Monday 31 December 2007

A week of holidays so far and lots of things done, and lots of time spent doing nothing. Some interesting discoveries though ...

Lots of entertainment can be had with the mechanism of a music box, to prove that we don't just hear through our ears. The basic sound-producing mechanical device is very quiet, but when it's put on a table or other resonator, it's amplified hugely.  Put it on your head and your skull resonates (this particular one played 'We Three Kings'), put it against your elbow and put your hand to your ear, and your hand becomes a loudspeaker. Endless fun.

I went into the new Apple store in Glasgow recently, which was almost as strange an experience as the last time I went into one, in Manhattan to buy my iPod: that was in the days when you could buy an iPod mini, remember them? Despite the fact that almost all musicians have Macs, I work on Windows (to finish this sentence, smug Mac users can insert their own smart-arse sarcastic reason on my behalf, I can't be bothered). I don't have feelings as strong as this - I rather like Macs actually - but I found the smiley atmosphere in the store a bit disturbing, like a diabetic who's stumbled into a scientology convention by mistake. Some fellow Scots had clearly been brainwashed by some Californian cult and were urging me to try things out: 'Turn it up loud, that's what it's for [ingratiating smile]'. 'Uh, OK [fearful expression, taking one step backwards].'  I wondered if some machine had scanned my credit card as I walked in the door and identified me as a likely customer than a potential thief: somehow if I was looking a bit more like the back end of the week I don't think I'd have been urged quite so enthusiastically to get my mitts on the merchandise. Or maybe if you try to nick something steel shutters slam down and cut your body in two as you leave. There's got to be some sort of concealed nastiness at work behind the scenes.

I've also been recording some tunes: a casio-based bit of silliness, some overdubs on a couple of tape loops James Donegan and I made 26 years ago, and a nice little piano tune that gradually transforms into an unforgivable guitar solo.  And I'm teaching myself how to use compression when mixing, to turn music with range, subtlety, and depth into flat moronic swill that you only have to half-listen to (joke).  But now I really must apply myself properly to dance band repertoire.

Anyway, happy discovery of the week was watching clips of Iva Bittová on youtube. You can too, isn't that great?

P.S. for readers outside Scotland ... Given that here we're supposed to be the world experts on New Year, you might be a bit bemused if you've already wished a Scots person a Happy New Year and got a (momentary) blank stare in return. This is because you only do this AFTER midnight on the 31st, not before. If you're not going to be seeing someone for a while, you can however wish them a 'Happy New Year when it comes'. OK?  Glad to be of service ... 

Monday 24 December 2007

In the West End of Glasgow, the traditional pastime on Christmas Eve and Hogmanay (for me anyway) is bumping into unexpected people in Byres Road and standing around chatting. So when I emerged from my haircut this morning, I ran into John and Bar Purser, visiting from Skye. Yesterday I'd sat around happily with Greg comparing thoughts on the importance of listening and intention in music - nothing that would make much sense written down, but it seemed completely lucid at the time. I've also been playing with my latest eBay purchase of a Behringer V-amp, trying to resist the temptation to make mid-life-crisis electric guitar noises. I'll find a more focused musical use for it soon, when I've stopped messing around with the presets.

Speaking of messing around with presets, the arrival of a nice Lexicon reverb plug-in for my computer has meant that I could finally mix the Marshall-Burns set of tunes that DG and I recorded here in my study nearly a year ago. We only jammed it down quickly so that we wouldn't forget how it went (and not to disturb the neighbours too much) but it's pretty good.   

I don't really engage with Christmas music much any more, apart from smiling when Wizzard, or Kirsty McColl and the Pogues come on the radio. The 'traditional' carols all seem to be in the same form that they were in when I was at school twenty-odd years ago: you still hear the David Willcocks arrangements everywhere.  They were great for their time, but I suppose I'm a bit disappointed that, for example 'O come all you faithful' is hardly ever heard in the old Greatorex version that made it famous, where you repeat each half of each verse. You have to do it faster and get rid of the cheesy 4/2 chord at the beginning, but it's really good fun to sing. Why should Christmas always involve pretending that we're in King's College Cambridge in 1975? 

