otherlands collaboration #9
Location: Fort William, Scotland • Date: December 10, 2019
I went into today with a bit of nerves, but these weren't the usual ones associated with instrumental skills or how to set up my mobile gear on location. These nerves were related to what I perceived as a "heavier" circumstance to my collaboration.
*I’m going to share about our day together and not focus on Aonghas' bio. To learn more him, please check these links: http://www.scottishfiddle.org/angusgrant/
https://projects.handsupfortrad.scot/hall-of-fame/aonghas-grant/
When put out the word that I was coming to Scotland and looking for musicians to meet with, a friend of a friend got in touch, offering to help up in the Highlands. I was informed that Aonghas Grant was someone that I had to meet with up there. On this recommendation, I phoned Aonghas and awkwardly introduced myself. He was happy to get together, and to please get in touch closer to the dates I'm around.
Finally in the Highlands, I started to meet local folks and musicians. When I mentioned that I was going to meet with Aonghas, everyone seemed excited. One musician even asked if I would share my audio for the Scottish National Archives...and this is when I felt some heaviness creep in.
I've gathered that Aonghas is a national treasure. He has been around for 88 years and was career shepherd and deer stalker. He is an excellent storyteller and recalls great details of tunes, their origins, and their songwriters. His first instrument was the Highland bagpipes but after an motorcycle accident that damaged a couple fingers on his left hand, he concentrated on the fiddle. [Note: Bagpipes require fingering from both hands. Aonghas is left-handed and all his fiddles are strung opposite to the more conventional "right-handed" version—meaning that he bows with his left hand and his undamaged right hand was free for melody.] And, Aonghas is a generous and dedicated teacher who basically charges pennies to share his knowledge with new generations.
Aonghas and I were set to meet on Tuesday, agreeing to talk on Monday to check the condition of the ferries. Since I was staying on a remote peninsula called Knoydart, for which the only way out was by boat, I was at the mercy of the weather. On Monday, weather word was very very bad. Tuesday ferries were not running so I left Knoydart a day early, determined not to miss this opportunity.
On my Monday night ferry over, I thought about how our meeting could go...what would we talk about...what would we play...how do I make the most of this? The brainstorming helped, but I needn't have worried, our time together was easy. On Tuesday morning, high winds howled and rain covered the roads, but I made it to Aonghas' doorstep.
Aonghas and his wife Moira welcomed me into their home in Fort William. I was shown to a cozy dining room that seemed to double as his music room. Half of the table was covered in sheet music, the other half had three hard cork-backed placemats for dining — something common I've seen in other places on my Scottish and Irish travels. Four fiddles hung on the wall and we sat around an electric heater where a fireplace may have once have been.
Without hesitation, he began to show me one of the fiddles from the wall — an old German one with a lion's head, and shared that it came to him as one needing repair. Not only does he do repairs on instruments for his students (I'm shown one with a broken top he is working on), he also keeps his eye out for good ones for them. People know this and when they come across an instrument that needs a home, they think of him and his pupils.
Conversation flows and stories begin. It's gold. After about 20min, I ask if he minds me recording our time together and he graciously agrees. So we continue chatting while I set up my gear. For the next 3-4 hours we talk and play.
The fiddles
I try out four different fiddles (all left-handed, of course, which is a challenge for me to play, but it gets easier as the day goes on...once I stop trying to think too hard about it).
German fiddle with lion's head. Dark finish, crack in the back, but repaired.
French style fiddle. Lighter color, wider shoulders.
Left-handed made fiddle from bog pine carbon dated to 8000yrs ago from a more recent (but deceased) maker who says it needs 50 years to mature. It's year 49 now and Aonghas tells me he hopes to make it to 89yrs old (next year) so he can play it then.
His grandfather Donald Grant's fiddle from 1771, next played by his uncle Archie, before Aonghas receives it. This fiddle is the most unique - long pegbox, scroll with less turns, highly arched top and back for more resonating air, f-holes unlike any I've ever seen.
