This is what I do on Wednesdays...
Usually the kids are with me and Everest plays guitar. This week the kids are at Camelot, which means I went alone -- and had every single brain cell to myself, and no trying to balance the needs of those who want to stay vs. those who want to head home.
Some of you will remember that I've been attending this session now for about six years. It used to be my 'night out alone,' though that quickly morphed into "quality time with Everest" and then "Mom-and-boys night out." Several of the guys in this photo have been regulars since that time. The guitarist (lower right) is the one who first encouraged Everest to bring his guitar and helped to patiently mentor him into becoming the fine guitarist he is today. (And if you've heard Everest play, you'll know I'm not exaggerating when I say fine.) He's one of the "hosts," though at this session, all the hosts do it make sure it happens; it runs itself.
The fiddler sort of hidden behind him is the one who was most patient and awe-inspiring when I first started out. He's a somewhat legendary New England contradance fiddler and he "wrote the book" of standard contradance tunes for the Northeast. He is also very modest and generous with his support, at least to me. Yesterday he came over in the afternoon and taught me a tune -- at my tempo -- and then we had dinner and went together to the session. The get-together was his idea, and though by all definitions it was a lesson, he framed it as a mutual exchange, and acted like I was doing him the favor of dinner with tunes thrown in.
Unfortunately, my neighbor hit his parked car while we were playing, which took up precious time to sort out and report. But we left it that he'll come back in two weeks when the kids are away again. I am very, very fortunate.
So, on to the session. It was a smaller session than usual, but this one is bigger than the old one used to be. Old one being the old location. The session changed pubs about a year and a half ago, and added to my move, I went from having to drive 45 minutes each way to having to drive about 3 minutes (or walk). So last night, there were eleven players.
In my own practice, I am working on technique (which means playing slowly with a metronome most of the time) and jigs. Jigs are in 6/8 time and reels are in 4/4 time, so a jig played at the same speed as a reel means the jig goes a little slower (3 beats to a measure instead of 4).
Also, jigs tend to get played in a more easygoing manner, while reels tend to speed up and up and up (if there are players present who can't keep the tempo solid, and we have a couple who are notoriously...oblivious...to this process.) I try hard to keep my tempo in check, but it's hard when you're not the strongest or loudest player and someone runs away with the tempo. Nerves also cause things to speed up.
One thing I love about this session is that I've known these guys for so many years that I have a good connection with many of them and we have good banter in between the tunes. It's lighthearted and fun. If there are too many players, there is less opportunity for that. Last night the pub was otherwise nearly empty, so the space in between tunes was quiet enough for some good verbal back-and-forth.
I have progressed to the point where I can hold my own. I do not feel unworthy or apologetic about my presence or my playing. I feel like I am 100% accepted and welcomed and part of the circle. This is a big deal for me, because I have a lot of social anxiety, especially in public groups, and my default is to feel very awkward for a long time. I've gotten past that, and it's such a relief.
When I first started coming to the session, the tunes were a big tangle in my ears. The notes went by so fast, I could not easily follow them. They twist and turn in all sorts of ways; this is what makes each tune unique. The basic structure is that there is an A part of 16 bars, which is repeated, and then a B part of 16 bars, which is also repeated: AABB. This almost never deviates. So there is a predictable pattern. Also, within the A part, there are four bits. Typically the first and third bits are identical to each other, and the last bit of the A part is identical to the last bit of the B part. Not always, but commonly, especially in the more standard tunes.
So it's an auditory puzzle to unravel. There is also another dimension, the framework of chords. Some tunes are based on two chords (we call them "minor" but technically they're in dorian mode). Those are the most predictable. (There are also tunes in major and mixolydian mode.) So you can kind of guess where the notes are going to lead, if you can hear the movement within the chord structure.
This is all pretty advanced brain work, even for people who have been playing music for a lifetime. So for the first few years (and even now) I mostly sat and let the sound run through my ears and my brain, hoping that in time, I'd be able to make more sense of the patterns and the progressions. Slowly, slowly. And it's happening.
One of the reasons I like my kids to be there is that I think this process happens unconsciously, and if you're around "the music" a lot, especially from an early age, you become fluent in those patterns and progressions without even consciously trying. It's like a language. So even if my kids are not all into sitting down and playing tunes all night (though they will sometimes join in quite successfully), when they are grown up, it will be second nature and very easy for them if they choose to do it.
They say playing this kind of music is as good as crossword puzzles or Sudoku for keeping the brain tuned up (ha ha). I hope to be playing this music for the rest of my life, even when I am old. In fact, I am really looking forward to playing it when I am old. Because my friends who have been playing for 20 or 30 years are awesome. When I've played for that long, I might be just as awesome.
I feel the fiddle is an instrument for those who are ridiculously stubborn and insist on a very steep challenge. Particularly for those who didn't learn violin in grade school. I have been thinking about this a lot lately as I practice. I am one of those people who needs a stiff, ongoing challenge to really enjoy my life. (Or two, or six, or seventeen...as you might have noticed.) There is so much to learn on the fiddle, I wager it will fill more than a lifetime. My friend Randy, the one who played with me yesterday afternoon, is the same age as my mom. He talks about his practice and the new tunes he's learning and what's challenging him. It's such a beautiful example of how this particular road really never ends...there is always, always something new to learn and apply. And yet, it is satisfying to play at any level.
Stubbornness indeed. It is no wonder that this tradition is not more widespread. It's hard work. Most of the people I know who play it are obsessed to some degree, or spent several years obsessed and are now riding on the results of that period. I have a number of friends who spent time in Ireland getting masters degrees in Irish traditional music. Why? Because they were compelled and could not rest until they satisfied that compulsion. If they're not obsessive, they're certainly intense. I guess that might be another reason I'm drawn to this scene. I need to be with people who are intense, because that is how I am, and I don't feel so out of step in such company.
Randy asked me last night what drew me to the music. He said for him, he just found it so compelling, he had to learn it. For me, I said, I wanted to play music socially, and this is what people around me were playing, so this is what I went for. He found that intriguing and I think it was a new perspective for him. If the people around me had been playing old-timey music or bluegrass or Cajun or even Middle Eastern or African music, it's possible that I would have done that instead (though I was primed to enjoy fiddle music at an early age by my dad, who listened to it a LOT, even though he is not a musician himself.)
I thought some of you who remember my earliest musings on the session might enjoy this update.
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