That's enough bah humbug for today: I'm off to have fun getting ready for tomorrow.

Monday 17 December 2007

I've been back at the eye hospital this morning for my iritis check, so I now have more drops and a schedule for weaning myself off the steroid ones, whoopee.

Before bed last night I spent half an hour recording some improvisation based around the Casio MT-45 (no it's not me in that clip) that's been lying around the study for a year or two. Inspired by sharing a welcome Duvel with Alan Emslie on Saturday night after our gig, and watching Fred Frith go shopping for noisy food ingredients in Step Across the Border, yesterday I bought a packet of Aduki beans and tipped them into the large Bruichladdich 3D3 tin that's been lying around here too. Sounds huge.

Anyway, I've no more professional musical engagements to fulfil before the new year, so it's time to think about Christmas and get on with that.

later
Thanks to Tony Currie for furnishing me with a copy of Scotlandia by Geraldo and his Orchestra, which served as the station ident for STV for many years. For me it's the sound of being off school: STV would play it at about 9.30am along with the transmitter information before programmes started.

My favourite sentence from today's reading has got to be: "The first commercial application of digitized audio technology was the prosaic delay line, which replaced the garden hose as a means for creating long audio delays in sound reinforcement." Garden hose?? No explanation given. That's quite a good illustration of how the book as a whole is alternately fascinatingly lucid and maddeningly obscure.

Internet connection failed tonight. I rang the service status line to see if there was a local problem, and the service status line had been disconnected. Thank you Virgin media.

Thursday 13 December 2007

This morning I made the promised return visit to Kevin Earnshaw and the court cave at East Wemyss, this time on BBC business with John Purser and Fiona Fraser. John had brought a couple of replica Bronze Age horns with him, and they sounded great.

I had to dash across to Edinburgh for a short SCO rehearsal with Oliver Knussen afterwards, which meant a really enjoyable train ride along the Fife coast and over the Forth Bridge. For an extra two quid my bike and I had the first class accommodation to ourselves, so that I could concentrate on trying to master Mr Knussen's more complicated rhythmic material.  But I still find it impossible to cross that bridge without gazing out the window in wonder.

I'm getting better at the bike/train combo - today, a very helpful member of the station staff at Queen Street showed me the lift that connects platforms 7 and 8, and saves having to wheel a bike through the busy station concourse and up or down the stairs.

With his passing last week, I wish I had a good Stockhausen anecdote, but I haven't (apart from secondhand ones). The best I can offer is that when I was in Belfast three years ago, I walked through the hotel foyer thinking 'That guy looks really like Stockhausen' and of course it was him. Duh. 

Tuesday 11 December 2007
on the train home from Edinburgh

the view from platform 4, Haymarket station, 7.15pm

I'm in the middle of a week of being a professional musician playing in the SCO. It's been many months since I last sat in, so I've missed out on all sorts of news, including Su-a's appearance in Scotland on Sunday's 'most eligible' list. Just two spots below Annie Lennox: go girl!

Anyway, what struck me today is what good pieces Vivaldi's Four Seasons are, and how interesting it would be to hear what he wrote without the familiar performance traditions and habits. And does there really have to be an orchestra there? I recently heard a wee snippet of Sigiswald Kuijken's new recording played on the violoncello da spalla, and it sounded really fresh: direct, simple, and ... no orchestra! I feel a project coming on. In fact by 7pm today I'd already enlisted the variously enthusiastic support of the key players and a promoter.

Also what's striking is how much even my own playing of the piece has changed since I last played it five years ago. In the UK there are decades of tradition that suggest places in the piece where the harpsichord player can show off, but it makes no sense in terms of the piece at all. In general, I'm playing a lot less notes than I used to. It's odd having to decide not to play to audience expectations: the temptation is to think 'a part of the Edinburgh audience will be expecting a cool harpsichord break here: better show them what I can do', but I realised that I'd feel better about myself afterwards if I mentally told them to get lost, and persuaded them to listen to what Vivaldi wrote instead. Who's the better composer, him or me? No contest.

I've also been reading a contract for the Lion CD today, which may make it available for download sometime soon.

