I spent far more time enthusing about Shirley Collins, and the 12-string Rickenbacker he had in his office.

Since then I'd expected to be relaxing here on Lismore, but on Monday I was halfway to the shop when the rim of my bike's back wheel collapsed and I stood in a passing place watching it gradually bend itself away from the tyre before the inevitable 'BOOM' of the inner tube exploding echoed across the hills, startling lambs and sheep. I walked back, with no shopping.

The following day I took the boat over to the mainland with the wheel to see if the bike hire people had a spare the same size (they didn't), and made it back to the island just in time to get the news that our house had been broken into while we were away. So I  was on the boat again, and drove off to Glasgow, leaving the rest of the family behind to get on with being on holiday.

I made it back in 24 hours exactly, as my parents had already alerted the police and let the glaziers in, so I had just had to tidy up the considerable mess and install some alarms. The lesson is: if you're going to get burgled, get done over by incompetent idiots - probably just kids trying to liven up their school holiday in our case.  They didn't steal much, and thankfully they didn't damage much either. As the fingerprints guy said to me: "In Glasgow, you're never more than half a mile from a toerag."

Anyway ... I've brought lots to read with me, including Nick Mason's laugh-out-loud-funny account of life in Pink Floyd, and some Lewis Carroll as a preparation for reading Bryan Talbot's Alice in Sunderland, which is brilliantly entertaining once you've got over the shock of there being several graphic styles colliding on nearly every page. I also brought one of Mr Talbot's contributions to Fables, and read this, this and this. 

Some space away from everything is always good for thinking with clarity of purpose, and perspective. The sound of the eider ducks is pretty good too.

Thursday 10 April 2008

Once again, I've been far too busy to type anything here. I don't normally drive to gigs if I can help it (to be honest I don't drive at all if I can help it) so I'd forgotten how much downtime you lose when you do. Anyway, DG and I headed for Ardkinglas on Saturday and had a great time, playing for nearly two and a half hours to a friendly and enthusiastic audience in the drawing room with its wonderful collection of pianos. The Muir & Wood square from about 1820 proved itself perfect for accompanying Robert Mackintosh's tunes with his own basslines. And what an unexpectedly bassy-sounding room: in the afternoon, David was having trouble making an impression over the huge racket my harpsichord was making, but with the room full of people the balance felt really good.  

Afterwards we were well entertained by David and Angela, and then we had the enormous fun of actually staying in the house with all its original 1907 features and fittings. Couldn't resist taking a photo of my bath tap in the morning.  The miniature barrel organ that played 10 different hymn tunes was another favourite, for the joy of hearing it playing 'Cranbrook' when I  turned the handle, otherwise known as 'On Ilkla Moor baht 'at'.

It was a bit of a shock to be back in a big concert hall at Perth on Monday lunchtime: the audience are so far away. We started by walking through the audience playing Lastrumpony, and photos of the same appeared in the Courier and the P&J on Tuesday. On the way back to Glasgow I needed a break from driving, so we stopped at the Allan Water Café and I indulged in a nostalgic snowball ice with raspberry sauce, just like the ones I used to have in the Gardens Café in Byres Road thirty-something years ago. Playing with it was just as much fun as eating it.

After I'd packed DG onto the plane on Tuesday morning, it was off to heart buchanan for a more 21st century café experience and a chat with Alasdair Roberts which may yet bear interesting fruit. Then lots of preparation for last night's company AGM and board meeting, and today I have a healthy pile of admin to get through. Holiday's coming soon ...

When DG and I were shopping for food on Sunday morning I overheard the beginning of this which only really make sense if you know the original, but then rather a lot of people do. This morning eBay has also brought me a copy of Jean Redpath's Love Lilt and Laughter LP from 1966, which was in a house we used to visit on holiday in the 70s. I taped my favourite tracks onto cassette, holding the mic up to the big speaker of the valve radiogram, and knew all the words to The Kirk Swaree and Paddy McGinty's Goat by the time I was 10.

Friday 4 April 2008

Very tired this evening. DG is over on this side of the Atlantic as the two of us have a couple of concerts over the weekend. It's only when we started playing that we realised that there an awful lot of notes in these gigs: two very chewy Bach sonatas and I'm playing a load of Schetky on a square piano tomorrow night too. (What's the correct noun for an amount of music by Schetky? Pile or load I think.) We went for a walk this afternoon to take advantage of the sunshine and are now completely shattered. It was a good walk, if very windy.

I've been meaning to take a photo of this roadsign for ages, and on Wednesday morning I finally remembered and took this with my phone. 

©2008 David McGuinness
all opinions are those of the author - you don't have to share them