Hope you enjoy the tunage.

M.

Here’s the scoop: After meeting and date number three or so they start talking a little about their families. He says to her something like, “my Mum’s family comes from a little place in the Outer Hebrides of Scotland: Benbecula”. “Yikes”, thinks my sister – or something like that. That’s where my father’s mother comes from!

So it turns out that the Benbecula village, or maybe more rightly stated, “enclave of houses”, that is Torlum, Benbecula, forms a seriously common thread for both of them. On the birth of their first child I have a feeling they were on high alert for overly close eyes – or, worse, only one: mid-forehead.

Of course, all’s well but interesting to learn more of my brother-in-law’s family; most probably, my family.

Here’s a tune he passed to me. Provided here at his courtesy. I looked at this and thought right away that the way to find out more about it was to talk to Reay Mackay, a Godfather of North American piping.

Reay is a veritable fountain of piping knowledge, a child prodigy and so a person who has made music through a good chunk of 20th century piping life. In his insight to this tune, he didn’t disappoint.

This tune, “Alex MacMillan”, is my brother-in-law’s grandfather [**small world alert**born in Torlum one year after my grandmother with the same surname as my grandmother's mother, the 1891 Scottish census shows both families living in Torlum at that time ... I digress]. It was written by Donald Ewen Macpherson from Skye. Reay relayed yet another fascinating back-story to this manuscript [I admit: it's the second back-story that may interest you].

First, the tune is really good. We both agree, it’s full of merit, clearly written by an accomplished musician and completely playable and worthy of competition. Second, **small world alert** the manuscript is from the hand of Murdo MacLeod, one of Reay’s teachers and Benbecula emigrant – and, just by the way, a pupil of John MacDougall Gillies.

Reay said he could recognize Murdo’s hand anywhere and has copies of tunes written in the same stylish pen. So here we have a tune for a Benbecula man, composed by a Skyeman and in the hand of another Benbecula man – all immigrants to the Toronto-Hamilton area, you’d have to think they were all good pals.

But the really interesting thing about this is related to the composer of “Alex MacMillan”.

Donald Ewen Macpherson was something else: a real all-rounder. Not saying the guy could just play jigs and the big music, no, this guy could play the whole gamut of bagpipe music and highland dance, toss the caber and do all the heavy events – and do them well. In fact, as Pipe Major of the Royal Scots he won the wrestling championship of the British armed services [William Donaldson, “The Highland Pipe and Scottish Society: 1750-1950"].

Macpherson was a man cut from the all-rounder rough cloth of John MacColl and D.C. Mather. Though those guys, while Highland dancers [the kind of Highland dancing, by the way, the Gaelic College is so down on], didn’t seem as big on the heavy events. Not like our Donald Ewen Macpherson.

So what’s the deal with Donald Ewen Macpherson and his buckshot aim at all the prizes on offer at the Highland games?

We only have to look to Donaldson for a little insight. Referring to the early days of the twentieth century he notes the problem [p. 205] of the “same old names” turning up in the solo piping prize lists with the “struggling young player” never seeming to catch a break. I suggest that’s probably an age-old problem. Though pipers like Donald Ewen Macpherson had a solution to covering their travel – and other – expenses: they competed in all the events they were able:

“Given such difficulties, some young pipers preferred to concentrate on track and field events, where arcane considerations of authority and reputation did not predetermine the outcome, where they did not have to bear written accreditation from social superiors before they could even enter (as was the case with piping events at a number of games, including the Northern Meeting), and where victory and defeat were normally unequivocal. Robert Meldrum recalled one of his own pupils, Donald Ewen Macpherson of Skye, ‘who was a most promising piper, playing some splendid piobaireachds, but he preferred the athletics side of the games…”

Indeed he did. He emigrated to Toronto and, according to Reay, opened a gym on Queen Street in Toronto, one of the city’s main streets. Signs, like this tune, point to his continued involvement in the piping world.

So, there you have it: an interesting story and damned fine tune – all courtesy of my brother-in-law.

That’s Brother-in-law: thanks to our small world, with the biggest of upper case Bs.

M.

PS. Interesting to note that on emigrating to Canada Alex MacMillan joined the 16th Battalion (The Canadian Scottish) and in WWI fought at the Somme serving in the same regiment, and battles, as piper James Richardson, VC.

Odd to me (and that upper case “O” would stand even without kicking off a sentence) that the new leadership of the GC, namely Rodney MacDonald – himself a terrific fiddler – should give the big welly boot hoof to piping and, seemingly, Highland dancing. Gone from the curriculum is Great Highland Bagpipe music as played around the world and in its place something called “Cape Breton piping” or “kitchen piping”.

