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David
McGuinness's diary Friday 31 March 2006 The Future Pilot AKA single featuring our good selves is now available from Rough Trade here. Thursday 30 March 2006 Wednesday 29 March 2006 I have lots of nice memories from the John Passion experience with Mark Padmore: here are a few at random. First you might like to read The Herald's account of the performance itself: it's nice to have kept up our standard of getting 5 star reviews. Now, the random list: ~ We rehearsed the earlier version of the opening chorus with everyone reading from miniature scores because it wasn't printed in the parts. To make this possible, the singers sat on the floor beside the band to read from their music stands, and the effect of hearing 'Herr, unser Herrcher' sung very powerfully from all around the ensemble at floor level was quite something. ~ seeing James Eastaway (oboes) and Nicola Kingslake (cello) together in the band. When I moved back to Scotland in 1987 I pretty much stopped playing early music, as there was no-one to play it with. Instead I wrote music for theatre, and eventually television. Then one day in Glasgow University concert hall (where I was teaching this morning) Nicola introduced me to James and we formed a quartet with a short succession of violinists, including Lucy Russell; James was a medical student in Edinburgh at the time. Besides being a cellist of considerable imagination, Nicola is now a primary teacher, but has recently started playing again, so it was total joy to get her to go on first for the final curtain call on Monday night, taking the applause centre stage with her family in the audience, after she'd already spent a whole working day in front of her Primary 5 class. James's revival of 15 year old band in-jokes in rehearsal made me smile for a long time too. ~ Svend Brown at Perth Concert Hall very kindly laid on a meal for us afterwards: it was pretty satisfying to look round at 30-odd extremely happy looking people after a job well done. I wish I'd taken my camera, but I was in a grumpy mood when I left the house that day and I didn't. ~ Gary Cooper rehearsing in his socks as an act of keyboard solidarity ~ Richard Holloway talking to us about Simon Peter and Samuel Beckett in the final rehearsal ~ singing chorales together. In the first rehearsal we all sang chorales for nearly an hour and a half. ~ Kathy Fuge's devastating singing of Zerfliesse, mein Herze. It was a tough exercise in professionalism to keep playing. ~ the rollercoaster ride that was 'Eilt' on the night - very fast indeed, but very exciting. Only a few bumpy rails here and there. ~ trying not to look smug (which would have been utterly inappropriate) during the final chorus of 'Ruht wohl' when i sneaked a look along the line of continuo players and thought what a fantastic bunch of musicians they were and. hang on, this is my band (for one night only). ~ similarly, looking round the group in the breaks and seeing lots of people who I really wanted to 1) hang out with, and 2) hear play. In reality though, I was completely anti-social until after the performance, spending all the breaks on my own, because I was so tired and generally feeling under stress. But then, music which costs us nothing is meaningless. And there's a very pleasant walk along the river just outside the hall. ~ Mark's first comment after we came off was 'Wasn't that a really cool curtain call?' ~ discovering that Rob Nairn (double bass) is another XTC fan. Yay. ~ Katherine presenting me with a Daniel Johnston T-shirt on the train on the way to Perth on Friday. ~ We changed the entire stage plan at least three times in the course of the rehearsals. During one of these removal sessions, Ursula Leveaux pointed out 'I need to see David breathe'. This is for perfectly valid musical reasons, but her later explanation 'knowing you're still alive makes me feel better' cheered me immensely when I was feeling half-dead. ~ (That's enough self-congratulation. Ed.) Today has brought significant movement on next season's dates at Perth and elsewhere. It looks like we'll have a busier diary than usual. Earlier today, Sushil gleefully handed me some copies of the new pink vinyl 7" release of Future Pilot AKA single 'Eyes of Love' which features all four of us on the AAA side 'Changes': I play glockenspiel and melodica, Katherine viola, Alison cello, and DG phoned in his fiddle solo to Sushil's answering machine from Halifax, NS. It looks wonderful and is available at Aufgeladen und bereit. And this week also brought an email from Lisa Milne with a list of Janis Joplin songs for consideration for the Wigmore