Ól agus craic
The seisiun last night went reasonably well. Two fellows - a bodhrán player and a...well, it's a bit hard to describe Tor - he defies categorising - wandered in. We know them, but this is the first time either of them have graced our quaint little seisiun. The bodhrán player (notice how he hasn't got a name? And he'll stay without one - the fellow's got a reputation, and my rule is to avoid dropping names if I can do).
If Tor's got a reputation, I've not heard of it, so he gets to keep his name. I did notice that he stares pointedly at the ceilling whilst he plays - as if he's expecting the notes to appear there. I think I do that as well...he looks a bit odd (eff off, I'd say it to his face if I've not already done), so...right. I have been told that I pull faces when I play mandolin.
What the fuck am I on about? Seisiun, girlín, seisiun.
Right then, so the bodhrán player wanders in, and I pulled another face (see the bit above about reputation) - 'cos in all honesty, I'd rather not be told that I'm desperate in front of all of my mates, and because I'm a Neurotic Fuckhead (tm), I worried that this thing may well occur. It didn't, so there was a handful of moments squandered. Ah well, perhaps I'll get them back when I die.
Right then. So, the seisiun...
The bodhrán player came over to me and freely admitted that he had an Agenda. He wanted to sell me a tipper that he'd made. The fellow is a drum maker of some renown, so I didn't mind. I'd wanted to buy a tipper from him at NTIF, but I think I spent the money on drink instead. I honestly can't recall. He dropped a sack of tippers at my feet and let me peruse them.
So, he's a great proponent of playing straight-wristed. Sure, I understand the ergonomics behind it, but unravelling fifteen years of playing with a crooked wrist has proven something of a challenge. Round a year ago, I even trussed my hand up in a brace to stop myself crooking my wrist - and I still managed to work my way into a bent position. So, we'll call it a double agenda, 'cos the man has weighted his tippers such that they go all unwieldy when played with a crooked wrist. 'I bought a gramme scale' he announced proudly. Leads one to wonder what else he might using his gramme scale to weigh...
Yeh, ha-ha, very funny.
After having arguments (which consisted of several wild rim shots and two face smackings) with four out of five of the tippers I'd been playing with, I chose a curvy brown one - diamondwood, he said it was called. It seems a hard enough wood to withstand an enthusiastic player's (mise mi fein) abuse. To look at it, however, I'm convinced that darthcynthia would snatch it from me and use it to bind up her hair.
He didn't blow sunshine at me, and I'm glad for that, but rather he showed me things and played with me. In my world, the best arrangement isn't taking it in turns with the other player, but rather it's two players (and perhaps never more than two) who can read each others' minds and anticipate each others' moves. I've had this with a fellow who's since left the seisiun, and it was brilliant. We made an amazing noise - and neither of us felt as though we were killing somebody's auntie when we played in with each other.
I was left with the same sense that I'd got of him when we first crashed into over a decade ago. Sure, he might have an ego that could eclipse the sun, but he's patient and more than willing to impart a bit of his knowledge.
If Tor's got a reputation, I've not heard of it, so he gets to keep his name. I did notice that he stares pointedly at the ceilling whilst he plays - as if he's expecting the notes to appear there. I think I do that as well...he looks a bit odd (eff off, I'd say it to his face if I've not already done), so...right. I have been told that I pull faces when I play mandolin.
What the fuck am I on about? Seisiun, girlín, seisiun.
Right then, so the bodhrán player wanders in, and I pulled another face (see the bit above about reputation) - 'cos in all honesty, I'd rather not be told that I'm desperate in front of all of my mates, and because I'm a Neurotic Fuckhead (tm), I worried that this thing may well occur. It didn't, so there was a handful of moments squandered. Ah well, perhaps I'll get them back when I die.
Right then. So, the seisiun...
The bodhrán player came over to me and freely admitted that he had an Agenda. He wanted to sell me a tipper that he'd made. The fellow is a drum maker of some renown, so I didn't mind. I'd wanted to buy a tipper from him at NTIF, but I think I spent the money on drink instead. I honestly can't recall. He dropped a sack of tippers at my feet and let me peruse them.
So, he's a great proponent of playing straight-wristed. Sure, I understand the ergonomics behind it, but unravelling fifteen years of playing with a crooked wrist has proven something of a challenge. Round a year ago, I even trussed my hand up in a brace to stop myself crooking my wrist - and I still managed to work my way into a bent position. So, we'll call it a double agenda, 'cos the man has weighted his tippers such that they go all unwieldy when played with a crooked wrist. 'I bought a gramme scale' he announced proudly. Leads one to wonder what else he might using his gramme scale to weigh...
Yeh, ha-ha, very funny.
After having arguments (which consisted of several wild rim shots and two face smackings) with four out of five of the tippers I'd been playing with, I chose a curvy brown one - diamondwood, he said it was called. It seems a hard enough wood to withstand an enthusiastic player's (mise mi fein) abuse. To look at it, however, I'm convinced that darthcynthia would snatch it from me and use it to bind up her hair.
He didn't blow sunshine at me, and I'm glad for that, but rather he showed me things and played with me. In my world, the best arrangement isn't taking it in turns with the other player, but rather it's two players (and perhaps never more than two) who can read each others' minds and anticipate each others' moves. I've had this with a fellow who's since left the seisiun, and it was brilliant. We made an amazing noise - and neither of us felt as though we were killing somebody's auntie when we played in with each other.
I was left with the same sense that I'd got of him when we first crashed into over a decade ago. Sure, he might have an ego that could eclipse the sun, but he's patient and more than willing to impart a bit of his knowledge.