I can guess what is meant by “Cape Breton piping”: it’s essentially bagpipe music that evokes the fiddle and, some might say, the sounds of Gaelic language. But “kitchen piping”? Kitchen piping as we know it today are words used in the wider piping world to describe showy, usually newish, music performed in an informal setting – like the kitchen (hello!). While “kitchen piping” may’ve been a phrase used for eons it’s only been in the last 20 years or so that the phrase has gained any general currency. I’ve never heard it used synonymous with bagpiping in CB.

The best player of piping in the CB style that I know is John MacLean, an old friend who now lives outside of Halifax. John’s Dad was a fiddler but John’s bagpiping was developed in a world of rich history and strong musical discipline: the competitive bagpipe world. I think back to the comment made to me this past summer by the great South Uist piper Rona Lightfoot, “you can’t make much music without some technique”. John MacLean is an example of a piper with strong technique that has easily adapted to the piping-fiddle style needed for supporting music for dancing, or “square sets”. I can tell you: of the relatively few pipers with connections to CB, John MacLean’s technical excellence is not common.

From my earliest experience journeying through CB I could feel a strong sense of the bagpipe as made for steerage and the fiddle first class. Yes, CB experienced great luck in landing expert old-school (nineteenth century) pipers on her shores, but that excellence was never sustained. Perhaps the fiddle co-opted the greatness of the old pipers. Certainly without bagpipe music the Cape Breton fiddle repertoire is but a hollow stump. And not just old bagpipe music: we commonly hear the brilliance of “competitive military-style pipers” throughout the CB fiddle repertoire: “Kintara to el Arish” (William Fergusson, 7th H.L.I), “Inverary Castle” and “John MacDonald of Glencoe (Willie Lawrie, Argyll & Sutherland Highlanders), “John Morrison, Assynt House”, “The Conundrum” (Peter R MacLeod, Scottish Rifles) – this to name but a tiny few.

There’s great glory and tradition and, dare I say, Gaelic-ness to today’s “competitive” bagpipe music. It’s a rich, lively tradition with huge vibrancy. It evolves. It moves forward. It influences, even CB fiddlers – whether they know it or not.

A shame the GC has sought to look further inward as the institution, assumedly, seeks to grow and move forward and be acknowledged as relevant both to CB pipers — and those beyond the Causeway.

St Ann smoke signals suggest this is unlikely.

M.

Here’s me playing my solo spot at the May 21, Toronto Police Pipe Band show at the el Mocambo club in Toronto.

The tunes are:

The very old Irish air “Samhradh, samhradh” (Summertime), and some jigs starting with “Dr Angus MacDonald’s Off to Skye”. I wrote this tune as a send-off to Dr A. as he and Emily and family left Cape Breton after a long stay and returned to Scotland – Skye, in fact. You can find it in my third book of music. I think this tune is a good solo competition tune. It’s been pretty friendly to me, anyway.

Donald MacLeod’s “Maid in the Glen”, a great tune from his “Book 3″, follows. My two-parter, “The North Shore Sisters”, from my fourth book and written for Ryan and Shannon MacDonald (from North Shore, Cape Breton) around about the time they played in Peel Regional Police Pipe Band when I was Pipe Major. George Grant’s superbly musical, “Marjorie Lowe” is next. You can find this tune in Seumas MacNeill’s first book of music. I play Reay Mackay’s neat little variation (or “tasty”, as Reay might say) on the repeat of the last part.

“The Bottler” closes out the set as Ian K MacDonald joins in for his bit. I made this tune the year I guested with the Lothian and Borders Police Pipe Band. It was named for a yet-to-be-named member who had the unfortunate habit of blootering-up almost every competition.

MG solo at el Mocambo

So there you go.

Happy Canada Day!

M.

Anyway, my bit was a comparative look at pipe band ensemble. I checked out competitive orchestras – yes, they do compete – American high school concert bands and British brass bands. I learned a lot in my seeking out of information related to other competitive musical worlds. For instance, I can now tell you with great certainty that it’s scarily, freakishly and jaw-droppingly amazing how close the British brass band world mirrors that of the pipe band. Maybe a blab for another day.

But one of the biggest surprises, or “a-ha moment” is related to music copyright [here's me grabbing the chance to poke fun at corporate jargon: for those not exposed to the lingo, an "a-ha moment" is what people in corporate meeting rooms everywhere, it seems, say when they learn something new].

