Celtoria

2009 St. Louis Tionol

2009-05-01T18:39:00.000-07:00

There must be a sentiment of amateur journalists that I would paraphrase as “If only I knew that I would be writing this article, then I would have taken better notes!” If not, then such is the feeling with which I enthusiastically yet humbly present the following overview of the 2009 Mississippi River Celtic Music Festival, also known as the St. Louis Tionól. Of particular interest to me this year was Peter Browne’s attendance. As a teenager, his uilleann piping on “The Gathering” was one of the first recordings that I heard of Irish music. So, the chance not only to meet Browne, but also to learn from him at the intermediate piping workshop as well as to attend both a Friday presentation about the history of broadcasting in Ireland and a Saturday presentation on the life of Willie Clancy was, indeed, a rare opportunity.

The Tionól
An annual highlight for Celtic music in the Midwest took place in St. Louis, Missouri on April 3rd - 5th, 2009. Now in its 12th year, the St. Louis Tionól has consistently drawn some of the best talent in the Irish music world for workshops, concerts and sessions. In addition to many talented teachers and musicians from both sides of the Atlantic (including Patrick Ourceau, John Skelton, Andrew O’Brien, Roger Landes and Ged Foley to name just a few), a 3-day reed-making workshop was taught by reed and pipe-maker, Jim Wenham on Thursday, Friday and Saturday. Over the weekend, I had the opportunity to visit with several pipers who had crafted at least one chanter reed under Wenham’s guidance.

Friday Lecture
On Friday afternoon at Saint Louis University, Peter Browne gave a presentation on the history of broadcasting in Ireland. Browne, host of the RTÉ program The Rolling Wave ¬– as well as a student of the three gods of Irish piping, Seamus Ennis, Willie Clancy and Leo Rowsome – seems uniquely qualified to comment on technological and musical trends in traditional Irish music. Browne summarized the last 80+ years of broadcasting in Ireland and presented several examples from the early days of mobile recording in Ireland. Thank you to Mr. Browne for clarifying this cutting-edge technology (at least by 1940s standards!) later by email:

The Mobile Recording Unit (MRU) came to Raidió Éireann in 1947. It was the first time recordings were made by RÉ outside of the studio setting. The medium was acetate discs (like 78s but more fragile).

When magnetic tape eventually came to Ireland (from Germany) after the war, the fragile acetate discs were transferred onto the more durable medium. To do so, a collection of needles was needed to find the right match for the stylus that was originally used to cut the acetate. In other words, if the needle used in the transfer was too small, then the sound quality was diminished. On the other hand, if the needle used in the transfer was bigger than the one used to cut the acetate, it might damage the disc.

On an interesting side note, Browne commented that when traditional musicians were first brought from the countryside into the studio, mock farm scenes were constructed to help them feel more at ease with this alien environment!

Friday Concert
An evening concert was held at the Schlafly Taproom with performances by tionól teachers to whet the musical appetites of festival participants and Irish music fans from across the Midwest. A personal highlight for me was Skip Healy’s performance on flute. Boyish, charismatic and cowboy boot-wearing, Healy’s flute playing was vibrant and melodic with a driving rhythm. By an interesting coincidence, Healy had learned several tunes from Michael Cooney’s uncle while living in County Tipperary, Ireland. A native of Rhode Island, Healy explained that, at the time that he was living in Ireland, Michael was living in St. Louis so their paths did not cross until later. Of Course, Michael Cooney is one of the co-founders of the St. Louis Tionól along with Mike Mullins, patriarch of St. Louis Irish piping.

Saturday Class
In a classroom at Nerinx High School in Webster Groves, uilleann pipers from across the country gathered to glean musical wisdom from a consummate cadre of piping instructors including Michael Cooney, Peter Browne and Gay McKeon. In the intermediate workshop with Peter Browne, I made reference to a point from his Friday lecture. “Were you there?” he inquired. I dryly responded, “yes, I’ve been following you around for a few days!”

Browne was both scholarly and approachable, factual yet humorous and he spoke much as he played the pipes by condensing tightly packaged phrases with such precision and rapidity that it was difficult to fully digest everything that was heard. Much like a melody that is performed so quickly that the subtlety cannot be discerned upon first impresssion, Browne engaged and sometimes surprised the students with his musical insights and unexpected turns-of-phrases. It was for him, perhaps, the most efficient means of communicating a tremendous amount of musical and factual information into the finite format of the workshop. In just the morning session he taught a lovely double jig from Goodman’s collection Tunes of the Munster Pipers entitled “The Humors of Cloyne” and the slow air Casadh an tSúgáin or “The Twisting of the Hayrope.” According to Browne, he learned this slow air from a recording of Willie Clancy, who in turn had learned it from Leo Rowsome. Browne explained that the air was meant to commemorate a wily mother outsmarting her daughter’s suitor by having him hold one end of the straw cordage as she twisted a longer and longer piece of rope. When the rope was sufficiently long and the suitor was safely outside the house, she simply closed the door on him!

An important aspect of Browne’s approach to slow airs is that a basic knowledge of the lyrics (if there are any) can give the piper what he refers to as “a sense of the inner architecture” of the music. The idea is not that a slow air should be phrased exactly as a vocalist would sing the lyrics, but that knowing just a line or two of a song can provide the piper an “underlying structure” to approach slow air playing.
A presentation during the noon lunch break focused on the life of Willie Clancy. According to Browne, Clancy was a carpenter by trade and not only a piper, but also a singer, dancer and flute player. Willie’s father Gilbert was a close friend of Garret Barry; through this connection, the young Willie inherited much of Barry’s musical legacy in spite of the fact that Barry had passed away some twenty years before his birth. Several archival interviews of Clancy further colored the lines of what Browne had described that morning as a process of ‘sympathetic magic’: the more you know about a piper like Clancy, how he lived and other aspects of his life, the more your music will become imbued with his character.

During the afternoon session, we learned the second part of the slow air and started a reel with the interesting title “The Cat that Ate the Candle.”

Saturday Concert and Sessions
The Saturday concert was hosted this year for the first time at the Union Avenue Opera House; the new venue proved to be an intimate setting for a superb evening of acoustic performances by the tionól teachers. Step-dancers from St. Louis Irish Arts provided a colorful, dynamic dimension to the many excellent musical performances. After the concert, a return to the Schlafly Taproom spawned many joy-filled sessions that lasted into the wee hours of the morning.