Hall in a few weeks' time. I think that might be fun. My iPod is now rejoicing in the Höök ensemble, courtesy of Katherine. Wow. How all early music might have sounded now, if the folkies had kept hold of it after the 1960s, rather than the classical people. Wednesday 22 March 2006 Hmm, haven't posted here for a while. I blame a combination of family-related sleep deprivation and being (fairly) busy with preparations for the coming weekend's rehearsals and concert. The buildup towards a rehearsal period is never something I enjoy. The co-existent potential for a great experience and a truly awful one is probably the source of the childish mood swings that anyone unfortunate enough to live with me has to tolerate. Yuk. I would have thought that as Andrew is managing the project with his admirable good humour and attention to detail, and Mark is directing the whole thing, I would be relaxed, but no. I wonder why. I always look forward to playing in other people's groups, but rarely mine. I suppose that if I don't enjoy playing in another band, I can walk away; if I don't enjoy playing in my own, it's a more complex problem. But this time at least it's seasoned with a sense of wonder, fascination and delight in Bach's music. A piece like the John Passion continues to reveal more and more the further you delve into it, and I'm sure Monday's end result will be exciting, moving and yes, even good to listen to. Rehearsals start tomorrow, and the band gets together on Friday afternoon for three whole days' work before the concert day. Luxury. Spending that much time with a piece that good in the company of some exceptional musicians can't be bad really. So stop moaning, you whingeing git. That's better. Meanwhile, the Lion CD now is now moving inexorably towards a release later this year by Marquis. Yay. Thursday 9 March 2006 Just back from a concert in St Andrews, in 'professional musician' mode: it's not often that I'm there in university term-time. St Andrews students are, on the whole, not like other Scottish students (the majority of them are English for a start): they seem like miniature middle-aged people from another culture. When I arrived there was a procession (with police protection!) going down the road carrying heraldic shields, and as I left, a another procession, torchlit this time, was singing 'Gaudeamus igitur' as it set off from St Salvator's Chapel. I thought getting an education was about learning to challenge pointless traditions ... I was there to play in Haydn's Symphony 44, one of my favourite pieces of music ever since playing square piano in exhilarating performances of it under Alan Hacker when a student myself at York. Unfortunately, this week's conductor's engagement with (the) music is on an altogether more trivial level. After the orchestra played through the first movement for the second time, his only comment was 'you play movements like that one really well'. Personally, I don't think the sound of a good orchestra on autopilot tells us very much about what Haydn had to say in a serious piece like the Trauersymphonie. Oh well. When I wasn't in rehearsal I was putting the spare time to good use getting some sea air and writing a detailed translation into my score of the John Passion. But it's sad to report that the standard of the chips at PM's has dropped from excellent to very poor indeed. I spent the necessary car journey in the musical company of a Michael Marra album, and the excellent new podcast from They Might be Giants: a vast improvement on the previous ones I think. Two major losses this week. The death of Ivor Cutler leaves a large Mr-Cutler-shaped hole - even though he'd retired from performing, many of us always imagined he'd keep on doing BBC radio sessions for as long as we were around. Like lots of others, I first heard him on John Peel, bought one of his mystifying but fascinating albums when still at school, and was completely entranced by his radio plays which seemed to come from another universe. 