Sunday 9 December 2007

Back home yesterday, I spent what energy I had (not much) bringing the CD sales accounts up to date for the last six months or so. This morning I've been entranced by the Sunny Govan Sunday morning show in Polish.

The audience in Dundee on Thursday were very welcoming, which was just as well after a rather stressful get-in, with nowhere legal to park the car, three flights of stairs to take the instruments up, and, worst of all, having to clear the stage after our rehearsal for a schools orchestra, with only 30 minutes to set up all over again and tune the harpsichord before the show starts. Not ideal really. I hung around the Music Centre for a bit after getting some excellent street food from the French Christmas market, and a wee bit of nostalgia, revisiting the site of the 1991 community play that I music directed for Dundee Rep. 

a sad abandoned harp in Dundee Music Centre

On Friday morning in the mail came a tiny little Trace Elliot TA30 Acoustic guitar amp that I found on eBay, which sounds clear as a bell. I figured harmonium and melodica would sound good through it once I'd come up with a microphone setup that works. All in good time.

Then it was off to Mhairi's old home town of Galashiels on Friday for our last gig, and Ma and Pa Lawson's excellent hospitality. Burt's Hotel in Melrose gets the culinary prize of the week for the outstanding Eyemouth kippers I had for breakfast yesterday. 

Thursday 6 December 2007
The Ship Inn, Elie
After the rather sterile but cheery environment of the Eastgate Theatre in Peebles on Tuesday, it was fun to be at St Peter's Church in Kirkcaldy last night.  Hilary Payne met us on our arrival with tea and biscuits, there was a nice acoustic, a great audience who sang well when prompted, and, incredibly, a little organ from 1967 by Grant Degens and Bradbeer, with a truly eccentric stoplist and a bizarre case in wood and red Formica like something by Mondrian. I learnt to play the organ in York University on one of their instruments from the same year, so it was strangely familiar: we used it for the Duncan Burnett Pavin and Balulalow in the second half, with members of the audience carefully scrutinizing the scores over my shoulder - a bit unnerving.

from the church notice board: figured bass tuition extra

We weren't staying in Kirkcaldy last night, as Alison's guidebook gave advice along the lines of 'good places to stay in Kirkcaldy: somewhere else', so we were in the spectacular Belvedere Hotel a few miles away in the strangely deserted ex-fishing village of West Wemyss. 

The town is beautiful, and the houses are apparently occupied, but there doesn't seem to be anyone about: the 1920s look makes it feel a bit like Portmeirion. There's no shop, just a pub whose business is not going well. 

Hilary told us that until recently the town was pretty much derelict, so let's hope the upward trend continues. The hotel is under new management too, probably just in time. Our rooms ranged in temperature from 'leave the windows wide open all night in a howling sea-gale in December' (Alison's) to 'cower under two duvets from the wind and cold' (mine), and I shared my bathroom with some other living things (see photo).

The cold taps gave out really hot water for a few seconds before changing their minds. But if this sounds like complaining, it isn't, as we were made very welcome and all really enjoyed it! 

On the way here we stopped at East Wemyss, as Hilary had told us about the caves. Within 10 seconds of getting out of the car, we met Kevin Earnshaw, who enthused about the high tides and the Scotland's Music radio series, and took us to look at Pictish carvings in the court cave - fantastic! I knew when I packed a torch that it would be useful for something, but exploring 1500 year old drawings wasn't what I'd had in mind. My camera battery packed up just as we got there so no photos, except of this on the way there ...

And now we're in the peaceful confines of the Ship Inn, with nice beer, wonderful food, a cheering fire and a copy of the Scots Musical Museum, hatching stupid ideas for January's dance band.

Tuesday 4 December 2007
driving south from Aberdeen (Alison's driving, Mhairi's in the back)
We played our first gig of the week last night in the Cowdray Hall, which must have gone quite well, as I came out from my usual hiding to socialise over wine and mince pies with the audience, who were a friendly bunch and bought lots of CDs.

Over the last two days I've broken both bottom C# strings on my harpsichord, the second one just before last night's concert, so with 20 minutes to go I was frantically going through the scores so that I would be mentally prepared for the inevitable unplanned silence - in the whole programme there was just one. Bob is sending me new strings so I'll put them on tomorrow morning at home.