Sunday At McGurk’s
John D. McGurk’s Irish Pub in Soulard provides the perfect conclusion to a weekend-long musical journey. Exuding a palpable Celtic character, McGurk’s is a structural homage to the artistic and literary contributions of the Irish. Within these walls, the cozy spaces unfold and provide a rich environment from which music seems to spring forth spontaneously like morel mushrooms in the various nooks and crannies of the pub. As I wandered from room to room seeing faces both old and new, I was reminded of the comfortable, familial feeling that Irish music invokes: a deep sense of connection. And even though I am not Irish by heritage, it is an honor to be a part of this extended family that comes from playing Irish traditional music.

© 2009 by J. Beau Buffington

WinterStorm 2009

2009-02-02T06:11:00.000-08:00

If every elevated vista is preceded by a series of harrowing steps and missteps, nimble traversing of literal and metaphorical gorges, and periodic oblivion of the path, then WinterStorm IX was a textbook example of the way to the top of the mountain. Food poisoning on the first day of our intended trip had left me utterly incapacitated in spite of the fact that I had volunteered both my wife and myself for a 3-day stint. Thankfully, Friday saw a clearing of my internal atmosphere only to be replaced by a downturn of meteorological conditions: A dusting of snow had created a blizzard-like veil between Springfield and Kansas City.

At many points during the drive, only one driving lane was cleared while the other lane was a snow-packed, ungrated and wholly untested trail. Four hours later, after numerous traffic jams, slow-downs, an overturned tractor-trailor and one small vehicle on the wrong side of the freeway missing a large part of its trunk and bumper (which could be found scattered downstream from the impact site) we made it. We quickly assimilated into the staff of neon orange-shirted volunteers, which were once again managed by the incessantly energetic, Duracell bunny-like Beth Wilson.

 My favorite task on Friday was running the tuning lights for the Gold Medal piobaireachd and light music events. It afforded me not only one of the best seats in the house, but also it allowed me to share in the sheer gravity of the moment. A competitor would appear on the stage and begin to blow the drones, and I was to start the timer as soon as I heard the chanter. The lights, meant to help expedite the tuning process of the competitor, would cycle thru a sequence of green to yellow to red like a mini, horizontal traffic light.

My palms soon started sweating profusely at the idea that I might start or stop the timer before the competitor had truly commenced. I knew only one or two of the Gold Medal tunes, so if I started or stopped the lights inappropriately, this distraction for competitor or the audience might not create a fair contest! Last minute instructions on the use of the tuning light remote control by the MHAF vice-president – and a further reeducation by the volunteer that I was replacing (“Give the competitors an extra minute before you start the timer,” he commented “the judges are feeling generous!”) – only added to my sense of nervousness.

My initial fears were quickly put to rest by the shear quality of the performances. It is little wonder that the highland bagpipe became the instrument of choice for medieval highland chieftains: the sound of a well-tuned instrument creates a spell-binding force field around the player. A master piper creates such an aura of utter control that it almost appears as if the piper is practicing a form of acoustic levitation – a sonic galvanization forged before your very eyes! Such was the magical vista to which the Gold Medal competition transported the audience. To hear the winning performances, visit Ken "The Captain" Eller's excellent blog The Captain's Corner and scroll to Winter Storm 2009.

Saturday found me transporting Colin MacLellan, Fred Morrison and an overhead projector to their respective classrooms. MacLellan’s presentation on the Silver Medal tunes was well-attended by several pipers from Simon Fraser University in Vancouver, British Columbia as well as professional pipers from across North America. MacLellan spoke at-length of melodic and phrasing variations for each tune and led the group in focused practice-chanter work. He then concluded with a piping performance of his father’s beautiful composition – The Phantom Piper of Corrieyairack at the Community Christian Church. Of course, Colin’s father was the great piper, Pipe Major and instructor at the Army School of Piping, Captain John A. MacLellan, M.B.E. 

If there was ever a piping and drumming Hogwarts academy, WinterStorm would be a natural candidate. On this weekend, the center of the world of Scottish piping and drumming is truly transported from Glasgow, Scotland to Kansas City, Missouri. If that’s not a first class sleight-of-hand, then I don’t know what is! I still can’t help but marvel at how the WinterStorm event has raised the standard of piping and drumming in the Midwest and will continue to do so for generations to come. WinterStorm has become the premiere piping and drumming event in North America. No doubt, this is due in large part to the extraordinary work of the Board of the Midwest Highland Arts Fund in planning and executing the event.  

The Warp and the Weft

2009-01-22T07:49:00.000-08:00

I first met Gerry McNeil at Mr. McCobber’s pub across from the Queen Street Station in Glasgow in the Fall of 1996. Gerry was a personable fellow with a vivid imagination and a sense of humor that evoked a feeling of nostalgia from a begone era: “The best TV that I ever saw was on BBC Radio” he would dryly comment. Gerry taught me how to make a proper cup of Scottish tea with Glaswiegian tap water piped straight out of the Highlands. The more time I spent with him, the more I realized that McNeil had an uncanny sense of the future that I could only describe as mildly prophetic. When I returned to America and mentioned McNeil and his sixth sense to a friend from Cape Breton, Nova Scotia, his reaction was without surprise: “McNeils are known for their second sight.”

It was Gerry who first taught me how to listen to DJs mix live drum-and-bass music on 2 and 3 decks. Drum-and-bass music – or jungle – was a form of techno music that originated out of the underground rave scene of the late 1980’s in London. We would stay up late and listen to DJs weave intricate rhythms at 160 beats per minute – sonic, silver sound waves.“The DJ will give you just a taste of the next album that follows. Do you hear it?” Sometimes I heard it; sometimes I didn’t. Gerry taught me how to listen for the big musical picture in the minute changes.

I returned home in March 1997 then moved to South Korea to teach the next August. I visited Gerry in Glasgow in the summer of 1999, but when I returned to America in May of 2000, I somehow lost contact. I didn’t hear anything from Gerry for over 8 years. I had already begun to relinquish that phase of my life when I received this email:

So, do you remember those nights we would break down the jungle? if you do, there can only be one guy who can. And that guy is you...?

