Brass

Britain has a long tradition of brass bands, originating in the coal mining industry (and other manufacture), where every company had their own company brass band. These would compete against each other, and today, most British brass bands enter competitions and championships, and there is a league system like in football. This means, that most British children who are learning brass instruments will at some point compete, and the general level of playing is quite high.

I joined a brass band in Edinburgh where people just play for fun. The players are quite good though. They are also very friendly, and go to the pub after each rehearsal. Today, I talked to one of the guys who practises his trombone several times a week, depending on the weather, on a hill in a large park near Edinburgh.

My flatmate tells me I can practise in the attic in our new flat. If I fit through the hatch.

Giggleswick

How to describe music summercamp? It was a week filled with music classes, concerts and performances, eating together, drinking together and enjoying the company of friendly people who share the same interests.

We were 170 people of all ages between 16 and 92, although the average age was probably above 50. This was one reason for me to sign up - this wouldn't be a knocking shop, and people would be quite relaxed about musical skills. I could just relax and not worry about singing or playing poorly, or impressing boys. The musical focus was on folk music, jazz music, and a little bit of classical music as well. The tutors were high-caliber professional musicians, most of them also teaching music at university.

Most people were staying in the school which was more like a small village. I had a little room to myself under the roof with a sink and a mirror, and a shared bathroom in the hall. Food was excellent, and it was served to a strict schedule in a dining hall. I sat with different people for each meal, and everyone was friendly.

I was probably most nervous about my jazz voice class. This was about performing jazz songs solo in front of people. We did a couple of songs together, and each student had also prepared a song to rehearse and then perform at a student concert. We sang the first song together, Have You Met Ms. Jones, and then each of us sang 8 bars on their own. Once that was out of the way and I felt that I was doing ok, I relaxed a bit and started to enjoy the class.

My Ukulele class turned out to be a bit too slow-paced for my taste. I did learn new things, but too few of them, and too slowly. I dropped it and took up Dixieland instead. Dixieland was great. We had a tuba, banjos, clarinets, saxophones, trumpets, guitar, and a tutor who had a huge smile on his face, handed out the music, and wasn't precious about the outcome. He made everyone play an improvised solo - and then everyone at the same time. The outcome was loud and fun and chaotic, and much more musical than expected. The tutor told me later in the bar that he had never taught adults before - he was filling in for someone else on short notice.

And finally, my First Steps In Improvisation class was very surreal, hugely entertaining and impossible to describe.

I ended up playing my trumpet much more than expected - after seven years of not playing it at all. It all came back quickly, and I remembered that I once quite liked it.

There were student concerts at night after dinner, and there was a bar and cheap drinking. People were playing their instruments everywhere, rehearsing for one of the many performances, or just jamming. I joined a bunch of recorder players for a session of recorder playing. On my birthday, I joined a jam session with my trumpet. I sang a jazz song to an audience of maybe fifty people, accompanied by piano. At the dance after the gala dinner I danced a quickstep with the only man at the camp who could ballroom dance, 92-year-old Norman. And for the last day, I rejoined the ukulele class to perform with them in the big final all-day student concert. At the ceilidh at night, I showed the mostly English crowd how they dance in Scotland.

It was indeed all very lovely.

School grounds - I stayed in the house on the left

A Giggleswick house

Gala dinner

Late night drinking with boys from Ipswich and Doncaster

Festival fall-out

Oh yeah, this happened:

Some of our amazing volunteers celebrate 70 Years of the Edinburgh Festivals with Nicola Sturgeon and Roger Spence pic.twitter.com/sqrvIqAHh5

— EdinburghJazzFest (@EdinburghJazz) 16 August 2017

Music school

Folks, I'm away at a summer school of music in England for a week!

I packed all instruments I could find apart from the fiddle: the uke, trumpet, kazoo, rekorder (my favourite!), harmonica, and a borrowed music stand. Also my glad rags and dancing shoes for the gala dinner.

This is happening in a boarding school with the great name of "Giggleswick" in Settle in the Yorkshire Dales. Kat and I once walked from Settle to Malham (*click*) over the hills, arriving at Malham in the dark -  and I never blogged about it!

I am taking three courses: Ukulele, Jazz voice, and first steps in improvisation (trumpet). Ukulele should be easy and fun. Jazz voice is quite outside my comfort zone, and while I have done some improvisation before, the last time I touched my trumpet was probably five years ago. So, good fun ahead!

Jazz festival #5

I volunteered at the Edinburgh Jazz and Blues Festival for the fifth time - ten days of sleeping in, half-days at work, hanging out at gigs, showing people to their seats and the loos, keeping musicians happy and hydrated, pointing at things. Happiest ten days of my year, can't wait for the next one.

Spiegeltent on George Square / Edinburgh Jazz and Blues Festival

Spiegeltent during gig

Spiegeltent during sound check

Back to school

I am early.

I find my way to the notice board and send some other lost souls theirs. My class assembles. Fiddle 1a. We are the second intake this year.

A dozen people from all walks of life. The youngest, a Canadian community gardener in her twenties. The oldest - hard to tell, there are three candidates in at least their seventies. One of them built his own fiddle. He used to play fiddle tunes on a cello to which he added an additional string. Some hesitant conversation and then the teacher arrives. Irish and ohmygod so hothothot.

Last term, my Uke class rehearsed in the language room. The occasional German writing on the blackboard used to tempt me to add something witty, but I could never think of anything witty. Today we're in the addiction room. There are colourful charts about cocaine, cannabis, "ecstacy" and other drugs, with beautiful illustrations, drawings and commentary. It smells funny here. Musty.

The class begins with a long round of introductions. There is another German. This fact we both take with the usual slight embarrassment that is common when German emigrants meet.

We learn to hold the fiddle and the bow, with a floppy hand. The teacher asks us to play the A string. I think I know which one is the A string, but what to do with the bow? The part of the bow that touches the strings is made of hair (horse? hamster?) and needs to be tightened before playing. But by how much? I shout stop, too advanced, and the teacher slows down. We take 25 minutes to tune three out of four strings. In the process we lose two strings which is not so bad considering how many fiddles there are in the room.

The difference between a fiddle and a violin is that you shouldn't spill beer on a violin. I like this relaxed approach to learning music.