I’ve always imagined myself pretty savvy when it comes to copyright. I’ve a pretty good understanding of my rights as a composer, a publisher and what needs to be done when I make a record. But I’d never thought much about the licensing of music when it came to the subject of live piping, or pipe band performance. We so easily bend to the path of least resistance – the way it’s always been done. Sometimes, anyway!

Other competitive musical worlds – like those mentioned here – slavishly follow the laws of copyright to the letter. All scores must be provided in advance of a contest. Proof of publisher’s permission to both reproduce scores (those scores provided to adjudicators) and perform non-public domain compositions live, must be given to event organizers. This requirement is provided plainly in the rules of entry – not talking fine print here – it is baseline info provided up-front on entry forms. Penalty points are assigned musical combos that fail to follow copyright rules.

When it comes to copyright generally and performance licensing specifically, the piping world and, especially, the pipe band world, well, like a stop sign in Italy, it’s viewed only as a suggestion.

What exactly am I talking about? Well, consider this from SOCAN, Canada’s performing rights organization (and there’s an agency for anyone in the world looking to be aligned with one). These agencies exist to help protect the intellectual rights of composers and help get them what they’re due. They collect licence fees, as set by their national or organizational copyright board, from anyone playing or broadcasting live or recorded music.

In Canada, according to the Copyright Act, any public performance of copyright-protected musical works requires a licence. The Copyright Act is law. So, when a song – or tune – gets played in public, music creators (not just the performers) are entitled to collect their licence fees. This is the way of things in most countries; certainly so in Canada, the U.S., New Zealand, Australia, South Africa, France, Italy – and the United Kingdom. The list does go on.

Not unlike high school concert bands competing in the United States, pipe bands pretty much everywhere, need to have publisher’s permission, or a publisher’s license, to perform a musical piece. All those ditties we play at pipe band contests the world over – the ones that are not seriously oldie-goldies, like Scotland the Brave, need a license.

Like it or not, without a license, we’re breaking the law.

And that is the truth.

M.

But his stuff, unlike, say, Cathy-Ann MacPhee’s, is not what I listen to; it’s not music that tends to make my day – or night – better. And we all know music has that magical power…if directed to the right ears.

But just because someone hasn’t dialled in to your music, well, that doesn’t make it any less great.

Jimi Hendrix is said to have revolutionized how the electric guitar is played. He coaxed musical sounds from the instrument never heard before. He was a great innovator; the first to use “feedback” as a part of guitar performance. Some say he was the inventor of the rock solo. I can’t say but do know all signs out there, out there in the world, point to musical greatness.

So I look to Jimi for some solid advice [funny he should have the stereotypical Glaswegian name: old joke - tram driver to one-legged fare: "How ye gettin' oan Jimmy"...tip of the hat to Peter Aumonier for that one].

Jimi Hendrix gave us great advice; advice that applies to pipers (or any musical instrument, or almost anything, really).

In 1968 he told Guitar Player magazine:

“You have to stick with it. Sometimes, you are going to be so frustrated you want to give up the guitar — you’ll hate the guitar. But all of this is just a part of learning, because if you stick with it, you’re going to be rewarded.”

Really simple stuff. But simple advice, especially from a great, tends to resonate. It does with me.

Patience has it’s own reward – and so does any attempt to master the Great Highland Bagpipe.

And another piece of advice that bolts on nicely to this? A bit I’ve always remembered from Bill Livingstone courtesy of John MacFadyen: “if it was easy everyone would do it.”

Stick with it.

M.

I always thought those old cheesy Japanese movies from the 1950s might benefit from a little kick, a little something to give them a boost. I’m not talking Seven Samurai or Rashômon here, I’m talking about movies like those from the Godzilla and Mothra franchises (did they call ever call old movie serials “franchises”?).

Anyway, I thought how great it would be for one to snag a pipe band soundtrack, music to go along with the badly dubbed English.

There must be something about the Japanese language that offers much less concision than English. It must take way more words to say in Japanese what might be said in English. Lips always seem to move long after – a second or two – the English dubs are heard.

Here’s a little something to pass a few minutes of your time. The soundtrack is the Toronto Police Pipe Band from their “Live at the el Mocambo: Raw and Off the Floor” recording from last year. You can download tracks here.

楽しむ

M.

Anyway, I say you can either play in a band – or not. A band is a fragile thing. A band is a crazy little ecosystem. An ecosystem: a system formed by the interaction of a community of organisms with their environment. Yep. That’s a pipe band. When it comes to a healthy pipe band and a membership that’s firing away on all cylinders I say it’s chronically crappy attendees that are the global warming to the pipe band “ice cap”.