I was gobsmacked, for want of a better regional idiom. A quick, email exchange of phone numbers, several weeks of Skype phone calls and video conferences and an exchange of transcontinental packages (me: maglights from america, gerry: shortbread, tea and whiskey from Scotland). In addition, Gerry sent me a link to his web blog on Blogger. I had no idea that he was even a writer! It seemed a perfect way to collaborate using Blogger and Skype to communicate and reciprocate. Gerry has even offered to write a column for my newsletter on how to make a proper cup of Scottish tea (it's a good idea to start with good tea and a better idea to start with good, Glaswegian water!). Possibly, in the future he will even tell write down for all posterity how to break down the jungle.

WinterStorm 2008

2008-01-23T09:42:00.000-08:00

The annual WinterStorm competitions, workshops and concert took place on January 11-13, 2008 at the Kansas City Plaza Marriott, Holiday Inn and the Community Christian Church. This was the seventh year of the event, which has been competently managed and expanded each year into one of the premiere Scottish piping and drumming events in the country - if not the World. Competitors from all over the United States and Canada and even Ireland and Scotland took part in the competitions on Friday. Saturday hosted some of the world's greatest pipers and drummers in workshops that taught music, technique and performance aspects of the highly technical Scottish idiom to students from all over the U.S. and Canada. As one piper from Ohio commented in Fred Morrison's Reelpipe class, "Since Fred was going to be this close, I knew it was something that I couldn't miss."

It was my third visit to WinterStorm, but my first year as a volunteer. I even managed to persuade my wife to join me in volunteering and lauded her skills beforehand to Beth Wilson, the volunteer coordinator. My wife proved to be such an excellent asset in the merchandising area and Beth such a competent delegator-of-authority with the other volunteers that I felt like the proverbial third wheel for much of the morning on Saturday. Consequently, I playfully teased Shannon as she sold her umpteenth CD by parroting her friendly, parting comment "Enjoy your new CD."
"Just a little value-added service," she promptly retorted.

Joining WinterStorm as piping instructors again this year were the highland piping dream team of Gold Medallists including Angus MacColl, Fred Morrison, Stuart Liddell, Colin MacLellan, Mike Cusack, John Cairns, Chris Armstrong and Jack Lee. The workshops focused mainly on equipping students with competition-standard tunes and traditional technique except for Fred Morrison's reel pipe class, which focused on the bellows-driven border pipes and Scottish smallpipes. Drumming workshops were equally staffed with a superlative collection of drumming gurus including J. Reid Maxwell, Duncan Gibson and Norman "Haggis" MacLeod.

Of all my jobs as a volunteer - official "closer of the door to the piobaireachd and light music events," unofficial snare drum transporter / dead weight gooney, official door shutter to the tuning rooms during the concert, and unofficial repacker / breaker down of the poster board display (again, so sorry about destroying the wrong board, Beth) - my favorite task all weekend was as Fred Morrison's official "right-hand man" and photocopy lackey. Two of the other students immediately offered to loan me their extra sets of bagpipes so I could play along. Fred did a wonderful job of including many different skill levels of players in the musical conversation regarding variations of "Hector the Hero" - a tune that I learned from a recording of Fred, himself, playing on the "Broken Chanter" - while keeping the overall tone of the workshop encouraging and challenging to all levels.

The concert Saturday evening was, once again, a highlight for the entire weekend. The opening soundtrack and march of the drummers set the perfect mood for the concert as the martial rhythm of drums have done for generations.(Watch the drum major's baton as he twirls the hefty device around his back and up in the air again and again!) However, this night the focus was in the creation of a musicial fellowship. Several outstanding performances include Fred Morrison on the reel pipes and low whistle, Stuart Liddell playing Gordon Duncan's "Thunderstruck" on the highland pipe, Chris Armstrong / Barry Wilson's bewitching rhythmic dual on the pipes and drums and the 78th Fraser's brilliant arrangement of pipes and drums on "Trip to Skye".

In the modern days of the "Robopipe" with synthetic drone reeds, synthetic bags and even synthetic bagpipes instead of the traditional cane, hide and wood materials, it is fascinating to watch a master piper explore the incredibly subtle nuances of tuning a modern bagpipe before a performance. For example, the affects that moisture once had on the cane, hide and wood are no longer as dramatic an issue, so spectators get the impression that an extended tuning phase of the instrument is more for the comfort of the performer than the variability of the instrument. It's a small wonder that anyone even attempted the traditional highland bagpipe in the days that you would get disqualified from the contest for a single stopped tenor drone! (Well, you'd still get disqualified, but synthetic drone reeds take much of the guesswork out of the equation.)

Performers, competitors, judges and audience alike were equally wowed by another successful WinterStorm weekend. As Ken Eller, the always dignified and masterful master-of-ceremonies commented, "I thought of a new tune name 'Awestruck on Thunderstruck'!" The same awe could be felt during the entire concert. As one gruntled volunteer commented, "I have neven been happier to be an official photocopy lackey and water trap emptier for these musical heavyweights at this must-see event of the year." Event organizers have set next year's date of January 16 – 18, 2009. More information can be found at winterstorm.net.

Farewell to Alex Sutherland

2007-12-04T09:05:00.000-08:00

The Missouri Scottish community lost a wonderful vocalist, entertainer and person yesterday when Alex Sutherland passed away suddenly from a heart attack. I had the privilege and opportunity of performing with Alex and Carrie Sutherland for the past few years at various events sponsored by the St. Andrew's Society in Springfield and at the Buffalo Highland games. While my time with Alex was short, he always impressed me with his enthusiasm, graciousness and professionalism. Alex was generous about sharing the spotlight both onstage and off the stage: his warmth was truly radiant and he had a natural gift for making people feel comfortable and at ease. And even though I am not Scottish, Alex seemed like a long, lost uncle in his encouragement of my piping and music. Alex was even responsible to a large degree in helping me to contact Roy Gullane in preparation for the previous two articles, which took place at the 2007 St. Louis Highland Games of which Alex was the entertainment director. He will be sorely missed by everyone for his gentle spirit, good humor and love. Our prayers and best wishes of love, healing and comfort go to Carrie and his family.

Roy Gullane, pt. 2

2007-10-16T14:23:00.000-07:00

Beau Buffington: You were talking about your grandfather onstage. Is music in your family?

