Onstage

Saturday night find found Cuppa, Thesha, and AC (that's me) driving almost an hour through a snowstorm out to the tiny hamlet of Maberly. The weather was bad enough that Cuppa was all for turning back, but either my stupidity or doggedness (take your pick) prevailed, and we finally reached our destination. The occasion was to be my participation in my first instrumental concert ever. It took me over sixty years but not sixty-one years to make it onstage.

Those who have hung around this blog for awhile (and my goodness haven't there been great comings and goings in blogland?) will know that I, in what may have been a fit of dementia, began fiddle lessons just over a year ago. Then, this past September, I joined (sort of joined) the Blue Skies Community Fiddle Orchestra way out in Maberly (no, not Mayberry, Andy). When I add the phrase sort of to joined (above) I mean that I and three other beginners were rehearsed separately in a prep group. We learned the same repertoire as the others but not all of it and at a slower pace.

On Saturday evening we preppies joined the main group for their annual Christmas concert (yes, a Christmas concert on January the fifth). That's me (below) in my back row seat about a half hour before it all began. I was hidden so deeply back there (bald, smiling, to the left of centre) that I was almost never to be seen again, which was fine with me. (Due to the conditions, it's a very poor quality shot, but it's all that Cuppa was able to manage. I was out of flash range, so shutter speeds were slow and the photos blurry.)



Although I did more sitting than playing, I joined in on five pieces while two others that I knew (to some degree at least) were shelved at the last minute due to time constraints. I managed to play two of the five, Schottis fran Gelda (part of which is in the clip below) and Silent Night (where I even played harmony) fairly well. However, in all honesty I must confess to making some errors in the other pieces.

If you have played the very short video clip, you've quickly come to understand that we are a very amateurish ensemble. You know it, the audience knew it, and we players know and knew it. But we had fun; I think everyone did. There was a kind of joy and exuberance, and isn't that a large part of what music is supposed to be?

I think that fun and fellowship were perhaps the chief function of music for a long time in our history. People would come together, play together, and celebrate together. Unfortunately, this aspect is something that has been lost to some degree in modern times as song has largely evolved into performance art. As most of you well know by now, I like good music and fine performances too, but there's also something to be said for honest, participatory music.

To some extent this whole fiddling venture that I'm on feels like I am reclaiming something of my heritage. I can picture them, my forebears, back in England and Ireland participating either directly or as listeners in some sort of amateurish musical get together. And a small part of me feels that I am joining with them in a similar kind of melody. I do understand that I'll never be any good by any objective measurement, for even if I had the talent, which I don't, it's really too late for me to develop it to any degree. But playing brings me some joy and satisfaction regardless.

(PS: After that last paragraph, I feel it prudent to inform you that I don't exactly commune with my antecedents in some sort of mystical and magical daily ritual. It's just a passing feeling or thought that I sometimes have.)

(PPS: In case you're wondering, the weather had abated for the return trip and all was well: much to Cuppa's relief although she was not wholly pacified until we parked the car in the garage.)

A Night to Remember

Colour me surprised that some of you have asked about the concert. This guy thought that just about everyone was probably sick to death of my harping on about the concert and The Rankins. Well, maybe you are and are simply being nice.

On the other hand, you might be wondering why I haven't posted some sort of report already. It's hard to say, really. For whatever reason, I don't feel much like writing all of a sudden. That happens to me periodically — much to the relief and joy of thousands tens of bloggers. But I'm determined to make the effort this morning ... on which I didn't get out of bed until ten o'clock. While I'm not exactly an early riser (not a lark, I), it's pretty doggone unusual for me to cower under covers until such an indolent hour.

So ... so ... here's where I get bogged down because I don't know quite what I think. Perhaps I am a little disappointed after all of my expectations. That happens, doesn't it? At least it does to me. I go to a movie that I hear is great, and I am disappointed. I go to another flick somewhatgrudgingly because someone else wants to go, and I end up really liking it.

Here's the thing. It was held in an arena. So, right away, the sound quality takes some beating. I mean to say that nobody sounds as good in an arena as they do on a well-mastered studio album. And the seats were not at all comfortable. They were tiny with neither elbow or leg room. My seven-inches-shorter-than-I-am wife felt cramped by the lack of leg room, so you might imagine how confined I felt. As I ponder the venue, I am inclined to vow never to attend another concert in such a place. But I can't quite induce myself to go that far because I might. Yes, if The Rankins were to make another Reunion Tour (that's what it was called) in five years time, I might do it again (but I would try desperately to secure an aisle seat). There are also one or two other artists for whom I just might (or not) make an exception.

So, I guess that last statement tells you that, reservations notwithstanding, I am very, very glad that I went. They did a great job of performing old, new and varied songs for two solid hours without a break. The opening act played for about a half hour. It was a British guy, Seth Lakeman, who had a great voice and was a wonderful musician, but neither Cuppa nor I could understand a word that he said with his accent. He might as well have been speaking Spanish or what have you. But I was still impressed. I mean to say that most people can't understand what half the bands are nattering on about anyway. After the warm-up, there was about a 20 minute break before Jimmy, Cookie, Raylene, Heather and the rest of the band came onstage for their long, but seemingly very, very short, performance.

Yes, despite the unfortunate seating, time flew as the band delivered one wonderful rendition after another. In addition, Cuppa and I were tremendously fortunate to be seated near a bunch of enthusiastic kids, many from Cape Breton. While the majority of the audience was not young, there were also lots of exuberant youth in attendance. They hooted and hollered and their liveliness made the concert even more enjoyable. For the last song of the pre-encore part of the concert, on some sort of pre-arranged signal, a whole gaggle of these kids pranced to the foot of the stage and danced their way through The Mull River Shuffle. What a party that was!

That was right after the most amazing and touching rendition of Rise Again by Raylene who almost literally raised the rafters. She put everything that she possibly could into that song, so much so that it almost sends chills down my spine to recall it. They lost their brother, John Morris (a member of the band) in a car accident a number of years ago and their sister, Geraldine (a member of the initial Rankin Family group), just as the tour was to begin. They actually missed their first gig to attend the funeral. So, the song was fraught with even more meaning than usual, and, as I said, Raylene was absolutely awesome on it. (Rise Again is the song available in the sidebar if you haven't clicked on it ... and you haven't).

To top the evening off, we exited to a magical looking snowfall, not a heavy fall but a very pretty one. The magic was enhanced further when we still saw some people skating as we drove alongside the canal at 11:00 pm on a fine winter's night.

So, yes, the venue notwithstanding, it was a rather wonderful night. In addition to their music, they are just down home, aw shucks, uninflated ego, salt of the earth types. There wasn't one silly hat to be seen on the stage and no sunglasses or other sartorial nonsense, Some musicians don't need to distract you with buffoonery in order to entertain and enthrall you.

Bless you, Rankins, for a night to remember.