Music

I just got way over paid for a gig. Not that I'm complaining, but when I play in two pieces and get paid the same amount as the soloist? That's just silly. Especially when the gig is as fun as that.

The baroque choir conductor that I've been working for put together a concert to fund the Bach cantatas that he's been doing. There was a Telemann recorder concerto, some English clarinet music, a lovely cantata by Pepusch (I love baroque recitative; love love love it), and then a bunch of gorgeous a capella singing- some early music, some arrangements of jazz tunes and (I'm so serious here) Old MacDonald. The choir is made up of the conductor's friends from University and the are fabulous. Really wonderful to listen to. I was grinning while sitting in the audience and just kept thinking to myself that a: I want to sing in a choir and b: I love music. I love love love it. (Which sometimes I forget.)

After the gig we went to this adorable/expensive local pub (that's what you get for living in a posh London suburb) and everyone was lovely. I ended up chatting to two people in particular and because the singers all have real world jobs we ended up talking about job opportunities and ideas. One woman is an English teacher and was telling me all about the training for that- apparently it is very flexible, fun, and with this certification allows you to teach literally anywhere in the world. (She's using it to travel the globe, not a bad idea.) Then there was a fellow who works at The Royal Albert Hall and each time I mentioned a project that I had worked on he would spout off two or three organizations I should put my name in for. So we exchanged contact information because I want to pick his brain when I have a notebook nearby.

The recorder soloist was a friend of mine from Guildhall that I haven't seen in a year and a half. So we spent the train journey catching up and chattering away like chickens. (Do chickens chatter? I mostly like that phrase (that I may have made up) because of the alliteration.) She's got very into medieval music recently and we now have a master plan that involves me learning the medieval harp (don't worry- it's small! (ish)) and forming a trio with her partner. Brilliant? I think so.

The fun thing about traveling on public transport with the bass is that everyone talks to you. This is annoying sometimes, but tonight I was game. I was also on two different trains and three different tube lines, so there were a lot of different people to talk to. There was the couple from Boston (my sister! she's moving there! wheee!), the man from Essex who works for French Connection, and then on the final leg of the journey three hipsters who managed to involve the whole of our section of the carriage in our conversation.

"That's a double bass"

yes. Yes it is.

"What'd you play?"

the double bass.

"No! No, I mean what music?"

Telemann concerto.

"Dude. Telemann sucks. 400 concertos and they all sound the same."

... why do you know that?

"Everyone knows that."

You, over there in the corner. Do you know who Telemann is? Nope? Didn't think so.

"He's a composer"

Ah. That explains it.

They were funny. And wearing 3D glasses and 1940's women's felt hats. I love London .

Oh! And the reason this is "music" and not just "gig" is because on Thursday I went to see the London Philharmonia with Gil Shaham playing the Walton violin concerto and it was *amazing* he looked like he was having so much fun and rambled around the stage playing the violin. The orchestra rocked and the second half was The Planet's by Holst. It was an excellent, excellent concert. Made all the more fun by the fact that Gwen had managed to get us seats in the centre 7th row. Heck yeah!

Scotland: Number 4

We were on the tour bus for two days and then spent one more day in Edinburgh before hopping onto the Caledonian Sleeper at midnight that took us back to London. The sleeper train was a decently good idea- it was cheaper than other train times and it meant that we got to maximize our time in Scotland while minimizing the amount that we spent on hotels, but it was not the most comfortable sleep I've ever had. Ah well. Anyhow- on our Edinburgh tourist day we goaded the guide at the gate of the castle into taking a pictures with us, walked around the grounds, looked at a tartan mill, wandered through the writers museum, looked at stained glass windows in St. Giles' Cathedral, and were walking down towards the National Museum of Scotland to look at Pictish artifacts when museum walking caught up to us and we needed a break to rest our backs.

Fortunately Edinburgh is full of the best looking, most inviting, and characterful pubs I've ever seen. So we wandered off the main road and ended up in The Royal Oak. Man, were we lucky enough to wander in there. The pub is about the size of my parents' living room. Snug, inviting, and covered in "Best Folk Music Venue" awards. Being such a small place it was easy to get to chatting with the other folk there. Chief among the chatters were Mike- the 6'4" bartender from England and Alan- the bekilted genealogist who is from another branch of Wylder's clan. They had a wee tiff about being racist towards the English in Scotland which was settled quickly with a handshake and another beer.

Alan told us all about Sarah's clan and the connections between the various branches and then, upon being asked about a plaque we'd seen in St. Giles' called up a friend and reported back that the Bailey's came to Scotland with the Normans and were part of the Lamont clan? Or something like that? (I have to admit, I wasn't totally following his explanation.) We fully intended to come back that evening to listen to whatever music was playing that night, but when we announced our intention Mike jumped in and said that we needed to go two minutes down the road to The Green Mantle where his band was playing that evening. Which is how, that night, I ended up borrowing a bodhran for one song, singing "where have all the flowers gone" along with the rest of the pub, and trying to figure out if I liked the mandolin or the banjo solos better. Thanks, Mike.