Roy Gullane: Not really, when I mentioned my grandfather, it was more for his dialect. He spoke the language that we sing in.

B.B.: Broad Scots?

R.G.: That's right.

B.B.: Was music something that you did with your grandfather?

R.G.: No, but I learned the language through him, so I knew what I was singing about whereas people don't anymore, as if it's a dead thing. The younger kids speak what they learn on television.

B.B.: Would you consider yourself more of a songwriter, musician, or poet? Cause I know you've written a lot of songs.

R.G.: If anything, I'm not a poet. Anything I write that rhymes always ends up as a song! In broad terms, I suppose that I'm more of a musician than a writer, because I don't write prolifically.

B.B.: In terms of poetry, is that something that you are familiar with?

R.G.: Not really. For me poetry was something that we had to learn in school. That said, I appreciate it, but not when it got too academic.

B.B.: Well, I'm thinking of this song Land of Light. That was one you wrote, right?

R.G.: That's right.

B.B.: Where did that come from?

R.G.: The origins of that were we had been asked to do music for a movie. I went to meet the producer in London, and I wrote Land of Light on the train on the way back. Just wrote it in my head. It was one I made for a movie.

B.B.: It seems like really a hopeful song.

R.G.: Yeah, it was kind of a finale. The story of the movie was it was about a guy named Sawney Bean, who was a factual Scottish character, and was the last person to be burnt for his crimes. He was a cannibal. He and his family lived in Ayrshire and they used to eat passersby. And the premise of the movie was that in the end, of course, they get caught and burned. And this was when the Land of Light came in.

B.B: So was it used in the movie?

R.G.: The movie never happened. They never got the financing. But periodically, I see articles in the newspaper about people trying to revive this story and make a movie about it.

B.B.: It's sort of ironic that it's this hopeful, loving song but in terms of the context of the movie, it was a pretty dark subject! Maybe the light and dark go together.

R.G.: Yes, exactly! It's a song for the happy ending.

B.B.: Hollywood likes to do that!

R.G.: You've got to get an inspirational message at the end.

B.B.: A feature of your vocal-style is your range. I'm thinking of Mary Morrison where it goes way down and way up. Do you have a particular approach to your vocal style? Have you ever taken voice lessons?

R.G.: No, I just sing it and see what happens. It's trial-and-error. That's what I have and that's all I've got.

B.B.: Do you identify with the idea of being a troubadour? Like singing love songs and spreading good will?

R.G.: Not really. But, I do think in another era, in a different time, maybe. I'm just born for the travelling and the public appearances. I don't entirely enjoy doing anything else.

B.B.: I know that you live in the Netherlands now. Is this a location that allows you to be more creative? If not, where is that place where you are the most creative?

R.G.: My favorite "location" for creativity is that place between waking and dreaming; alot of good ideas have come from that place like, "I'm not getting up today!" {laughing}

B.B.: How has technology changed the way that you approach music?

R.G.: Not a great deal. It's just that you expect to sound better. The equipment is so much better than it used to be, but the way we do it is the way that we'd be doing it around the table or the way that we'd be doing it onstage. It doesn't make any difference to the way we'd approach it.

B.B.: I've been on your Myspace account and on a couple of different websites. Were those fans who set those up?

R.G: The websites are something that we don't always know about. The Myspace is something we set up. My girlfriend set that up and takes care of it. It's her baby.

B.B. It's very content rich.

R.G.: Figure that you've got the capabilities there, why not try to make it as interesting as possible? You know, stick video and music on it so that people will come and see what's happening. They come and visit it quite regularly. Good marketing, that's the idea.

B.B.: I saw that the Dixie Chicks were your friends.

R.G.: Ahhhhh. {Quietly} We don't know them. But it looks good, doesn't it {laughing}?

B.B.: It does! You've got friends in high places.

Gullane and Dylan, Pt. 1

2007-10-07T07:11:00.000-07:00

I've seen Bob Dylan perform live twice in my life: once at Memphis in May on Cinqo de Mayo on Beale Street along the Mississippi River in 2002 and the other at the Missouri State Fair in Sedalia along the dirt racing track a few weeks later. Now, I've seen Roy Gullane twice in my life also: once in Tulsa at the performing arts center years ago and last night at Forest Park in St. Louis. For me, both Dylan and Gullane have voices that have become symbols of two distinct genres of music: the American Folk and the Scottish Folk scenes. Both voices have been instrumental in my perception of what it takes to make a brilliant songwriter and vocalist.

My perception of songwriting and singing has, no doubt, become biased by many years of listening to the music of the Tannahill Weavers, who were formed almost forty years ago in Paisley, Scotland. (Paisley is a district know for weaving - think "Paisley Pattern" - and the Tannies take their first name from the Scottish Romantic poet Robert Tannahill.) I have learned many more of the songs performed by Roy Gullane over years of listening and singing along, but have only recently begun to appreciate Bob Dylan after seeing him live. Furthermore, Gullane's fantastic vocal range, powerful ethos and tender pathos would be enough to make Dylan envious even on his best days. Yet, both singers share the unique gift of being able to make a personal connection with the entire audience.

The Concert

The Tannies first performance of the highland games was a wonderful cross section of 40 years of music together: at least one sing along ("The Final Trawl"), lots of excellent piping, flute, fiddle and bouzouki instrumentals PLUS those fantastic bass pedals! I realize now how much Les Wilson's use of the drone-like bass pedals has influenced my idea of how a perfect folk-rock song is brought to a dramatic crescendo.

When I approached Gullane after the set, I fumbled with words – where do I begin to converse with a person whose songs have taught me more about Scottish history than my 20+ years of playing highland bagpipes? Finally, I was able to carefully enunciate words between mumbles "I would like to talk to you between sets tomorrow. Did you get the email from your manager?" He nodded and seemed agreeable to the idea. "See you tomorrow," he affirmed.

"I'll be here," I enthusiastically replied, and then I was compelled for some reason to add, "the hair really makes you look like Dylan!"

"We have the same hairdresser," he piped without missing a beat.

Getting to the Hotel

Even if I had printed the directions from Forest Park to the hotel off of Mapquest, it still would have been one giant leap of faith between the labrythine Forest Park, the dark night, the confounding construction detours and the all-too-eager to accelerate upon a clueless tourist city drivers. In spite of my unfamiliarity with the route, the construction, the darkness and the big city drivers, I found the hotel without a hitch.

