So I went to a fiddle lesson...

Last Friday, I fortuitously did not have a math seminar to attend, for this would have prevented me from attending my first event of the Deep Roots Music Festival: the fiddling master class.

Being a self-taught beginner, I thought I'd no sooner bring my fiddle than I would bring a dozen ill-trained baby monkeys with me. The resultant noise would be a distraction and annoyance, no matter how chaotically amusing. Lessons are for more advanced people, I thought. They're for quick learners and people with good pitch. I figured it would be way over my head, but that it would be a good learning experience, and a taste of something I could aspire to.

While I was waiting for the lesson, I met photo fiddler and his lovely wife for the first time. It was nice to have someone to talk shop and share the lesson with. I also ran into Tess, a woman who plays at the Sunday night session here in town, and she had a fiddle in hand, though it is not her primary instrument. She asked where my instrument was, and I said I didn't dare bring it. Ominously, she said that she had learned to regret leaving instruments behind, and always brought hers now, just in case.

Jay Ungar and Troy MacGillivray each gave a class: Jay took the advanced players and Troy took the intermediates. They each played a little bit for the whole group to give us a taste for their styles, before splitting us up into groups. Most people stayed in the advanced class, while I and a half dozen young children skipped into the adjoining room with Troy.

I should have brought my fiddle. I was twice the age of the next youngest student, and even though he knows more than I do, I could have kept up with the other kids at least. Darn it!

Well, we learned the Highlander's Jig. Nice and slow, two bars at a time, repeated until everyone got it. What we learned varies slightly from the sheet music here; we played the A part the same both times rather than picking up the second ending.

I made the best of my fiddle-less situation, and I learned on "air fiddle", as unobtrusively as I could. After we did this tune, I crept back into the room where the advanced class was taking place, and listened to them play a Cajun tune whose name I've forgotten. Their music was beautiful and the learners were quick. It was far beyond me, but it was lovely.

Some tidbits I picked up: In Cape Breton playing, you don't get to slur your notes. Articulate them all, please. The first note of the first bar of a dance piece (not including any partial bars of music that start it off, which I forget what they are called) is a down-bow. The jig we learned was in A, and Troy taught the class to throw a little trill onto pretty much any high A they played. That was as complex as ornamentation got, which is great for me.

When I got home, I yanked out my fiddle off its shelf and scratched away until I got the tune out. Not to speed or anything, but I've got the bones of it. It was a lot of fun.

Next time, I'm bringing the fiddle, just in case.