Yesterday's unexpected highlight was a wander round Aberdeen's City Art Gallery while the others were at lunch - it was just a couple of internal doors away from the hall.  A really interesting contemporary collection, well presented, with local work among the required pieces from Damien Hirst, Francis Bacon, and one of Julian Opie's mesmerising videos.

We're a bit less talkative than usual at the moment, as we stopped in Stonehaven for a truly enormous breakfast at Molly's café, including vast slabs of clootie dumpling. So blood supply has been redirected from our brains to more immediate digestive concerns.

Sunday 2 December 2007

A last day of preparation here before this week's tour with Mhairi and Alison. Unfortunately I spent the morning in eye casualty after my iritis returned (it's been threatening for a week or two). So I've now got my supply of steroid eye drops and one very dilated pupil. Living across the road from the ophthalmology department helps in these situations. To be honest I'm only mentioning it here because then it's a very easy way for me to check back and see when my last outbreak was!

My waiting-room reading was the chapter on Auditory Spatial Awareness in 'Spaces Speak': very interesting indeed.

Friday 30 November 2007

Happy St Andrew's Day. The drivetime show on Sunny Govan Radio was playing Scottish music in celebration so I got to sing along to the Bay City Rollers while making the dinner - now that's community service. 

I can now reveal that Concerto Caledonia is going to be releasing a 7" single sometime soon. The major decision to be taken at the moment is what colour vinyl it should be on: I think my kids get to decide that one.

Musical institutions all have their problems: I suspect that the RSAMD is better run than many, but nonetheless you can see why some people prefer not to get involved with such places at all. I've given up trying to work out how much they pay me for my occasional lectures: there doesn't seem to much rhyme or reason to it, and it makes getting a payslip from them an interesting event. Today I got one in the mail for the grand sum of £2.34. The last time I went in to teach I was given a form to fill in for my travel expenses, which is great.  Rather than work out the running costs of the cycle journey, I put in the £3 return equivalent bus fare.  The payslip showed that they'd paid me £3, net of income tax.  They didn't pay me for the lecture, but they taxed my bus fare!  Um ...  given that they've already wasted I don't know how much money on making the actual transaction, I'm not going to waste any more of their time by pointing this out ...

I've been practising or rehearsing for several days in a row now: this takes a bit of getting used to.

Thursday 29 November 2007

I'm back home from a very useful day in London rehearsing with Mhairi and Alison for next week's tour. As Alison put it, these concerts have been in the book for three years, and we've only decided what we're playing the week before! Lots of fun to be had with the Scots Musical Museum: it's not often you sit around with a group of musicians all of whom have their own facsimile copy of the whole thing. And it's only when you really explore it with a singer in the room that you realise what a genius Robert Burns was, in putting such a fantastic collection together in the last decade of his life. Mhairi says it's a real desert island book - it would keep you happy for a very long time.

I managed to sleep through the London journey in both directions, as I took the wonderfully civilised sleeper south, and then when flying back, I got woken up on landing, having been unaware of having taken off in the first place. I've also worked out how to carry a proper aluminium water bottle and a hipflask full of good whisky onto a plane despite the security restrictions (I hope this is legal now that I'm admitting to it - someone tell me if it isn't). The water bottle has to be visible, empty and closed at the x-ray machine - fill it up afterwards - and the hipflask goes in your transparent bag of 100ml-or-less liquid containers: bingo!

The other day I sent out an email to the dance band inviting suggestions for repertoire, and already Rob MacKillop is self-appointed class swot, as he sent everyone mp3s by return, and PDFs of scores notated at two different pitches. I can't compete with that - I'm going to be class dimbo. Or the slightly bumbling science teacher who has to be reminded to put his safety goggles on, or told that the back of his jacket is covered in chalk.

Monday 26 November 2007

Greenfinches are fighting over peanuts, and fieldfares are calmly eating out fallen and not-yet-fallen apples in the garden.

The study is even tidier than usual today after the Avison Ensemble rang last night to ask if they could borrow my harpsichord for a recording this week. So Jo Green and I packed it into her car this morning and off it went to Newcastle. That should get it warmed up nicely in time for next week's tour with Mhairi and Alison. Whether I'm warmed up nicely is another matter of course.