I checked in, parked my car, slipped the key card into the slot and started to open the back door. Just then, I heard some voices and had the sudden compulsion to slip through the door, find my room and just go to sleep. However, as I glanced over my shoulder I viewed the familiar silhouettes of the band. With great honor, I held the door open for all as they struggled to lug suitcases and instruments. Gullane's eyes twinkled beneath his Dylan-esque salt-and-pepper curly nimbus and he nodded as he walked by.

In the next issue: Chatting with Roy Gullane

Hyde Park

2007-09-04T15:39:00.000-07:00

I spent the weekend in Kansas City with my mom and my wife. My wife danced in an Irish dance competition called a feis and my mom and I watched in amazement. There is something spectacular about a single Irish dancer in full, shiny regalia with the dress, shoes, headband and the curly wig. But a whole room full of the dancers is really a sight to behold! My wife did quite well in the competitions, two 2nds, one 3rd and one 1st. Naturally, she was also the prettiest dancer in the whole contest.

We stayed at the Hyatt Regency in the Crown Center, and at some point, I made the connection between this hotel and the site of the terrible collapse of the Skywalk. The whole time we were there, I tried to understand where the feature would have fit into the spacious atrium of the hotel, which is now only distinguished by a grand piano on a round pedastal, a modest fountain and an impressive 3-dimesional sculpture of hanging glass orbs like many drops of dew on a perfectly uniform matrix of cobwebs.

I vaguely remember the news coverage of the event one morning when I was in elementary school. But my research upon our return home Sunday yielded evidence of the worst structural engineering failure in U.S. history: 114 deaths, 200 serious injuries, countless lawsuits and an evening in July of 1981 that became a nightmare for a whole city. To this day, there is evidently no recognition of the events of that night, no bronze plaque or so much as a cursory nod to those who died at this spot.

On a much lighter note, this is a picture of myself with my 92 year old 1st cousin, 2 generations removed. Walter went to high school with my grandpa Pierce in Golden City, Missouri. I never knew Pierce at all, so to hear about him secondhand seems to help bring him alive for me. Walter is a remarkable specimin of robust vitality, sharp intellect, ironic humor and local trivia of his neighborhood in Hyde Park, roughly six blocks from downtown Kansas City. I first met Walter at a family reunion in Lamar in 2005 and then stayed the night in his backyard on my way to have an uilleann pipe lesson with Kirk Lynch in Weston, Missouri. Besides the tiny piles of doggie doo in his backyard, his turf was a wonderful welcome mat to my tent, where I slept soundly zipped into my sleeping bag in downtown Kansas City.

The Halfway Hornpipe

2007-08-08T12:35:00.000-07:00

I got my bellows back from the pipe-maker last week in time to play for the ceili in Branson. (This was the same bellows that, just a few weeks ago, been declared "knacked" by Fred Morrison!) It is definitely airtight now, with not so much as a single drop of air leaking from the leather. Unfortunately, the pipe-maker had to replace the lovely worn, brown leather with a new, boring black piece. So, I had to exchange the warm patina of the old bellows leather that looked like a well-used baseball glove for the no-patina look of a flat back piece that may as well be naughahyde {Sigh}. To his credit, he did not charge me for anything but postage for the bellows back to Missouri, and I really appreciate his willingness to work on stuff long over warranty.

The tune "Nameless (Halfway Hornpipe)" was one that I wrote in high school for a PTA competition called "Reflections." I had played bagpipe for a few years at that point and had probably tried my hand at composition several times, but the competition gave me a focal point for my efforts. I chose the name "Nameless (Halfway Hornpipe)" not because I wanted to be mysterious and defy definition, but because I felt a little presumptuous to call it anything. So, I settled on the parenthetical Halfway Hornpipe because I was from the little town of Halfway, and I thought it was kindof a clever and self-deprecating name. I got an honorable-mention for the piece and was even asked to perform it at the PTA regional meeting in Springfield. Recently, I scanned it to send to a Scottish piper who lives part of the time in Kansas and part in Donegal, Ireland. He is actually there now, but he has no problem accessing the internet by using a high-speed connection at a community facility in a village of 500!

(NOTE: The tune used in the ceili clip is a traditional tune called "Over The Waterfall." I will try to record my own composition in the future, but I need to practice it first!)

Full of Joy

2007-07-12T09:18:00.001-07:00

I will do my best to condense the last few weeks of experiences: 2 weddings, 3 trips, numerous impromptu jam sessions, the reemergence of 2 long, lost friends and a box full of old LPs.

I didn't take any notes during my sister's pre-week, pre-wedding celebration when many future in-laws and friends of her future groom came from England to help them celebrate. This photo was taken on the last day in Missouri and before they all went off to their respective destinations: New York, England and Disneyworld. I was able to make a connection with my sister's, husband's brother and convince him to take my card and CD to Goldie in Bovingdon and try to get an autograph for me. (For those who don't know, Goldie is a graffiti-artist turned jungle DJ who started a record label called Metalheadz and was featured in the movie "Snatch".) He is also half Scottish, half Jamaican = a great mix of Celtic madness and pure Caribbean soul.

I accompanied my wife to a dance workshop in St. Louis on the weekend after the wedding and spent most of the day in Forest Park. The following is dated 6/9/07 Forest Park, 2:45 pm:

I dropped my wife off for her dance workshop this morning then asked for directions to "Music Folk" from a friendly woman who struck me as a local. In the course of the drive to the music store, I went thru Webster Groves and had a kind of an eerie flashback to the time when there might have actually been significant groves in this very pleasant - and very suburban - community near St. Louis.

As I passed thru busy intersections, I visualized the trees and imagined a place where people had once identified the space by the presence of trees, their full foliage character changing with the seasons and associated with a very unique and special location: none other like it and instantly recognizable by the trees. How had the presence and the character of those trees, those groves, helped people to cope with life and love and death since time immemorial? I thought back to the recent ice-storm devastation of our trees in Springfield, some of which simply perished but all will never be the same again.

Stopping by a local cafe and opening a local paper to the real estate section and eating my oriental egg wrap, I couldn't help but wonder about all the agony and ecstasy that had gone on in each of those spaces: births, deaths, marriages, divorces, affairs, promotions, firings, ill-timed breakdance sessions - every single range of experiences conceivable.