In the reality that is the pipe band world of the 21st century there will always be valued members of the pipe band “ecosystem” that have been granted by membership sporadic attendance status due to distance, or, some seriously extenuating situation. These are exceptions to the rule. [A funny thing, from my experience: these exceptions would be "core members" should they reside closer to the pipe band home.]

Anyway, in the end, it’s really simple: you can do it – or you can’t.

As I trudge forward, gain a bit of what I hope is wisdom, it seems to me, more and more, that the true definition of a good pipe band differs very little from that sometimes said of a good friendship: one feels better after having spent time with a good friend. So true of a good pipe band, regardless of experience level.

If you avoid pipe band practices – or anything – or anyone – for that matter … time to make a change. If it really is worth doing, it’s worth doing right.

Making good music with like-minded people is a very special thing.

One to be treasured – not avoided.

M.

But, really, its when pipe band music is talked about that we most often hear the most intense debates. I guess its due, in part, because there’s more people involved. I think, though, its more the sports-like, hyper-competitive, team elements that characterize the pipe band movement that makes for the fertile ground of relentless pipe band music debate.

And what’s debated? The merits of the three-pace roll introduction, the size of pipe bands, the pitch of drums, the pitch of chanters, the merits of tenor drumming and “functional” tuning, “mid sections”, what makes a melody, what rhythms are acceptable, harmony, what’s too much harmony, what’s not enough, the list is freaking endless. The core of all this contention can be summed up in one word: tradition. Perceptions of tradition form the baseline for the debate. Everyone has an idea of what is the tradition and most are ready to take on anyone who might challenge that idea.

Its easy to get wrapped up in it. And its easy to think its the kind of (mostly) parochial debate that only happens in the Great Highland Bagpipe tradition. Not so. Surprise.

The other day I caught a radio interview with the famous Inuit throat singer, Tanya Tagaq Gillis. From Cambridge Bay, Nunavut, she is one of the leading exponents of the ancient art of Inuit throat singing. Inuit throat singing has been passed on countless times from one generation to the next. Traditional form, intonation and style is carefully taught. Sound familiar?

Tanya Tagaq is traditionally trained but something of a bad girl in Inuit throat singing circles. She draws on her current musical influences and experiences (she draws on herself) and interprets the tradition. She’s collaborated with the likes of Björk and others and while she’s broadened the once small audience of Inuit throat singing her contemporary stylings are not always appreciated by the hard-core Inuit tradition-bearers. They view her as “out there” and not true to the “tradition”.

To paraphrase her comments, Tanya believes that while the tradition must always be respected its one that lives and must be reflected in the here-and-now and in the context of the lives of those that interpret it.

Says Tanya, “The world would still be flat if scientists weren’t brave and willing to go against the system”.

Tanya Tagaq Gillis’ way of seeing tradition makes sense to me.

M.

And what’s that percentage? GHBs represent about 0.0014931492726393354 of the world’s population. More or less.

Should pipers feel vulnerable? I think I really refer to the pipe and not the piper so, I put it this way: is the playing of the GHB an at-risk art form?

I’m not sure. In a way, I guess, the GHB is extremely vulnerable: the music is very loud and in-your-face. It usually takes patience and thought to take in, understand and appreciate — all rare commodities in our modern, urban, short attention-spanned world. Oh yeah, and not many people play the GHB.

Bagpipe music is not pop music. It never will be. It’s a genre of folk music that survives in the twenty-first century world thanks to passionate pipers [and competitions - note to self: blog this subject]. Sure there are a few parts of the world where the GHB will always find a welcome home and a place to be heard, like, say, the north of Scotland, but a continued and thriving global GHB depends on passionate pipers, particularly those who teach.

I used to teach a lot. Teaching bagpipes kept a little money in my pocket through my late teens and well into my twenties. I had the time, interest (and need for cash) that provided the push that saw me teach scores of pipers. It takes time and real energy to devote quality teaching time to an aspiring piper. Today I wish I had more of it. But we all do what we can and most of us contribute to the art form the best way we’re able.

Passing on what we know to other pipers is vital for a continued and vibrant art form, one that the GHB represents.

Hats off to those of us who devote time and energy to teaching, to creating a new generation of GHBers. If you can, teach.

For me, yep, I’ve always kept the group teaching, the workshops, going but can say today I have only one pupil.

Well, it’s a start.

And for a look at what triggered today’s homily, here’s one of my prize pupils, Jenny Hazzard of Woodbridge, Ontario and Edinburgh – one of the best pipers anywhere. I stumbled on this photo today.

Here’s Jenny playing one of her first tunes on the pipes, performed in the basement of my parent’s house on Coppermill Drive, Toronto:

She’s hardly changed a bit! Go Jenny!

M.