When he plays the family fiddle, he says it needs a bit of playing in to warm up, and he's not wrong. In fact, he knows each fiddle so well and what sort of tunes they excel at. While playing one air, he stops an says "this would be better on that fiddle..." and swaps instruments with satisfying results.
We talk of what distinguishes Scottish and Irish music; of tunes shared and morphing between American and Scottish traditions; of Bluegrass; of regional Gaelic accents; of a time when walking long distances was normal; of shearing sheep; of world travels and threatening guards with their guns at the Northern Ireland border; of religion causing conflict; of Brexit; of how people learn tunes in sessions and don't know the names or composers; and of tune composers along with the origin stories to their tunes.
Interwoven between this conversation are many tunes - hornpipes, airs, reels, jigs, and strathspeys, along with the occasional bluegrass number at his request. Aonghas would either just start a tune or start a story that leads to a tune. The number of tunes he plays that I know?...just about none, unless it has an American version. So, I listen, usually once through, and then try to accompany. And then he'll transition into another tune, and then perhaps another, and I just hold on. Sometimes my gut for the chords is right, sometimes it's not. I, of course, wish that I knew more tunes, or that I was faster to pick them up, but he doesn't seem to mind. I'm here to soak it up. I'm here to learn and to share. Check, check, and check.
THE TUNES
“The Coolin”
Aonghas mentioned that this is an old Irish Air. Although it has flow to the phrasing, it is not played “in time.” When he first played the melody, he played the A part once and the B part once, and I could not follow what was happening. I asked if he could repeat the parts so that I could start to get the melody in my head and hunt around for chords. When we took a break for lunch, he showed me the written music in a book of his. There were two different versions—one with bar lines, and one without for freedom of interpretation.
“Mo Mhàthair”
When Aonghas brought out his grandfather’s 1771 fiddle, he handed it to me. Even though I could only squeak out a few left-handed notes, I could hear that the instrument had something special. I handed it back and asked to hear him. The first thing he played was an old Scottish song air by Neil MacLean called “Mo Màthair.” For a fleeting moment I considered trying to play along, but I decided against it to just enjoy Aonghas and his family instrument.
“The Westcoaster / The Mariner”
If I understood correctly, “The Westcoaster” was the first tune that Aonghas wrote, sometime back in the 1980’s, he thought. It was a tune that just came to him. He named it after the people from the western Highlands, which is where he has spent most of his life. It’s a tune that has caught on and it can be heard in sessions. “The Mariner” was also written by Aonghas and has a bit of a story. One night, a friend of his got drunk and a few days later, received a summons for the Navy. Apparently, he met a recruitment officer and signed on for 10 years of service, although he didn’t remember doing so. When his service finished, he had found his calling and signed back up with the merchant Navy to work on hydroelectric schemes. His nickname became “The Mariner.”
“Soldier’s Joy”
At one point in our afternoon, we talked about how tunes migrated from Scotland to America. One of the examples that Aonghas brought up was “Soldier’s Joy.” It’s one of the early tunes that I learned, and it seemed to be such a standard in America, that I never had thought about it having other origins. It hails from Scotland, and we enjoyed playing our versions of the melody for each other.
At 4pm the doorbell rings. Aonghas and I express that we wish we had more time together and I start to pack up. His (next) student has arrived, a young high schooler named Molly who has been playing for two years. Her fiddle scroll bears the classic red tassel that he bestows upon his students. Before I put up my instrument, Molly takes a photo for us, with Aonghas holding his 1771 fiddle. I drive off into the darkness (Scotland @ 5p) and try to process my day. Happy.
CREDITS
Songs: The Coolin (Traditional Irish), Mo Mhàthair (Neil MacLean), The Westcoaster / The Mariner (Aongus Grant), Soldier's Joy (Traditional) Music
Arranged by: Casey Driessen & Aonghas Grant
Fiddle: Aonghas Grant
Fiddle & Audio/Video: Casey Driessen
SPECIAL THANKS
Drew & Kirsten Harris
Emma Weir
Sarah Winnington-Ingram