So, being back in Webster Groves reminds me of the summer that I came up to stay with the Bowers, who were friends of my parents with children all about the same age as my family. I was such a square, country boy in the tubular suburbs and I thought that I had just died and gone to pre-pubescent suburban heaven. Before I came to the city, I had a breakdance class at the YMCA, so I felt that I could travel anywhere in the big city unimpeded by spending my new currency of waves and worms and breaks. When I visited Dan's friend's house in Webster Groves and watched Prince's "When Doves Cry" on MTV for the first time, I was possessed by the spirit of breakdance, which beckoned me to break, wave, worm and moonwalk. (I might have even tried a windmill, but I had to miss that last class since I came to the city to try my new moves.) They were not impressed.

Later at the art museum, I was in awe of the spaces that had been animated by the artwork of centuries ago. However, some of the most impressive objects in terms of sheer magic were the items from Africa and Oceania: a West African anti-sorcerer's cape with the beak of a bird and numerous other totems woven into the dark burlap cloth, a primitive mask from Paupa New Guinea that turned out to be an actual human skull covered with clay and shells and real human hair. The whole Oceania display seemed rather dark and sinister, but that was possibly due to the fact that all the artifacts were housed in a dimly-lit basement....

Hmmm. One wedding and one trip thus chronicled. The other facets of my extended absence from my beloved, literary homeland include a last minute decision to travel to Overland Park, Kansas for a barbeque held by the Executive board of the Midwest Highland Arts Fund where we were joined by none-other than the legendary Fred Morrison, crown prince of Celtic kitchen piping; a wedding in Eureka Springs at the famous glass-and-wood chapel in the boondocks that i can't remember the name of except the fact that it's a Fay Jones original; a cruise by Harrison where a fellow piper-dancer couple fed us with good food and good advice then sent me off with a box full of old Celtic music LPs including the Chieftains in China and the title track of this post "Full of Joy."

Two weddings, three trips and a box full of LPs down. 2 long lost friends to go. Well, one of my friends contacted me out of the blue and said that he was going to be in town to visit some friends and could he stop by. Later that week, we had a beer together on the back porch, and he told me of the work that he has been doing as a firefighter and a GIS mapper on an indian reservation. He laughed, "Indians don't even refer to themselves as native Americans but as indians!"

Contact with the other friend happened in a much less straightforward way: at the bbq in Overland Park, myself and several other pipers were playing music with Fred Morrison and in walks a guy who looks so familiar, someone who I thought that I should know, but my conscious brain would just not allowed me to perceive him in the new context.

I just shrugged it off and thought, "Ehhh, that guy just looks Scottish, that's all. Could be anyone." Furthermore, I had gotten burned by that whole, "Are you so-and-so?" line and it turns out that the new person has nothing to do with the old person. (Actually, I found out that even when I lived in Asia and was surrounded by thousands of complete strangers a week - Koreans - I could still pick out someone who would inevitably remind me of someone else - an American - at home.)

Needless to say, I played the whole "I wonder if that guy IS who I think he is" game way too cool and didn't approach him. After the fellow in question had left and speaking with a fellow piper outside, I found out that the fellow in question had, indeed, relocated to Kansas and was taking on new students. This guy was the guy! After a 2-hour call last night to catch up on life between here and Scotland, it was decided that I am going to Kansas next week for a bagpipe lesson. Awesome!

Korea and the Red Cross

2007-05-21T12:48:00.001-07:00

I spoke with a woman last week at the Red Cross in regards to a volunteer position as a grantwriter. I was pretty impressed with the facility and with her: she had an easy-going yet engaging manner of relating. When she told me that she had spent several years in South Korea, that her parents were missionaries and that she was a graduate of the Yonsei university intensive Korean language program, I felt that she was a kindred spirit of sorts. I told her of my experience in Korea and then asked her if she had been to Soo's Korean restaurant, home of the most authentic Korean food this side of Chicago. When she said that she hadn't, I was adamant about the fact that she needed to try it out.

When I returned this afternoon to visit with her more in depth about the volunteer position, I found out that she was out sick. There was some confusion about who I needed to speak to in regards to what. I met another fellow in the office who said that, indeed, she was so sick that she couldn't even get out of bed. I said, "Oh dear, I hope she didn't eat at the restaurant that I recommended and get sick!"

This picture was taken in approximately September of 1997 at Kyeriongsan Mountain. I had travelled there with these students and new acquaintances and had climbed the mountain in a long parade of families, high-heeled ajummas and high-energy ajushis. Finally, when we got to the top of the mountain, I heard the legend about this elevated place: if you climb it 3 times, you will automatically go to heaven! When I look back at this photo, I feel as if I had already been there.

Branson: The Lowe Family and The Landing

2007-05-21T01:35:00.000-07:00

My wife and I took our moms to the Lowe Family show at the Welk Resort Theatre in Branson last Thursday in celebration of Mother's Day and also my wife's mom's birthday. The Lowes are a family of multi-instrumental, song-and-dance virtuosos who originally hail from Utah. I have been working with Doug, the only male sibling, for about two years on the pipes and have seen the show with my wife once before. However, this was the first time that I have seen him perform live on his pipes.

The show was awesome and so much fun! Doug and his sisters display a dizzying array of talents for singing, dancing, and performance on a wide variety of instruments including violin, piano, banjo, guitar, whistle and of course BAGPIPES! When Doug stepped out of the fog-machine generated atmosphere during the second act of the show playing the pipes, it really was a powerful moment--very magical! I was so proud of his performance of "Highland Cathedral." He had worked an arrangement out with one of his sisters to play a timpini during the piece, which added to the drama of the foggy scene.

After the show, we went to the Branson Landing to check out the Cantina Laredo, which has been highly recommended by everyone who has eaten there. Our lunch did not disappoint: the food was delicious, and even though we dined inside, we still were in a prime spot to appreciate the fire-and-water show taking place outside. At one point during my scarfing down of chips and salsa, I caught a fiery glimmer out of the corner of my eye and felt the warmth of an infrared spray. The water and fire fountain display took a few moments to fully grasp on a conscious level, so elemental and dramatic was its effect.

