'Cause your love don't mean a thing unless you sing, sing, sing, sing...
Fucking great couple of days last week. Finally I feel like I'm starting on the right track after, I don't know, maybe years of distracting myself from what I really want to do. All around Edinburgh are pubs that have traditional music sessions almost every night of the week. That's where a bunch of people show up and play whatever instruments they brought and play tunes together. Talent ranges from totally professional to enthusiasts starting out. It can be really intimidating to walk into one of these smoky, dim pubs and plunk your ass down in the circle and offer what you've got, but I did.
Jerbs and I went to a Thursday night session at a pub near our flat called the Antiquity (known as the Tiq) and there were some great people playing: two sets of pipes, guitars, a whole section of fiddles, recorders and an accordian. One of the women playing the flute is in the Gaelic choir that I'm in, and she invited me to sing a song for them. I was so fucking nervous. I sang Lord Randall, which is the Scottish ballad I sang with Jerbs for his performance last year. Usually at these things people are there to have a few drinks, talk with friends and listen to the music, but when I started singing the bar got really, really quiet. I finished and the pub went nuts. I was fucking high as a kite on the applause. I got to talking to a few people during the rest of the night, and before I left I sang another song a capella called Geordie. That went over well, too. For some reason a lot of people thought I was either Scottish or Irish because of the dialect in the song, and they freaked out when I said I was a home-grown Wisconsin girl.
This past Sunday I went to another pub by myself after a choir rehearsal, known as Sandy Bell's. They have folk sessions every night of the week and weekend evenings. I knew another guy in the sessions from one of my jobs, so I belted out a few more tunes. Everyone there was super cool and chill, and I earned two new fans, one of them a fifty year-old pickpocket drunk named Kevin. We became super tight throughout my five hours there that day and I was offered many drinks and invited to dinner by two (uck, middle-aged) guys. It is so great to just sit around a beautiful old pub, drinking beer, singing, playing, talking shit with Scottish musicians. I could really get used to this life. In fact, that's the life I want. Just here, singing. Getting paid for it would be really great as well. I know it's just singing in bars and not getting paid, but I fucking feel like maybe something will happen out of this. I will meet someone who wants to start a group, or someone who wants to do some recording or something. There are so many talented musicians around this town and I just want to do this all the time. This is the reason I came here.
I've got a choir competition to go to this weekend in Perth, which is about an hour away. The competition is part of this big festival that they hold every year in Scotland called the Mod. I have a solo in one of the women's songs and I'm so excited about it. After we perform that night they have Ceildhs all around town. It's going to be me and a bunch of old folks and whisky, singing Gaelic songs and dancing some steps. I can't fucking wait.
Sometimes I think this country is too good to be true. Now, if only I could find me a bonny lad.
Love, Kristin
Jerbs and I went to a Thursday night session at a pub near our flat called the Antiquity (known as the Tiq) and there were some great people playing: two sets of pipes, guitars, a whole section of fiddles, recorders and an accordian. One of the women playing the flute is in the Gaelic choir that I'm in, and she invited me to sing a song for them. I was so fucking nervous. I sang Lord Randall, which is the Scottish ballad I sang with Jerbs for his performance last year. Usually at these things people are there to have a few drinks, talk with friends and listen to the music, but when I started singing the bar got really, really quiet. I finished and the pub went nuts. I was fucking high as a kite on the applause. I got to talking to a few people during the rest of the night, and before I left I sang another song a capella called Geordie. That went over well, too. For some reason a lot of people thought I was either Scottish or Irish because of the dialect in the song, and they freaked out when I said I was a home-grown Wisconsin girl.
This past Sunday I went to another pub by myself after a choir rehearsal, known as Sandy Bell's. They have folk sessions every night of the week and weekend evenings. I knew another guy in the sessions from one of my jobs, so I belted out a few more tunes. Everyone there was super cool and chill, and I earned two new fans, one of them a fifty year-old pickpocket drunk named Kevin. We became super tight throughout my five hours there that day and I was offered many drinks and invited to dinner by two (uck, middle-aged) guys. It is so great to just sit around a beautiful old pub, drinking beer, singing, playing, talking shit with Scottish musicians. I could really get used to this life. In fact, that's the life I want. Just here, singing. Getting paid for it would be really great as well. I know it's just singing in bars and not getting paid, but I fucking feel like maybe something will happen out of this. I will meet someone who wants to start a group, or someone who wants to do some recording or something. There are so many talented musicians around this town and I just want to do this all the time. This is the reason I came here.
I've got a choir competition to go to this weekend in Perth, which is about an hour away. The competition is part of this big festival that they hold every year in Scotland called the Mod. I have a solo in one of the women's songs and I'm so excited about it. After we perform that night they have Ceildhs all around town. It's going to be me and a bunch of old folks and whisky, singing Gaelic songs and dancing some steps. I can't fucking wait.
Sometimes I think this country is too good to be true. Now, if only I could find me a bonny lad.
Love, Kristin