'Is this your spoon, mister?' And this Saturday is the last ever Bungalow, so Dirty Norris, Nanny Nob Nobs, Scampi Pamphlets, Musical Splatues, Bogies, the Energy Walk, Mr Choosy, the Prize Idiot, the Outboard Motor Gob Game, Do Not Laugh or You Will Lose, Painty Painty Paint Paint, the All Electric Granny Snog Quiz, and of course Creamy Muck Muck will be no more. Aw. Friday 3 March 2006 I took delivery of two Gator cases today: a flightcase for our newly-acquired Ahlborn H6 fake chamber organ, and a trolley case for my Estey harmonium. The case is designed for twin combos, and the harmonium is just a bit too big for it so it goes in happily, but won't come out. As a result I spent some of this morning lying on the hall floor with my legs braced against the case trying to retrieve the Estey from its clutches. It came out eventually. I've since bought some webbing and buckles to wrap round it on the way in for next time - thanks to Alison for that idea ... speaking of whom, I found this picture of us on the web this morning. As you can see, I'd already begun to formulate my policy on shoes. The weather has alternated snow and beautiful sunshine today: the canal was frozen over with just a light dusting on the top, when all around had melted. It's my duty as a guardian of culture to point out that there are only two weekends of Dick & Dom in da Bungalow left, and that this weekend's is the last Sunday show. Get yourself to a telly and watch some history being made. No seriously, it's that good. Meanwhile, watch this and this and you'll be none the wiser. Wednesday 1 March 2006 Inspired by the sunshine and the freezing cold, I've been spring cleaning: clearing out my study of unnecessary clutter in the hope of a more relaxed working environment. Well, I managed one wall's worth and didn't even get near tackling my desk but it's a start. I'm trying to clear as much space as possible before breaking the seal on my new John Passion score, so that there's a chance I can give it some serious concentration. Thanks to Irwin Chusid again, you can hear our accompaniment of Daniel Johnston's Walking the Cow here. Tuesday 21 February 2006 This morning I finally listened to the mastered Lion CD properly on good headphones in a quiet room. It's only taken me a month and a half to find an hour when I was sufficiently 1) free, and 2) awake. I also familiarised myself for the first time with the procedure for copyright clearing samples, which will soon prove useful. I just hope it proves successful too. Then this afternoon while in town, I met Alison to compare diaries for the rest of the calendar year and work out when we might try out pianos, rehearse, and record some Schetky. For the last of these activities September and November both seem like options, although if it turns out to be in November we'll have the added liability of keeping an antique piano happy and in tune in cold weather. We did this planning to the accompaniment of a live AC/DC album in Where the Monkey Sleeps, which sounds incongruous but wasn't. Speaking of diaries, various gigs are coming together for the end of August and beginning of September. Friday 17 February 2006 If you would like a sneak preview of our version of the Buzzcocks song 'Boredom' with Lisa Milne and Chris Norman, you can hear it here as part of Irwin's WFMU show on Wednesday. Yup, we're in between Moondog and East River Pipe. Wednesday 15 February 2006 More time-wasting today courtesy of the Bank of Scotland, and the latest chapter in the saga of my attempts to find out how much money is in Concerto Caledonia Limited's account. This morning, Business Telephone Banking (who lost the forms last time round) told me that they'd sent them 'back to the branch', not that it was ever anything to do with the branch in the first place. Now the Bank of Scotland don't let you phone branches directly, so when a childcare window appeared this afternoon I got on my bike and went down there myself. They're nice sympathetic people, but of course they knew nothing about it at all. At least I didn't get caught in the thunder or the hailstorm on my bike. Meanwhile ...
... who said 'product placement'? With thanks to the nice man at Suzuki Europe who got this shipped over for me. Once out of the box, it's really well made and has quite a powerful clean sound, but it takes a lot of puff. I think on balance I probably prefer cheaper instruments with lighter reeds. They're not as loud, but the sound is much more flexible, in that you can play very quietly indeed, and play long phrases without falling over. But the Suzuki does look nice. I'll play it in and see how it goes. But I think Barney the purple Yamaha 'pianica' remains the instrument of choice at the moment. What a shame they don't make them any more. Tuesday 14 February 2006 I did the first part of the concert on autopilot: in control, but apparently listening from a distance, and if truth be told, a little bored. But once I'd established a bit of communication with the audience and started getting something back, it was great fun. The Schetky, which I'd had doubts about playing on harpsichord rather than piano, had some really good moments, and sounded like music. Playing without shoes is also still a very good idea. And playing (most of) a concert on your own is a really useful barometer