May Day

2007-05-07T10:41:00.000-07:00

Celtic Fire danced at a May Day celebration at MSU, and my wife called me that morning to tell me that a highland piper was performing there. "Oh boy," thought I, "another piper in Springfield. Maybe it's time to form a band."

When I got to MSU and listened to him play for a few minutes, I was really impressed with his repertoire and technique. During a break, I spoke to him and found out that he had travelled up from Dallas not once but twice to play for MSU. (Originally, I was contacted by someone from the Student Activities Council about playing, but I didn't follow up until it was too late.)

The piper's name was Jimmy Mitchell, and here is me shaking his hand. Does't he look like an Oreo cookie? Just kidding. But, we couldn't help but chuckle "Jimmie Mitchell Motors in Aurora - where nobody beats ARE deal" Over the course of several minutes worth of conversation in several different locations at PSU, I found out that Mitchell went to St. Thomas Episcopal in Houston, TX and had played the pipes in several World Pipe Band championships with Mike Cusack as pipe major. No wonder his technique was near immaculate; he had worked for years under the first American Gold medalist.

When Mitchell mentioned the name Lars Sloan, I was taken aback. I downloaded some of Sloan's music and was humbled by his impressive technique. Mitchell was the other guy on the webpage that Google had automatically posted to my blog, the picture that reminded me of John Higgins, my own teacher for a time. So once again, the magic of Blogger gives me the opportunity to experience the serendipity of being at the right place at the right time.

Galloway Station

2007-04-24T06:25:00.000-07:00

Last night was the weekly session at Galloway Station, and we were 'fiddle-light' as three of the three fiddlers were absent from their usual perches on the back porch of Galloway Station. Lee, LeeAnn, Max and John had all gone to a performance of LeeAnn's at Drury for the civic orchestra, and Brian is getting ready for his wedding in a few weeks. Plus, we were missing Steve and Linda W., who are regular heavy-weights when it comes to trad. tunes and performance. Even my wife was gone, step-dancer rhythmic guru that she is, as she had gone to a performance of one of her friends in Willard.

I never thought that I would miss all those strings, horsehair and rosin so much! Nothing else quite stirs up a crowd like a fiddle; maybe it's the way that the fiddley overtones cut thru the air, but nothing else gets people moving like a fiddle. So, we did what any group without a musical quorum does: played for the sheer enjoyment of it! Besides, it's not what you play when you know what to play that counts; it's what you play when you don't know what to play that music magic happens.

We all really had to pull our own musical weight, but it takes alot of experience and confidence, plus a way to really push those notes out of your instrument and acoustically project. My mom does a fair job, but she is kindof erratic in how she plays tunes. Of course, I could say the same thing about myself sometimes; it's just that I have alot more experience performing erratically in those types of situations.

Everyone present did a good job of rising to the musical occassion. Liz, the harp player, even came and she has obviously been practicing her harp, as she is really beginning to project her sound nicely: she chorded alot to several of the regular tunes, and I really liked to hear that chordal background to a melodic line that was pretty well dominated by air-fairy flutes and whistles and pipes. She also led melodically on a few tunes, but unfortuntately it's hard to hear a harp in a noisy outdoor situation.

During the performance, which went on for almost two hours, I noticed that one of my graduate school classmate's boyfriend walked in. He nodded at me and I nodded back. On my way out the door, I said hi to him, and it turns out that he works with Barb, my dad's new wife, in the pharmaceutical sales business. What a small world! Chad called me by my real name "Jason" again, so I mentioned that my nickname was "Beau" and that I had always gone by that. When he first met Barb and heard her last name, he asked her if she knew a Jason. She said something like, "I don't know a Jason, but I know a Beau. But, Jason is Beau." So, he already knew my nickname, or alter ego, I should say. It's the Gemini in me: we're twins and two for the price of one!

An American Teacher in South Korea

2007-04-19T20:08:00.000-07:00

Once upon a time, many years ago, I lived in South Korea and worked as an ESL teacher. For those who don't know, being an English teacher in Korea is one perfect solution for those recent college graduates who have no idea what they want to be when they grow up. I was one such college graduate.

I took my first job in Korea based on an internet ad for a recruiter out of LA. After we negotiated the terms of the contract, I mailed my passport, he mailed me a ticket, I met him at the airport, he handed my passport back to me and I was off to the Land of the Morning Calm, a moniker which has a pitious pathos in light of recent tragic events.

After one year at Yongha Sagae Hakwon or English World Institute, I made the much envied transition to the coveted life as a university lecturer at a university near Seoul. It was everything that I dreamed of! Fifteen teaching hours a week on a beautiful, mountainside campus with 5 MONTHS VACATION! That's right, we worked only two 3 1/2 month semesters per year with the rest of the time spent travelling and working on the next, great American novel, presumably.

It was here that I realized that I love to teach, especially something I know like conversational English....it's so easy to be an automatic authority on a language that you were born to speak. But, there were times that students challenged me to reach outside my own comfort-zone and to describe rules of semantics and syntax that I didn't even have words for. Paul was one such student. (The students all took English names the first week to help me call roll, which was written entirely in Korean Hangul characters.) Paul wanted to be a cartoonist. So, when he asked to do his midterm project on cartooning and when I became the ingratiated subject of the project, here was the result. Paul got an A on the project and in the class.

Stairway to Middle Earth

2007-04-19T15:34:00.000-07:00

Just a few words here before I go off to teach my bagpipe class. Actually, making another blog here was really just another excuse to post this wonderful picture that I took of some hosta gardens that my mom created at the farm in Halfway....it's not the at the edge of the world, but you can see it from there! Doesn't it look like the gateway into the realm of Middle Earth? It's where i grew up and learned to respect the power of the tick demiurges and the elemental forces of chiggers and poison-ivy. Well, i wasn't too susceptible to the power of the poison-ivy goddess. But, the demons of ticks and chiggers were enough to bring a poor hobbit to his furry knees. And at least it wasn't Texas.

Victoria's Secret

2007-04-19T12:52:00.000-07:00

So, there is absolutely no connection between this foto and Victoria's Secret...or is there? Actually, there's not; I just needed to put some image in to fill in space on the page. Also, my wife is simultaneously sitting on the floor and exchanging some clothes that I gave her for her birthday to none-other-than the title of this blog. Cause giving ill-fitting clothes and gift-certificates to my wife for her birthday is the kindof class-act, gift-giving guy that I am.

