Lay Me Down (2/3)
anonymous
March 2 2010, 11:21:33 UTC
"You know," drawled Nova Scotia, "you'd've been better off claiming to be from Ontario. He doesn't care about come-from-aways."
"And he wouldn't notice you mangling his accent." Cape Breton snorted. "Give 'er here."
He didn't trust those smiles. "So you can do what, Luke? Smash it?"
"No, you arse, I wouldn't do that to an instrument. You're angling your bow wrong on your triplets."
Canada flushed, handed him the fiddle & bow.
Cape Breton placed the fiddle under his chin, drew the bow over the strings in a flurry of notes; then paused, and demonstrated a slow three-note movement. "Like that."
Canada took his instrument back, imitated him.
"Better. You've got potential, b'y, I'll give you that." He looked at Nova Scotia, nodded.
"So, where're you staying?"
Canada raised an eyebrow. "Why?"
"Me 'n James are abducting you tomorrow," Cape Breton said, "and're going to attempt to teach you to be a proper Cape Bretoner. I hope you don't have any appointments?"
One day turned into seven, and Matthew learned more about Cape Breton fiddling in that week than he had in two years. Luke handled most of the musical training, James going out for food runs. Bowing, fingering, performance, basic step dance, accent, all of it; they invented a fake family history for him - descended from one of Luke's old aliases who had lived in Creignish around 1900 - and called him a child of ex-pats. At the end of the week they presented him with a kilt in Maple Leaf tartan and the number for a music agent, declaring him "good enough for them."
In return he sent them tickets to every tour date, and when he signed a record deal tickets to the launch party and cassettes. They made it to every Nova Scotia date, gave him a place to crash & breakfast, and dragged him out to meet other fiddlers. (It stopped being intimidating after the first five.) His favourite céilidh was the one where Luke and James plopped down beside him while he was playing and started harmony and drumbeat, and the three of them traded off parts for another half hour. Then they eased over to the alcohol, Luke ribbing James about how he was "Not bad for a bagpiper."
He somehow managed to keep his second life a secret from most of the provinces, and all of the other countries. He was making music to have fun, and he was sort of worried what they'd think of shy little Canada getting up on stage and dancing around in jeans. Or worse, that his invisibility would kick in while on-stage. So he scheduled his performances away from known country-hang outs, kept his fiddle in the closet, and mixed his sheet music with the atlases. And if he grinned when his music was featured on TV, or was complimented on some talk show, he just passed it off as national pride.
He mostly retired after about five years, as there was only so far make-up could take you in terms of aging; but he kept performing in bars under different names, releasing the occasional record, and roaming around Cape Breton with James and Luke.
Then 2010. Knowing Nova Scotia was a fan of fiddlers, and trying as hard as she could to be inclusive, British Columbia called him up to ask for recommendations for Cape Breton-style fiddlers for the Olympics. Nova Scotia named Ashley MacInnis, sent her a CD and a tape of the Conan O'Brien appearance. "Boy's got balls," he said.
"Just what I need," she replied.
She'd been just as surprised as Matthew when she called him up and found out that the fiddler was actually her country, but extended the invitation all the same. "Nova Scotia says you're good, and if you're anything like your CDs he's right."
"I'll think about it," he said.
He argued back and forth with Nova Scotia about whether he should do it or not; but the closing shot was fired by Manitoba, who had seen Canada ghost-fiddle along to music and asked the right questions. "Everyone's talking about how these Games are your turn to shine, right? So go out there and shine."
He phoned back British Columbia before he lost his nerve.
"And he wouldn't notice you mangling his accent." Cape Breton snorted. "Give 'er here."
He didn't trust those smiles. "So you can do what, Luke? Smash it?"
"No, you arse, I wouldn't do that to an instrument. You're angling your bow wrong on your triplets."
Canada flushed, handed him the fiddle & bow.
Cape Breton placed the fiddle under his chin, drew the bow over the strings in a flurry of notes; then paused, and demonstrated a slow three-note movement. "Like that."
Canada took his instrument back, imitated him.
"Better. You've got potential, b'y, I'll give you that." He looked at Nova Scotia, nodded.
"So, where're you staying?"
Canada raised an eyebrow. "Why?"
"Me 'n James are abducting you tomorrow," Cape Breton said, "and're going to attempt to teach you to be a proper Cape Bretoner. I hope you don't have any appointments?"
One day turned into seven, and Matthew learned more about Cape Breton fiddling in that week than he had in two years. Luke handled most of the musical training, James going out for food runs. Bowing, fingering, performance, basic step dance, accent, all of it; they invented a fake family history for him - descended from one of Luke's old aliases who had lived in Creignish around 1900 - and called him a child of ex-pats. At the end of the week they presented him with a kilt in Maple Leaf tartan and the number for a music agent, declaring him "good enough for them."
In return he sent them tickets to every tour date, and when he signed a record deal tickets to the launch party and cassettes. They made it to every Nova Scotia date, gave him a place to crash & breakfast, and dragged him out to meet other fiddlers. (It stopped being intimidating after the first five.) His favourite céilidh was the one where Luke and James plopped down beside him while he was playing and started harmony and drumbeat, and the three of them traded off parts for another half hour. Then they eased over to the alcohol, Luke ribbing James about how he was "Not bad for a bagpiper."
He somehow managed to keep his second life a secret from most of the provinces, and all of the other countries. He was making music to have fun, and he was sort of worried what they'd think of shy little Canada getting up on stage and dancing around in jeans. Or worse, that his invisibility would kick in while on-stage. So he scheduled his performances away from known country-hang outs, kept his fiddle in the closet, and mixed his sheet music with the atlases. And if he grinned when his music was featured on TV, or was complimented on some talk show, he just passed it off as national pride.
He mostly retired after about five years, as there was only so far make-up could take you in terms of aging; but he kept performing in bars under different names, releasing the occasional record, and roaming around Cape Breton with James and Luke.
Then 2010. Knowing Nova Scotia was a fan of fiddlers, and trying as hard as she could to be inclusive, British Columbia called him up to ask for recommendations for Cape Breton-style fiddlers for the Olympics. Nova Scotia named Ashley MacInnis, sent her a CD and a tape of the Conan O'Brien appearance. "Boy's got balls," he said.
"Just what I need," she replied.
She'd been just as surprised as Matthew when she called him up and found out that the fiddler was actually her country, but extended the invitation all the same. "Nova Scotia says you're good, and if you're anything like your CDs he's right."
"I'll think about it," he said.
He argued back and forth with Nova Scotia about whether he should do it or not; but the closing shot was fired by Manitoba, who had seen Canada ghost-fiddle along to music and asked the right questions. "Everyone's talking about how these Games are your turn to shine, right? So go out there and shine."
He phoned back British Columbia before he lost his nerve.
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