Over the weekend I compiled a CD of stuff that I've recorded over the last year.  Normally I would use it to produce some sort of professionally-hopeful demo, but this time, given the expectations of the public these days to get their music for free, it's more of a Christmas present to give away.  It's also a good way for me to draw a line under recent recording activity, and concentrate on playing for the next three weeks.

I've just taken Susie to her first ABRSM piano exam, which seemed to go well. I'm not sure what my attitude to these exams is (or which of us was the more nervous). To be honest, my attitude is probably dependant on the results, but I was never any good at examinable musical skills until I got to university.  I even failed my LTCL performer's diploma - I don't think it's lost me any work.

Thursday 22 November 2007

Happy St Cecilia's Day. Classic FM's Arts Daily podcast features Alison talking about Katherine's Get a Life Fund and tonight's concert. Listen or download it here. 

Not to be left out, I'm on WNYC's Soundcheck podcast 'The Day the Music Died' talking about something quite different here.

later
An excellent day off so far. A brief outing to Byres Road got me a haircut and a big tub of University Café icecream for a tenner, and in the post from Germany arrived DVDs of Step Across the Border (which I've been trying to find for about a decade) and Touch the Sound: perfect St C's day material.

This photo was taken just after my brief appearance on last night's Jazz House on Radio Scotland, where as a member of the No Music Day Police Squad I arrested Keith Bruce for playing a mbira. And no, it wasn't meant to be revenge for giving us an ambivalent review in The Herald in the summer ... that was fair enough.

L-R: DMcG, Stephen Duffy, Muslim Alim, Sushil K Dade, Bill Drummond, Keith Bruce, David Shrigley, Rosina Bonsu

Tuesday 20 November 2007

It feels like I'm slowly coming out of musical hibernation. I spent a little time this morning improvising into the computer on top of the clunky reggae groove I'd put down just before bed last night, and then started to engage with the contents of forthcoming concerts (now listed here) by phoning up musicians and putting programmes together. I might even play some exercises and get my fingers working a bit before the day is out.

Strange to be planning music again just in time for No Music Day tomorrow. Speaking of which, New York readers might be able to hear me and Bill Drummond on WNYC's Soundcheck program(me) tomorrow afternoon.

Sunday 18 November 2007

Yes, it is me quoted at the end of this article in today's New York Times. But The Scotsman got the best photo.

And there's another new tune on my myspace page. Suggestions for a title gratefully received. Recorded at lunchtime today when I should probably have been doing something else.

Alison was on the radio this afternoon talking about The Catherine Wheel concert this Thursday - details here.

Saturday 17 November 2007

It's been in the back of my mind for some time to do some reading on what listening is. As I've gradually become convinced that good listening is what makes a good musician, I figured that learning some basic scientific facts on how listening works might be a good idea. Having read some Pauline Oliveros (I can't find a copy of Software for People anywhere though) I was looking for something a bit less mystical. 

Living a short bike ride from a large university library has its advantages, so last night I was trawling the Physiology, Psychology and Anthropology shelves for suitable reading. And the first thing that struck me was how little material there was. I was expecting to be have a choice of reading, but in most departments there was only one book, compared to several or a whole shelf-full devoted to sight.  Enough to keep me occupied for a few weeks though.

I also couldn't resist picking up a copy of Noise/Music: A History, which looked like my kind of book, but on a cursory two-minute flick-through I spotted two obvious factual errors and more mentions of Hegelianism and Adorno than is really credible in a book published in 2007. There are some good things in it, but I get the feeling that when academics write about rock music or its relations, they often feel the need to overload their prose and make it superficially 'academic', to justify writing about such stuff in a research-funded environment. It can make the results less than readable and sometimes rather meaningless, whereas an unashamed rock journo can get to the heart of the matter more quickly without having to justify his research grant.

I could easily devote another week full-time just to getting my study tidy, so I have to try to find a balance between improving my workspace and actually doing some work. I've got a growing pile of notes to learn now too, so I'd better get my fingers working again on something other than incomprehensible guitar noise.

Yesterday, I also left a roadsign peeking out from a large building by the Clyde.