Anyhoo, there is a story behind the picture above: I went to Beijing, China after I had come back from Thailand and while I was living in Taejon, South Korea. The women on the beach at Ko Pagnan bugged me everyday about having my hair done in corn-rows and finally I caved in and had them do it on the last day. After I went back to Korea, I decided to leave the doo in for the next journey, which was a "waygook" (or foreign) teachers' expedition to China. The photo was taken in the Forbidden City, where the emperor housed his 3,000 concubines. Just look at that peach-fuzz nimbus under my weighty braids: maybe I'm resonating with the emperor's studly ancient Chinese mojo!

I wonder if I should delve back into my journal entries from that trip. I ran across them the other day in that bookcase in the closet. I wasn't a prolific writer during my world travels, but it always seemed that each day was a new adventure and offered ample experiences to write about. Often, the experiences would happen so quickly that I wouldn't be able to write more than a few keywords for days. Later, it was as if the few keywords that I had jotted down would become a sort of mnemonic, memory-retrival device in terms of the experience, fleshing out various situations and characters.

For example: "Wivat-Comfortable Bar-Ko Chang" might be a semantic portal into a whole rich package of memories. Or another: "The Louvre-Mint Ice Cream-Mink Fur in July" was another stargate on the same world tour....the Two-Thousand Zero-Zero Party Over, Ooops Outta Time 1999 Summer of Love World Tour. Ok, here is one more for my wife's perusal (my first and only reader, at this point). Mee Kong River-Ginger Chicken-Plain of Jars. Wouldn't you like to know? Maybe I will just call it "Buffpiper's Secret" and retire to my life of world-adventure and ease in the land of Celtoria!

New Blog Takes Writer by Storm!!

2007-04-18T14:34:00.000-07:00

Ok, ok, Blogger might not be that new to the web, but it's new to me and I'm so excited to have this vehicle for expressing myself online now that I'm going to add a second part to my previous post. I wrote to Paddy Keenan today, the legendary travelling uilleann piper from Ireland and now living in New Hampshire. I had the good fortune of seeing him twice in St. Louis at the Focal Point. At the time, he was working with a new guitarist and they were still working some of the rough edges out. To make matters better (or worse in the sake of the turnout), the St. Louis Cardinals were playing an important game for the World Series that same night, so the turnout left much to be desired. Still, Paddy played brilliantly and told several great stories, like how he and Finbar Furey used to procur aluminum tubing to make whistles by drilling on parts of antennas, which were not still connected to the main antenna vein (by both natural and manmade means of disconnection).

What really impressed me during the show was, here is this great resource in terms of the life of a travelling musician in Ireland, a prodigious piping icon. For example, this guy was invited to audition for the Beatles at Abbey Road when they were auditioning new sounds for albums, but he lost heart and went to hawk his pipes at a pawn shop. Or maybe I'm mixing the stories up, but that's why I need to write the book! So, here is the letter that I wrote to Paddy in its entirety:

Subject: The Paddy Keenan Biography

Hi There--

I am a professional writer living near Springfield, Missouri and have met Paddy in St. Louis on two occasions. Also, I have had the good fortune of growing up with Paddy's music, listening especially to the "Brown Album" and other albums of the Bothy Band. There are many great stories about Paddy's life that I have read online or heard in person, but I think that it's time that these anecdotes were compiled into a single work that is befitting a man of his depth of talent and breadth of experience. Being a published writer and musician myself, I think that I could bring a unique qualification to the undertaking of writing Paddy's biography.

It would be entirely feasible to collaborate over the telephone and with the Internet, or I could also arrange to meet him again in person. I am currently researching the publishing of e-books for another project, and this might be one possible way to get the book not only published but also marketed through online book sellers such as Amazon. The publisher takes a small percentage of profits for marketing and distribution, I would take a percentage and Paddy would take the remaining and largest portion. The exact business arrangement can be worked out later. But the point is, I will not be paid anything up front but only when books are sold.

Paddy can view samples of my writing (and even my music, most humbly!) on my website http://www.jabuffington.com/about/mywriting.htm

Please email me or phone at ###-#### when you would like to begin this important project.

Sincerely,

Buffpiper

###

So, I changed my number to look anonymous and important. Of course, I have done so much shameless self-promotion on the Internet lately that I'm not much of either. But, I already have these pipedreams in my mind's eye about how I'm gonna write the book for Paddy and it's gonna be an international best-seller and we will go on a publicity tour with agents and talk shows and green rooms and groupies. Ok, strike that last one off the official record for my wife's sake, the most beautiful (and rhythmic) groupie that I've ever met.

Breaking News: Google Has Conquered Blogs!

2007-04-18T13:54:00.000-07:00

By Jove, those geniuses at Google have done it again, this time with the absolutely wonderful, right outta the box blog.....Blogger. It was only last week that I said to my wife, "I need to be able to save in PDF to properly embed the graphics in my technical docs" and it was no sooner said than it appeared, almost as if by magic, Google Docs-beta. Now, not only can I save all of my documents as Word documents and RTF, but also I can save PDF files!

Of course, there is some formatting weirdness that will, no doubt, get ironed-out in the Google Docs-alpha version, if it goes that direction. Maybe it's beta, gamma, alpha. So, then it would be Google Docs-gamma. Now that sounds like a radioactive title if I ever heard of one. Unlike my "Celtoria" title for this new blog. I obviously didn't lose any sleep over that one. Weak. Sounds like a place where magical fairies go leaping around in kilts and leotards, a regular Riverdance meets Midsummer Night's Dream. But, after all, I am a piper with a penchant for kilt-wearing and pipe squeezing, er, bag squeezing. So it'll have to do 'till my wife says otherwise.

Speaking of blogs, it was just this week that I decided I needed to publish a blog. I am, after all, supposedly this "master writer" according to the paper on my diploma, and shouldn't I be sharing my masterful communicative ability in the 21st century medium of the blog? Ok, Ok, I'm also a Gemini with a Gemini-rising, which is a regular Air sign double-whammy. But, I am also a professional writer with a desire to connect to a much larger audience. Now, thanks to Google I am doing it! I'd like to thank Google, the academy, my parents and the Great Google Blog called Celtoria!