Wednesday 26 July 2006
bedtime - Lunenburg, Nova Scotia
Well, I wonder if I should even attempt a chronological account of the last few days at Boxwood. I've just spent the first part of the evening playing in a ceili[dh] band along with Chris, DG, Paddy Keenan and plenty of others for dancing in the church hall. I'm staying as the very welcome guest of Fred and Patty Rhinelander in the Old Marine Hospital up on the hill looking over the old town. It's a fabulous place: if you want to buy it from them, the particulars are here, and I'm staying in the old four bed ward. Patty's breakfasts have become ever more elaborate, and my appetite has become ever more expansive as a result. Breakfast is developing into a very enjoyable sport.
OK, here goes with a potted version of the last few days with an addendum of random fragments.
Friday: I arrived in Halifax to be met by DG holding a mug of Earl Grey, and with a Chinese carry out stashed in the car, which we could eat before I tuned the harpsichord at the Maritime Conservatory. And it's a rather splendid instrument by William Dowd. 'That's not a conservatory instrument,' I said, 'it's from 1982 and there's not a scratch on it'. But they only got it recently. Lucky them.
Evening rehearsal with the Tempest folks was good way to start the week: a really nice bunch of people who were extremely patient with my jet lag and stiff fingers.
Saturday: just time for a bit of interaction with most of family Greenberg before Kate drove us to Lunenburg and another two rehearsals in the church. Marten Root began to relax properly after we told him over lunch that the concert wasn't actually that night. Meanwhile, Chris was in the kitchen down at Lunenburg Fire Hall preparing a Lobster Boil for about 100 people. By the time I got there after checking in with Fred and Patty, the place was packed and I couldn't make out anyone I knew, so I got my melodica out and joined Andy and Nick in the jazz band for most of their first set, desperately reading chord symbols from fake books. The lobster was great too.
This is how Chris prepares for a concerto broadcast - he'd just cooked steak and scallops for about 60 people while the rest of us rehearsed ...
Sunday was our big opening concert, which would have been a fairly straightforward baroque gig, were it not for the 'jolly boys' segment where I managed to play piano, harmonium and melodica - too many keyboards in one gig. I think I lose points for showing off. Chris introduced our trio as a 'parking lot band': we once stood in a parking lot and decided that the three of us would make a great band but we've never actually done anything about getting any work, we just do spots in other people's concerts. Marten accused me of being a typical Brit by telling the best gags (loosely about Balbastre) but he easily got the biggest laugh of the night himself, for immaculately timing his line about Frederick the Great being a 'bloodthirsty tyrant ... who played the flute'. There were at least 60 flute players in the audience.
I can't remember what DG said to introduce the encore of the Muffat G major passacaglia - something about it being music of pure joy I think - but playing it certainly was joyous at the end of a gig like that, with a packed and hugely enthusiastic audience: a good way to start a festival. I don't think I've ever mentioned to DG that it's one of my favourite favourite pieces of music too ...
just after the gig outside St John's Church, Lunenburg, NS
a few seconds later when I realise how wet DG's shirt is
Monday to Wednesday have now become a bit of a blur so here is a random list of things that occurred.
- DG acquired from Aysha Wills (pictured in the hat to the left of Chris's beer above) a new nickname of 'Smaw'. This derives from Seb Hunter's succinct description of Red Priest as 'Four middle-aged weirdos'. DG was recently deputising for Julia Bishop when she was on maternity leave, so SMAW stands for Substitute Middle-Aged Weirdo.
- I initiated Russ Ayres into the melodica brotherhood by taking him to Lunenburg's hardware store to buy a melodica maintenance kit: a philips screwdriver and a sawn-off chainsaw file. This gave me a profound sense of satisfaction for some reason. (Russ's wife Kathy took me to ER in Pittsburgh a few years ago when I had iritis ...)
- We're based in Lunenburg Academy (pictured right), which although it is a functioning elementary school, is really also a museum. Waxed wooden floors everywhere, a 1950s picture of the Queen looking down on you in every room, countless old fittings still intact and in use. At night the whole place looks like a cake. DG and I had the place to ourselves on Tuesday evening for a hysterically tired rehearsal where we spent most of the time laughing at one another.
- Somehow I don't seem to have any free time at all. I never made it out sailing despite several offers from people to take me, and I never even managed to cycle round the town. Next time I hope.
- It's very good to have played in the opening concert, as pretty much everyone at the festival knows who I am as a result. I don't have to try to sum up my musical life in a couple of pithy sentences, a task that usually turns me into Mr Reticent.
- I've been playing for and occasionally contributing to Marten's morning 415 classes, where I've learnt loads about attitude, research, 18th century practice, and how to entertain in a masterclass situation without resorting to cheap tricks. Really inspiring actually: I might stop using 'early music' as a term of abuse, even if only occasionally.
- Have I mentioned the copious amounts of good food? We've been eating communally in Lunenburg's Fire Hall (at the back of the town fire station). I brought supplies with me from Scotland of fruit, seeds, chocolate, and various tea bags, expecting to have to keep myself fuelled up. Pretty much none of it was required. Chris got the oatcakes, and the Greenbergs got the chocolate and the apricots.
- I wandered past the acoustically opulent gymnasium which was the harpsichord's lair today, stuck my head round the door to hear who was playing, and just had time to say 'that sounds nice' before Marie Marceau got up from the harpsichord to say 'Would you play for me in the Bach B minor sonata now?' 'OK.' 'I haven't played baroque flute for a few years.' 'No worries.' Then she started playing and I nearly fell off my chair at the abundance of music that came out. We only got a couple of pages in when someone else appeared with something more 'official' for me to do, so we never got to the end ... so many musical tendrils left hanging.
- I bought some Crocs at the chiropractor's shop on Wednesday. Black ones (I couldn't get orange). I bought them for gardening in, but judging from the advice in the shop and the number of participants wearing them here, they may come to see a lot more action than that.