of how you're feeling. I'm knackered. I was aware for most the concert of how tired my eyes felt: I wonder what they looked like. Afterwards I had a quick look at the Rochhead square piano brought out of store to be investigated (for Schetky again), then it was off to Plaisir du Chocolat with Mags, Alina Bzhezhinska and Haftor Medbøe for chocolate espresso (there's no coffee in it of course), green tea and cake. The perfect place for afternoon post-concert glow and conversation. While a few years ago I would have insisted on the necessity of beer in such a situation, but I can now vouch for the fact that a PduC chocolate espresso is just as satisfying. It's probably not a good idea after a late night gig if you want to get any sleep though. I had a quick look into the luggage dept in Jenners in fruitless search of a replacement for my Tumi bag which is finally croaking after 5 years of constant abuse, and then to the train and checking email, which included a very interesting suggestion for the release format of the Lion CD, which made me smile. The late 1970s and Squeeze continue in my headphones. Glenn Tilbrook for sainthood I think. A band with so many strong personalities in it that Jools Holland had to shut up and just hold down some chords. Great songs. Musical imagination. And Gilson Lavis's wonderful drumming. I bought the singles at the time but am still pleased at how good they are. I did have taste when I was 12. Clearly it's all gone downhill from there. Monday 13 February 2006 Just about mellowed out enough now to be able to do some serious practice for tomorrow's concert. I tuned the bottom G# on my harpsichord down to F for the first time, and it sounds remarkably convincing. The Moermans original it's copied from is BB-d3 but probably at a low pitch, so if that B was really a short octave G, then there's no reason why the instrument shouldn't sound good going all the way down to F now. Are you following this? The Scarlatti is starting to sound a bit psychotic though: I'm sure the 1755 Kirckman tomorrow will straighten me out a bit. It's not an instrument that puts up with bad behaviour. The weekend's cultural intake included 'Chicken Little' - the first time I've sat in a cinema looking at anything but the screen since Ghostbusters. Watching myself eat an apple, or admiring the exit signs, was more entertaining. But yesterday's thali lunch in Mother India's Cafe more than made up for it. It made the perfect cough medicine too. I'd been up half the night with a tickly throat. Susie's school choir is singing in a big charity concert on Thursday night, and is well chuffed that we both appear on the same page of the Guardian Guide. Wednesday 8 February 2006 How long my work list has become. But I had a good day's practising yesterday for next Tuesday's recital, with my mental state starting at 'why I am playing all this trivial music? I'm going to have to apologise to the audience' and finishing with 'ha ha, I must make sure people come and hear this'. That's what practice is for I suppose. Maybe I should do it more often. And maybe not. I like performing irregularly. It makes each concert a special event. If it's not special for me, how can it be special for an audience? The excellent Irwin Chusid at WFMU in New Jersey (he of Incorrect Music Hour and Songs in the Key of Z fame) has expressed considerable interest in our versions of Daniel Johnston's Walking the Cow, and the Buzzcocks' Boredom, so some very rarified airplay might be in the offing. A new copy of the first recording of Einstein on the Beach arrived through the letterbox today, which is very cheering. I lent mine to someone years ago and it never came back. It's much more visceral than the later version, which has its good points but doesn't quite catch fire the way the original does. Yesterday I booked my flights to Nova Scotia for Boxwood in July, and further details arrived today of October's tour and recording in Montréal with Suzie LeBlanc and the jolly boys - looking forward to both of those very much. But all of the above is experienced this week through a thick haze of stress caused by the shortcomings of certain parts of the Scottish education system. Saturday 4 February 2006 Yesterday - morning: company accounts; afternoon - playing tunes on fiddle and melodica with Greg; evening - Hummel Mass with SCO. Today - day off. It was very interesting to play in the newly re-opened City Hall in Glasgow last night. They've done a fantastic job turning an drab old civic workhorse into an inviting comfortable modern concert hall. To my ears, there's just a bit of bloom missing off the classic 'shoebox' acoustic that was