It really is rather cultish.
I just got back from Burns Night and, as usual, I have pesky Opinions About Stuff: the people, the food, the music. Here are some of my impressions.
Hanfang Zhang: The fiddler. She isn't Scottish, but she's a really good fiddler, so I'll let that slide. My views on her are a little mixed. She wore a very stylish dark suit that was cut in such a way that it was fairly obvious that she wasn't wearing any underwear. While not a bad thing per se--well, given her fiddling, which was professional almost to a fault, and how demure she was when I talked to her afterwards, this produced a slightly alarming disconnect. But what do I know about wearing women's suits?
Jonathan Huston: The bassist. I make no secret of not liking this man. He's creepy, full of himself, and, much like Zhang, he hasn't a drop of Scottish blood in his body. Unlike Zhang, however, he's one of the worst pliers of his instruments I've ever seen. It's a bass guitar, not a fucking banjo. Idiot. Towards the end, I was beginning to wonder what business he had even attending a Burns Night celebration at all.
Scott Gothe: This man has one of the best singing voices I have ever heard and is one of very few people on the planet who can carry 'Lord Randal' without musical accompaniment. I want him to sing at all major occasions. Also, he looks the part: short, stout, grey hair, moustache, glasses, small beard, crew-neck jumper.
Deborah Villiers Vaughan: ...She made 'John Barleycorn' funny. That takes some talent. Also, I don't know what arrangement of 'Ye Banks and Braes' she uses, but I like it much better than the usual arrangement.
James Hicks: A genius. One of the best pipers (and organists, incidentally) of this generation. As to why nobody's ever heard of him, he simply needs to get out more.
Haggis: Yes, I broke down and ate diced sheep guts. I'm not proud. But really, it wasn't that bad. It tasted oniony and somewhat beany. If I hadn't known better, I would have guessed that it was some sort of Mexican lentil dish.
Now I'm back at my godfather and his father's house. Grandfather Jim did not come with us. My mother tried to convince him to, but he just said that he'd come next year.
This is not the first time when I've thought that 'next year' may not come for Jim.
Also, very old people seem to derive real comfort from my presence. I'm not sure why this is. Maybe it has something to do with the fact that I speak fairly slowly and much more clearly than most people my age--especially given the fact that I'm from New England (general rule of thumb for my non-American readers: Southerners drawl. Northerners jabber. I'm a Northerner who neither drawls nor jabbers, and thus a rarity). Or it could just be je ne sais quois. Who knows?
Hanfang Zhang: The fiddler. She isn't Scottish, but she's a really good fiddler, so I'll let that slide. My views on her are a little mixed. She wore a very stylish dark suit that was cut in such a way that it was fairly obvious that she wasn't wearing any underwear. While not a bad thing per se--well, given her fiddling, which was professional almost to a fault, and how demure she was when I talked to her afterwards, this produced a slightly alarming disconnect. But what do I know about wearing women's suits?
Jonathan Huston: The bassist. I make no secret of not liking this man. He's creepy, full of himself, and, much like Zhang, he hasn't a drop of Scottish blood in his body. Unlike Zhang, however, he's one of the worst pliers of his instruments I've ever seen. It's a bass guitar, not a fucking banjo. Idiot. Towards the end, I was beginning to wonder what business he had even attending a Burns Night celebration at all.
Scott Gothe: This man has one of the best singing voices I have ever heard and is one of very few people on the planet who can carry 'Lord Randal' without musical accompaniment. I want him to sing at all major occasions. Also, he looks the part: short, stout, grey hair, moustache, glasses, small beard, crew-neck jumper.
Deborah Villiers Vaughan: ...She made 'John Barleycorn' funny. That takes some talent. Also, I don't know what arrangement of 'Ye Banks and Braes' she uses, but I like it much better than the usual arrangement.
James Hicks: A genius. One of the best pipers (and organists, incidentally) of this generation. As to why nobody's ever heard of him, he simply needs to get out more.
Haggis: Yes, I broke down and ate diced sheep guts. I'm not proud. But really, it wasn't that bad. It tasted oniony and somewhat beany. If I hadn't known better, I would have guessed that it was some sort of Mexican lentil dish.
Now I'm back at my godfather and his father's house. Grandfather Jim did not come with us. My mother tried to convince him to, but he just said that he'd come next year.
This is not the first time when I've thought that 'next year' may not come for Jim.
Also, very old people seem to derive real comfort from my presence. I'm not sure why this is. Maybe it has something to do with the fact that I speak fairly slowly and much more clearly than most people my age--especially given the fact that I'm from New England (general rule of thumb for my non-American readers: Southerners drawl. Northerners jabber. I'm a Northerner who neither drawls nor jabbers, and thus a rarity). Or it could just be je ne sais quois. Who knows?