Thursday 15 November 2007

It's amazing how much time can be taken up by the simple tasks of putting up some shelves and installing and configuring computers. The business of preparing workspace means that very little work actually gets done. So sorry to everyone whose emails and phone calls I've been neglecting: I'll catch up eventually.

In the unearthing of piles of stuff around my study I found a little clip-on piezo-electric pickup that I bought a couple of years ago to try out on melodica (all it picked up was keyclicks). I stuck it on the headstock of my newly-rewired electric guitar and it made a pretty good attempt at picking up the sound from the 'dead' half of the strings. It sounded even better on ukelele. So tonight in a spare half hour I recorded some stereo two-handed tapping nonsense on both instruments. I quite like listening to it but I don't suppose anyone else will: the fascination is in the changing sonic relationship between the two lengths of the same string.

Amongst the study reconfigurations, I've got rid of my landline and fax machine, so more apologies to anyone who now tries to call me on the number I had for the last 20 years. Mobile only now. We have a home phone here of course, but the number is a closely guarded secret from anyone in the music business. 

Sunday 4 November 2007

I completely forgot that I'd taken this photograph on the way to Fred Frith's improvisation workshop last weekend. It seemed singularly appropriate.

On the subject of national campaigns, you can find out when to complain about your local post office being closed here. Both post offices that I use regularly are for the chop.

Saturday 3 November 2007

At my desk, after a morning visit to our local church's annual November jumble sale where I bought my old bike two years ago. This morning's bargain was a pile of vinyl including several mono Beatles LPs - mono copies of Revolver in good nick don't come along at 50p very often. It really does sound better than the stereo, honest! 

Andrew dropped in yesterday, and with his encouragement, I've finally started to get my head around some of next year's gigs. So I have a wee trail of post-it notes around my desk, each of which represents an empty space (usually a concert programme) to be filled. January will see the first outing of our Scottish Dance Band, which will only play music from traditions other than the usual fiddle/accordion one. I think it will be a lot of fun, and it's also a continuation of our many years trying to persuade people that Scottish music doesn't necessarily always sound the way people think it's going to. Speaking of which, the new edition of John Purser's indispensably opinionated Scotland's Music book is now out at last. Get one. And not just because John's very nice about me in the acknowledgements.

If you're in a buying mood, I've also added some more product to our CD shop.

One idea that came together in my head while talking to the students at the RSAMD on Wednesday was the homogenising effect of the recording industry on the early music world. It now feels like there is a kind of global consensus on how to play 'baroque' music: a Japanese group sounds much like a Canadian one, which sounds much like an English one, or whatever. Now in the 18th century this would have been quite a ridiculous idea: a group in Paris would sound completely different from a group in Lisbon or Venice or Prague. The musicians in each place would be surrounded by different folk musics, dance different dances, and come from different musical backgrounds. And they would only rarely hear musicians from another cultural centre.

You can trace the 20th century homogenisation through the recordings particularly of the 1970s and 80s, as the groups begin to copy each other's records, which is great in terms of musicians from different parts of the world being able to play together easily, but ultimately it makes for dull music. Eventually it always comes out the way you expect it to, and there are groups all over the world doing pretty much exactly the same thing. What a waste of effort! Why bother? Then when someone comes along who sounds different (like our very own Mr Greenberg) they get listened to with suspicion by the 'consensus'.

When I was an undergraduate at York University, one of the first things I learnt was to be suspicious of tradition. The collegiate/cathedral choral tradition (in York maintained by the Minster) is still seen even now as the most appropriate way to perform the choral music of the 16th and 17th centuries, but a cursory study of the music of Gibbons and his ilk shows that there are many aspects of the music that don't survive in such performances. But don't get me started on the effect on British musical culture of the whole English choral tradition or I'll start ranting ...

later
There's a new tune on my myspace page, for those who are interested.