there before - musicians have to work a bit harder to project. Max Martin played a great Mozart clarinet concerto in the first half though: I blagged a free ticket from the SCO marketing people and snuck in. Nice to sit in a concert when music comes to visit. Even if the most delicate part of Max's slow movement cadenza became a duet with a sweetie wrapper in the balcony. He had the presence of mind to stare the offender out while still playing beautifully. later Thursday 2 February 2006 I'd forgotten that I'm playing a solo harpsichord recital in less than a fortnight, and hadn't factored in any preparation time. Oops. So all bits and pieces of free time next week are now going to be devoted to practice. Fortunately, I have to be in at home all day at one point for the delivery of my daughter's birthday present (and I'm not saying what it is in case Susie reads this) so that's now been designated harpsichord practice day. We recently moved the ConCal company bank account to the Bank of Scotland in the hope of a slightly simpler life. Unfortunately, the only way I can find out how much money we have is to go into the branch, as the bank has lost the authorisation forms for telephone banking, which were signed by the company directors and secretary. The very helpful business banking guy in the branch just sighed sympathetically and said he wasn't surprised, recommending persistence with the phone banking people in Edinburgh. So today I filled in all the forms again: Sandy, one of our directors, was singing in the chorus tonight so I've got one signature already and will get more tomorrow. But I hadn't really wanted to spend what free time I've got filling in repetitive boring forms the second time around. I had a similar problem with the Bank of Scotland recently, trying to get internet access to a personal joint account: but in that case I gave up and took the money back off them in the huff after two months of lack of access. Not impressed. Of course, other opinions of the Bank of Scotland's services are available (as they say on the BBC) but I can't say I would recommend opening a new account with them if you ever want to know anything about your finances. Wednesday 1 February 2006 I've had an unusually productive day today. I began it by coming up with a possible programme for us to play at a contemporary music festival, then after talking radio and other things with Janice Forsyth for a while, I met Greg for lunch to catch up with his and others' latest creative ideas, and then headed for Edinburgh and an SCO rehearsal with Nic McGegan, always a pleasure. I fitted in a visit to the Edinburgh bike shop, and some time reading and playing from the score of Einstein on the Beach, making some useful strategic decisions. And I found that Classic FM have been playing tracks from The Red Red Rose regularly for the last week or two. That would explain all the CD sales then. Sunday 29 January 2006 Lots to reflect on from the last few days on this sunny winter Sunday, after a fun gig last night in Perth. I'm completely exhausted but that's fine. For one thing, good singing is good singing no matter what it sounds like. It was fascinating to share a stage with two very different singers, both of them technically assured and emotionally engaged, and as songwriters themselves, appreciative of what Burns could do. Karine's 'The Lea Rig' was a unfollowable end to the first half, and Michael blew us all off the stage with his breathtaking delivery of 'Ae fond kiss' and 'Parcel of Rogues'. He's a formidable musician. The creative team at Perth Concert Hall are pretty formidable too: production manager Patrick and stage manager Mary somehow manage to be ruthlessly efficient and effortlessly entertaining at the same time. This is important.
Our relationship with Perth is proving very valuable though. Having the freedom and the budget to try new things is very important to the continued life, sanity and artistic well-being of the group. I described it to Chris as our R&D department. Other things to reflect on: 1) Not wearing shoes on stage is really good ... for me anyway. I like my feet to be free to move. I've never had the nerve to do it before, but then the January sales brought me an Armani suit I can play in, which means I still feel like I'm dressed up and stageworthy when in my socks. 2) Playing sets of several tunes with long names inevitably leads to them being abbreviated, but how did my set list come to read Arse/Monster/Peggie/Flower - Barse/Hell-Sausage/Bent [see above]? 3) As a result of the photo session below, Chris's nickname has changed from 'Big Bois' to 'Small Pipes Guy': a bit of a come-down.
