From time-to-time, in the last year, I’ve heard the hint of a piper from the other side of the course [I'm super lucky, I think, my house backs on a golf course - though I don't golf]. Anyway, over the summer I’ve occasionally pulled weeds to the far-off strains of ‘Barren Rocks of Aden’ and other assorted tunes of glory – a very good thing, I say. Anyway, I’ve also heard chanter strafing. It’s the only phrase I can think to describe it.

C.S. is not pretty. I’ve done my share of it, no doubt. But man-oh-man, when you hear it repeatedly, well, it’s absolutely repellent. Not a good bagpipe marketing ploy. In C.S. it’s like a piper’s hands are squeezing out every drop of bottled up and mostly-insane nervous energy. Not melodic. Not rhythmic. Not pretty.

I wonder today why we do it (and we all do it). I’ve heard inexperienced players do it, I’ve heard gold medallists and world champion pipe majors do it, and, as I said, I’ve done it. It’s a bagpipe thing. Why?

I can only think that we chanter-strafe because we marvel that our fingers move at all. We need to know, before we play a tune, that there are in fact nine notes on the chanter. We strafe in a sort of celebration that the notes are roughly in the right place, from a pitch perspective. We strafe our chanters because we can.

C.S. may not sound great but our reasons for doing it seem sort of reasonable. Just sayin’.

M.

That’s it.

M.  

Here’s a jig I made not too long ago, “Well Away”. It’s in my newish book (5) and one I imagine is OK. It’s of middling technical difficulty in the big scheme of jigs (is there a big scheme of jigs? Can you imagine!). If “Cork Hill” is at the easy end and “Donald MacLennan’s Exercise” at the tricky end, “Well Away” is in the middle.

The most challenging part in playing this tune is probably in the area of rhythmic control, especially in the last part. Admittedly this part “riffs” on the second part of Donald MacLeod’s “Glasgow Police Pipers” and, maybe, Colin Magee’s “Troy’s Wedding“. I’d like to think it’s still orginal enough and not unduly derivative (note to self/you: in composing tunes avoid “derivative” at all costs).

On the mp3 recording here (see below – click the arrow) I play first quite slow and open and follow up with a rendition of moderate tempo. I’ll try and do more of these tunes (score with sound file) if there’s any interest.

I think I’ll add “Well Away” to my competitive jiggy repertoire.

Sorry about the title. I could’ve done better. The true story on the name – 3 out of 10 on the “Lame-o-meter”: I was stuck with a printer’s deadline and had a number of tunes still embarrassingly nameless.

I hope you find interesting.

M.

Well Away_JIG_By_MichaelGrey_dunaber_dot_com.mp3

I have occasional moments of self-awareness and I am happy to say that I have had the great good fortune – and that’s how I see it – to have been bestowed the “great hands (shame about the face)” line.  I’ve always quietly worn it as a badge of honour.

We all know there’re nine measly notes on our scale [hey - reminds me of a great CD!], no rests, dynamics or much else to add colour to our music.  So we are left with technique.  Without technique where’s the music?

I don’t believe that pipers need virtuosic technique to create pleasing music.  I do believe that pipers need to be aware of their technical style — including their strengths and limitations.  It seems to me pleasing the ear of a listener — and your own — is so much more satisfying than an unpleasant blootery strafing of notes.

I just uploaded to youtube.com John Walsh’s solo from a 1989 concert in Edinburgh – and seeing that video prompted this note.

John is a fantastic piper (you may know, by the way, he currently plays with Shotts & Dykehead). In fact, I owe a great deal of my piping to his good teaching.  But what always strikes me about his playing is his technique: his light, barely-moving hands create a really effective precision of rhythm and music.  John’s a light-fingered technician.  While he’s one of the lightest (and effective) technicians I can think of he’s in the company of many others: the late John Burgess, Alasdair Gillies and Brian Donaldson jump to mind, too. 

The lightsome classics like, “Mrs MacPherson of Inveran“, “Cockerel in the Creel” and “John MacColl’s March to Kilbowie Cottage” were tailor-made for interpretation by the  light-fingered. 

Outside of a pipe band I never play “Mrs MacPherson of Inveran”.  “That just doesn’t suit you”, said John Walsh years ago.  And he was right.  My technique is “heavy”.  I’m more a “Sandy Cameron”, “Glengarry’s Gathering” kind of player - probably the product of John Wilson’s teaching in Ontario. 

John Wilson lost parts of his left/top hand in a WWI-era explosion and went on to become one of the 20th century’s greats.  He fought technique – and he won - his legacy is big, hyper-clean technique (listen to Bob Worrall or Bill Livingstone, for examples). 

“Heavy” usually means micro-larger gracenotes, more emphasis on low g in leumluath, taorluath and crunluath movements.       

I am not suggesting “heavy” or “light” fingered technicians have a set list of appropriate tunes – not at all. 

I am suggesting that we all should have a clear understanding of what kinds of compositions best suit our technical predispositions – and look to play tunes that make the most of our technical abilities. 

We’ll all be happier – including the listening public (such as it is).

 M.

OK.  So the secret to reliable technique: first, it’s a given that you practice hard.

Here, though, is the super-lucky-hyper-magnetic secret: the ’d’ gracenote.  Yep, that lowly mid-chanter blip, the ‘d’ gracenote.

Consider the bedrock of Highland bagpipe technique: ‘b’ and ‘c’ doublings, tachums, leumluaths, taorluaths, crunluaths, ‘gde’ triplets, what’s the common thread? There’s no question: the ‘d’ gracenote.   

When we “miss” technique, or under-execute a  ’d’ gracenoted embellishment it’s more often than not the ‘d’ gracenote that has under-performed or misfired.

It makes good sense to me that we isolate this gracenote and really work the muscles that create the sound.  I’ve always done this.  It seems to work for me.

So what to do?

Sound large, oversized ‘d’ gracenotes on every bottom hand note that you can (not floppy, but exaggerated versions of the gracenote with a healthy degree of tension, or crispness – never tight, by the way).

Start with a chunky ‘d’ gracenote on ’c', follow with ’b', and on to low ‘a’ and low ‘g’.  

Repeat back up to ‘c’.  Repeat this up-down sequence slowly and correctly a dozen times.

Once you have mastered this mix it up a bit by increasing tempo and, if you really get ambitious, different sequences of the sub ‘d’ notes.

Follow this approach as a regular part of your practice schedule and it’ll be a cold day at Glenfinnan when you ever chance missing technique again.  Guaranteed.