Wednesday 31 October 2007

I was lecturing at the RSAMD this morning, and I suggested that when playing anything older than contemporary music, you should adopt the attitude of a tribute band, and then decide how historically accurate in every detail you would like or can afford to be. I don't think the analogy is a silly one. If you're going to play Beethoven, I'd rather you worked out how far you were going to emulate Beethoven, than how much you fit into this or that interpretative tradition. Because at the end of the day, Beethoven is the star attraction and the major talent. No-one going to hear an Abba tribute band gives a toss what particular formula of tribute band it is, they want to hear recognisable Abba songs. Why should any of us be interested in who else's Beethoven yours sounds like? What's interesting is how much like Beethoven it is. But this is of course a far from simple thing to determine, given that he's been dead a long time and didn't conveniently leave behind a substantial catalogue of live DVDs.

Meanwhile, I've been arranging two of Katherine's tunes for the Fund launch concert in a few weeks. 

I have a huge pile of listening and reading material here too: keeping my reading brain distracted for the last couple of days have been Deep Listening by Pauline Oliveros, whose writing was recommended to me by Fred F and others in Aberdeen, and on a more worldly level, the new one from Adrian Tomine. Tony Currie lent me a pile of old testcard music too - I'm searching for the tune I taped off the TV when I was 8 (and of course lost soon afterwards). 

Tonight, while I was being entertained by guisers on the front step, a hopelessly misguided young woman was waiting behind them for her turn, not to be amusing, but to attempt to sell me double-glazing. When I finally succeeded in making it clear that I really didn't want an estimate for anything thanks, she left protesting 'But you didn't even give me any sweets!'  So I gave her some.

Also today, Bill Drummond sent me a wonderful photo of him on Beachy Head holding a four-metre-wide road sign. I'm sure he'll make it public by the 21st November at the latest ...

Sunday 28 October 2007
On the busy train home from Aberdeen
It's good occasionally to fulfil an ambition. If anyone asked me over the last few years which musician I would most like to work with, not that many people did, I would answer Fred Frith, for a variety of reasons. Not that I necessarily like everything he's done, or have collected all his records or anything, but that I really like the way he works, or as much as I've been able to gather of it. So the chance to join in his improvisation workshops as part of the Sound festival was just too good to pass up. Have melodica (and glockenspiel), will travel. And it was rewarding, enlightening, fun, difficult, hilarious, invigorating and tiring. That'll do.

The concert last night in Aberdeen's Music Hall with Fred, Philip Smith, and (Dame) Evelyn Glennie was pretty remarkable too.

So two whole days of really good musical experiences. That doesn't happen often.

Thursday 25 October 2007

I'm gradually uncovering more and more piles of paper in my study which require action. Until today, I hadn't even unpacked from August's trip to Canada. 

But also, despite a MIDI meltdown which I haven't figured out how to fix yet, this morning I recorded a first demo of a tune that popped out on our return from Lismore the other day. When that's not going round my head I've been listening to The Sugar Factory CD in anticipation of going to hear Fred Frith and Evelyn Glennie in Aberdeen at the weekend. 

Sunday 21 October 2007

Home, doing stuff. I got delivery of the new edition of the Marshall collections by the Highland Music Trust (highly recommended, and ridiculously cheap for what it is) and I realised that not having done my basic research about the tunes before writing the Lion CD programme notes, I hadn't credited William Marshall as the composer of the Duff set. Duh.

I have finally found a European supplier for Four O'Clock rooibos chai though: I've had an empty packet sitting on my desk for the last year to remind me, after drinking gallons of the stuff in Montréal.

Friday 19 October 2007
Lismore
Just when I thought I was somewhere remote, who should I bump into in the shop today but Mike Lean (last spotted back stage at the Tiger Lillies gig in August) and Patsy Seddon ...

Thursday 18 October 2007
on holiday, Isle of Lismore
We visited the absurdly spectacular Castle Coeffin today, a ruin on a hillock on a cliff.

It's very very quiet here but it's not isolated: a wee boat goes over to the mainland every hour from about 100 metres away, and it's a 20 minute bike ride to the only shop. The week's been more relaxing than I could have guessed, largely because here the car is not king. There are roads and cars, sure, but the cars form a small minority of road users. Perhaps it's because most of the stress of living in the city is car-related. Noise, danger, status, pollution, space: all of these are dominated by the car. Make the car subservient to other modes of transport, and life becomes quite sane all of a sudden. Am I over-simplifying here?

