Sunday 8 February 2004

A beautiful sunny snowy morning in Baltimore. On our arrival last night, we just had time for a relaxing beer before an unusual gig at Memorial Episcopal, the highlight of which was Chris kneeling in front of his amp to get Hendrix-style feedback while playing ... Scottish smallpipes. Sometimes these things just happen.

later
Today was a useful lesson in how the makings of a great gig are not necessarily within the musicians' control. OK, so we knew all the tunes, that's taken as read (usually). But the details were a bit less cut-and-dried.

We were playing this afternoon at Central Presbyterian church in Baltimore. No harpsichord this time, but instead they have a truly fantastic 3 manual neo-baroque organ by Casavant. Unfortunately there was no time to rehearse, and what's more, a communications failure somewhere down then line meant that our PA guy was about to leave the building (he changed his mind and stayed once he'd heard us). So we had only a 5 minute soundcheck, with most of the audience already in place, and I was playing this huge beast (and transposing Oswald's The Thistle into F sharp major into the bargain). I tried a few sounds out, sketched a possible registration scheme into my copy of the Muffat Ciacona, and got on with miking up the melodica, anticipating a scary ride.

BUT ... the audience (standing room only) were very much on our side from the first note, responding with total hush or impromptu dancing where appropriate, laughing at our jokes, and generally being very enthusiastic indeed. The sound was great, I could hear all the instruments for once (I was playing organ, harmonium, Steinway B piano and melodica), and how often do you get to jam like crazy on the piano in a set of clogs, and follow it up with a chaconne from 1690 on a perfectly voiced and historically appropriate organ? To a wide age-ranging audience that appreciates it all? Not often. So we played rather well. And several Scots and 2nd/3rd generation emigrés engaged me in conversation afterwards, mostly about football.

I ended up in Baltimore's James Joyce 'Irish pub' with Chris and Jody before heading back to Chris's place for the 'nectar of the gods', his bottle of 1977 Ardbeg. A good day.