Luxury. A whole day in Perth with the hall to ourselves, Karine and Michael, and only a couple of photo calls for distraction. I think we're ready for the gig now. Chris, Katherine (hidden behind nyckelharpa) and Michael go out in the cold ... Thursday 26 January 2006 Well, DG and Chris overcame their jetlag mightily yesterday (mostly) for a packed and exhausting if exhilarating day. The five of us spent a long morning choosing tunes and working Chris into them, and then Karine was very patient with us all afternoon as we tried to engage tired musical brains with occasional success. A final run-through after Iain's excellent halibut, and we were off in cabs to the BBC and Late Junction, which was a lot of fun. You can hear the results here for a week or so: we're about 25 minutes in. Listen out for the complete degeneration of the tune 'Maggys covered arse' towards the end as Chris makes farting noises on the pipes. And the Laphroaig in paper cups from the production team afterwards was very welcome. Whew. Now back to rehearsals ... Tuesday 24 January 2006 I spent a lot of today on the phone, but organising non-classical music is much less stressful than classical, so I can't say I've minded. We're going to play live on Late Junction tomorrow (not Thursday after all), at about 10.45pm. It will be on the website for a week afterwards as usual. Katherine says that once she's played on Late Junction she'll be happy to retire and set up a cappuccino and whisky shop. I don't really know if she's joking. There's also just a chance we might sneak along the corridor afterwards and play a tune or two on Iain Anderson's Radio Scotland show as well. Tommy Pearson was on Radio 4's Front Row earlier tonight, expressing delight that we're not playing any Mozart to celebrate his anniversary. Mozart's, not Tommy's. And actually, Tommy was much funnier than that. Sunday 22 January 2006 I'm pretty much preoccupied with next Saturday's concert, preparing some notation, and the general logistics or lack of them: it's certainly nice to be writing charts rather than parts for a change, sketching out the bare bones knowing that something more interesting will happen in the room. But I'm also dealing with unwelcome distractions like my second bout of conjunctivitis in two weeks (yuk), and very welcome distractions like Catherine Bott coming over for supper on Friday before yesterday's Early Music Show (yay). Yesterday Gary Cooper called to see how interested I would be in playing the Brahms Liebeslieder Walzer on a big 19th century style piano. 'Very' was my response, even though Brahms and I don't necessarily go together. It's not for musical reasons, rather that he had huge hands and I haven't, so playing his music can be a bit of a struggle just maintaining the stretches. I'll have a look at the score sometime soon and see if I can bear the specified amount of pain. I had an email from Fiona Talkington today suggesting we might just fit into Thursday's Late Junction from Glasgow. We'll all be in town, so if we can actually think of something to play it sounds quite possible. Last Thursday afternoon I found myself holding a microphone, surrounded by (amongst others) three BBC producers, Archie Fisher, and Sushil, while John Purser taught us all the ancient battle cry of the MacNeils 'Biulacreag' and we proceeded to shout it repeatedly at deafening volume like some sort of primal scream therapy, in the empty shell of the huge studio that until last week was the home of the BBC Scottish Symphony Orchestra. I'm not even going to start to explain why. Tuesday 17 January 2006 This morning was spent in St Cecilia's Hall with Alison, trying out instruments for our Schetky CD. There can't be many places in the world where in one corner of a room are about six keyboard instruments matched in date and provenance to the music that we're playing. And even then it was hard to make a decision. It's looking like a fortepiano-only record now, mostly using a modern copy, but there's another early 19th-century square piano by Andrew Rochead to come out of the store in a couple of weeks, so I'll try that one out then. Harpsichords are a bit like violins in that original instruments almost always sound better and more characterful than modern copies. With pianos the opposite tends to be true, as modern copies have a freshness and clarity that the originals have usually (but not always) lost. I looked in on Andrew in his office on the way home, and then In the post waiting for me when I came back were Karine's demos for next week, which are rather wonderful. Last Saturday was a bit crazy. The first half of Martyn's gig overran by about half an hour, so as soon as I'd played my bits I had to run for it, leaving Allan Wright to be my roadie for the day, and get down to City Halls. The new small recital room has a huge acoustic, and when I got there Alison was already playing solo Bach to a standing audience. And now that the kids are asleep (11pm), a huge worklist awaits me at my desk. Uh. Friday 13 January 2006 Well, tomorrow afternoon Alison and I might be playing Geminiani and Vivaldi in the brand new recital room at Glasgow City Hall. I'd assumed it wasn't happening, as I'd heard before Christmas that the room itself wasn't going to be ready in time, but then this week it turns out that it will be. Meanwhile, Alison's in a recording session in Belgium this morning, and