Talking of simplification, I've neglected all the books I've brought here in favour of John Carey's The Faber Book of Science from the house's well-stocked library, and I now understand for the first time what a black hole is.

Also on simplification, before we left I got sent the parts for a piece composed in the 1990s in which I agreed to play harmonium. The part is very simple but the rhythmic notation is complex, so that an occasional 'new music' player like me has to spend considerable time and effort decoding it. It feels like a very 20th-century and thus outdated way to notate music, leaving the musician in a powerless situation, a slave to counting complex microbeats for a very straightforward musical result. But then I've never been comfortable with the Boulez model of an army of highly skilled musicians spending weeks slavishly learning one small part of the god-like composer's new opus. Laziness on my part probably.

But it's important for any musician to be involved in music which is genuinely contemporary: playing all this old stuff, I don't mind working in a musical museum but I don't want to live in one. If you engage seriously only with old music, it can give you quite a bizarre cultural outlook.

Sunday 14 October 2007

Radio 4 listeners may have noticed that Katherine's tune Carson's Lilt is serving as the sig to this week's drama The Tenderness of Wolves. I think she might just have liked that. It certainly makes me smile anyway.

Friday 12 October 2007
flying north from Stansted - I must use the train more often, there's no excuse
This morning I sat in Ossie's barber shop in Camden, being expertly and soothingly separated from most of my hair, watched by photos of shorn Jonathan Miller, Alan Bennett and (Sir) Trevor McDoughnut, and also by Sara M-P (the real one, not a photo) eating baklava and drinking tea provided thoughtfully by Ossie himself. There was then time to enjoy the sculptures in Regent's Park before meeting Fiona Fraser at Tate Modern to look at the crack in the floor, and feast from wonderful bento boxes on the Stansted express. This seemed like a very good way to spend a morning off, which I'd built into my diary quite deliberately to stop me from working for a few hours.

Fiona and I were in London last night for reasons too bizarre to recount here, but it was a great excuse to meet John and Bar Purser (who'd flown in from Pisa) for an excellent dinner, with Matt Parkin and John's sister Geraldine. Duck gizzards passed my lips for what I think was the first time.

Wednesday 10 October 2007

Just home, late, from a very busy day, which was lightened by two phone calls. One, a serendipitous conversation with Fred Frith about improvisation workshops he's leading in Aberdeen in a few weeks' time: 'It's about learning how to listen' he said, at which point I said 'Can I come?'. And secondly, a call from Bill Drummond about this - what you can't tell from the photo is that the road sign is absolutely huge, about 4 metres across. (Don't go looking for it on the M74, he took it down again.) Now I don't think it's just a coincidence that the word Bill chose for the top of his posters is 'LISTEN'.

Tuesday 9 October 2007

Various things are gently coming together here. Concerts for the coming season are taking shape (not starting till January though), and my study is gradually changing shape. It's long overdue that I put the piles of stuff that surround me into more sensible and tidier places, and that I finally lose the dodgy shelves bought for a tenner in MFI in 1985, which list alarmingly when you get close. So a general re-organisation has started which will no doubt take several weeks: this week I've got rid of a bureau, and next weekend it will be my spare harmonium, which I've never actually played, as my trusty Estey is too good.  Soon to be decimated is my collection of melodicas ...

This morning the following phrase, from a lecture given by Patrick Macdonald to the Society of Teachers of Alexander Technique in 1963, grabbed me and didn't let go for a while: "the terrible urge to do, that overcomes all reason, and nullifies sensory awareness". He was talking about habitual physical movement and tension, but the phrase could equally well apply to certain kinds of habitual music-making. By the end of my lesson with Evelyn this morning, I had a list of ideas in my head on the subject of 'stop playing, and listen', which for once I remembered to actually type up into a coherent form. 

Wednesday 3 October 2007

Just back from London on the sleeper this morning. One lesson learned there was that if Bill Carter invents a new cocktail - the 'Tiger Lily' in this case - the chances are that it is semi-lethal. But while the effects began to wear off, I sat on his sofa fiddling with his new 19th-century guitar, on which he's going to make the first ever recording of Fernando Sor's music without fingernails.  

©2007 David McGuinness
all opinions are those of the author - you don't have to share them