now that I'm playing in the Martyn B gig up the road tomorrow lunchtime, I can't take my harpsichord, so I'm not still 100% sure that we'll be there. But ... if Robert Lay can get his harpsichord there and tune it in time, I'll be dashing off stage at the Concert Hall around 2.45 and jumping in a taxi with harmonium, organ and melodica to go a few hundred yards down the hill, hopefully in time for us to start playing when the orchestral concert comes out in the main hall at 3pm. Let's see. Tuesday 10 January 2006 It's changed from fresh exciting sparkly winter weather, to wet windy hiding-indoors winter weather. So I've been very happy to spend the afternoon by the fire with Michael Marra's Burns demos. And they make quite a masterclass in Burns singing: every word in exactly the right place, and vast open spaces you could drive a bus through. Wonderful and deeply affecting. Now I just have to figure out what on earth we'll play that won't get in his way. I said hello to MM briefly when we were both rehearsing Martyn Bennett's music on Sunday, Michael declaiming the text of Psalm 118 in Liberation. It was fun to be in a 3 hour orchestral rehearsal as part of the group of add-on non-notated musical misfits for once. Catriona McKay on harp, and myself with harmonium, organ and melodica, were sat in front of Tom Bancroft on V-drums and James Mackintosh on good old-fashioned drum kit, the two of them exchanging beats and good-natured drummer banter throughout. My favourite remark was 'we've just worked out that the salaries of the back two desks of fiddles is the same as the entire funding for jazz music'. Don't know if this is strictly true, but it can't be far off and it's a great line. Catriona has such strong rhythmic sense that the drummers were sometimes taking their tempo from her: small harp, unamplified, in an orchestra. Now that's clarity of purpose. But returning to questions of British culture: it's January, so the darts is on the telly. Great. Get it in the Olympics for 2012. Saturday 7 January 2006 Just back from London - door to door in less than 3½ hours: hooray for Stansted. In the mail waiting for me was a CD of demos from Michael Marra, a listening copy of the mastered Lion CD (see below) and ... my hat. Hooray again. Thursday evening was spent in the gracious company of Ben Turner (and a rather sick Stellar) at Finesplice, mastering the CD with a multitude of sound-tweaking tools and a pair of very finely-tuned ears. Alison joined us halfway through, with Katherine monitoring progress by phone. And yesterday Alison and I set off on a little Schetky keyboards odyssey, visiting Harold Lester to try out his wonderful 18th century Portuguese fortepiano by Antunes, and then trying some of the same music with harpsichord at the Guildhall (bumping into Annette Isserlis and Ken Aiso there). It looks like this record's only going to have fortepiano on it after all, but we'll try out a Kirckman/Broadwood-type harpsichord before ruling it out. In transit I've been reading the long-awaited (by me anyway) Tricked by Alex Robinson. One of the few comic artists who draws characters that you really get to like. Thursday 5 January 2006 Tuesday 3 January 2006 Joy unbounded. A phone call this afternoon from Catherine Bott backstage at Perth Concert Hall, holding my lost hat in her hands. There is more rejoicing in heaven etc. Now to prepare for tomorrow's board meeting ... Sunday 1 January 2006 Well, a Good New Year to everyone. This morning Robbie and I took advantage of the almost complete lack of traffic on the roads to find our way to National Cycle Network path 7 and enjoy the fresh air and sunshine. Clearing our heads after last night's partying. My achievement rate has been pleasingly low for the last week. The other night Greg came over with some of the arrangements for the Martyn Bennett Day concert on the 14th, so I now have some melodica, harmonium and organ parts to learn to inhabit. My only other achievements have been to come a bit closer to inhabiting some of Schetky's keyboard music, and to buy what would have been a very expensive suit indeed in the sales. Had it not been in the sales. I didn't try hard enough to buy a paper on Thursday, when Derek Bailey's obituary appeared. So I'm just catching up with the news now. I never made the effort to go and see him play live when I had the chance. As some people say of Radio 3, his music isn't something I would want to listen to much, but I was always very very glad it was there. His wikipedia entry has some enjoyable audio samples and a link to a interesting interview. Like all creative musicians, he looked for a musical environment and a style where he could play. Thanks to Kenneth C for sending me BAO! by Benny Andersson's Orchestra - the sound of a bunch of guys having a great time. © 2006 David
McGuinness |
concerto caledonia
This was Chris's first
time with us as a quartet (OK, quintet now). When he first heard Spring Any Day
Now he said 'David, I want to be in your group' and we finally managed it. At
the end of a few days together, the dynamics work out like this: Katherine
remains calm and organised at all times, Chris remains calm at all times by
being strategically disorganised from time to time, and the other three of us
take it in turns to get stroppy with one another. I don't think any of us are
taking it personally though ... yet.
Friday 27 January
2006