Why the British talk about the weather

My first real brush with the outdoors this year involved a weekend at what will be this year's Midsummer Camp venue.  The last weekend in April and, although not especially cold, it never really stopped raining.  Blind optimism, poor judgement and bad luck caused me to turn up with a strange tent and no car to retreat (or escape in).  And I quickly discovered that my tent had no fly-sheet.

The following weekend was to be the Body Land Movement dance event in Cambridgeshire (see recent post).  I was looking forward to this but confess I didn't fancy another wet camping experience, even though we had been allocated a yurt and the site boasts a kick-ass sauna. And there was another reason why I was apprehensive.

A highlight of the wet weekend in Suffolk was watching a mediaeval band, in costume, playing wonderful music. An experience made all the sweeter by the knowledge that I was about to be rescued from a second wet night in a horse shelter.  One of the players complained of cold hands so, in a fit of mediaeval chivalry, I proffered my hand-warmers.  These garments, a gift from my daughter, make playing outside possible at all times of year.  And now I'll be without them until I return to Suffolk in mid-June.

But just as it looked like the rain would hold off, in spite of near-zero temperatures, and the dance weekend would go ahead, news reached us from Cambridgeshire.  The river had burst its banks, flooding the woodland where we were to camp and hold the workshops. The dance floor and the main infrastructure was unaffected but parking, camping and walking about would be impossible.

Now, only two or three weeks later, we have blazing sunshine and temperatures in the mid twenties.  And who knows what it will be like in September when the re-scheduled event takes place? So, if there's nothing else to talk about in Britain, there's always the weather.

That's the kitchen on the right.  Drinks by the pool, anyone?

Playing outdoors

So much to write about. A new piece of kit, a malfunctioning microphone, selecting tin whistles and, in respect of the whistles, the start of the R&D (research and development) week for The Pied Piper tomorrow.

But all that in good time.  Today I drove across to a piece of woodland south-west of Cambridge where I'll playing for a weekend of expressive dance over the first weekend in May.  It takes place in beautiful woodland with a dance floor in the trees, roofed but not walled, and involves the participants camping in clearings.  Most importantly, the site has a spacious and very effective sauna.


Today's meeting was primarily to connect with the space.  Much as I enjoy playing jazz in gardens for weddings, there is nothing quite like improvising in response to the environment and the moving human body. The Romans used to leave offerings to the genii loci, meaning the spirits of the place.  It is curious that the music I play on this site is completely different from that which comes to me at other sites.  Everywhere has a different  vibe.

Kathakali in Kochi

I have recently returned from India; a fortnight or so in Kerala and Tamil Nadu. It was a family visit so perhaps not as much music as I might have otherwise have pursued but nevertheless I encountered plenty.

I left home in Norwich in the small hours on the back of a jazz gig over in Great Yarmouth. I arrived in Cochin at the end of a particularly long day at about 5.30am, local time.  Having been advised to stay awake until local bedtime, that first day is a bit of a blur.  However, our host at the homestay suggested we go and see a Kathakali performance that evening.  Although watching the performers apply their make-up was fascinating (it took them over an hour) and the live drumming and percussion was a treat, I confess I kept nodding off during the dancing as I struggled against loss of sleep.

I was a better audience for a sitar and tabla recital in the same venue the following evening but I couldn't persuade the rest of my party to come along.

Research and Development

While performing is a real thrill, the process of creating a show can be equally exciting. Last month I was involved in R&D (research and development) for a show exploring light and aimed at very young children. It involved working with an expressive dancer who trained at the highly regarded Laban school of dance in London. Also involved were a specialist in shadow play and the director, both of whom are experienced puppeteers and manipulators of objects.

My own role was to improvise and interact, sonically, with the dancer and respond to the changing images and projections. We spent three consecutive days together and I used a computer in a live situation for the first time. Experience of watching others struggle with technology had put me off in the past but now I felt the time was right. And it paid off.

I was able to loop previously composed soundscapes, take out unwanted sections or layers, and add live sounds to the mix. In the past I would have burned a CD with various options but this was far more versatile. I remain wary of laptops but, like any tool, they should function properly provided they aren't pushed too hard.

The great thing about R&D is that it's pure play. Anything can, and should, be explored. A voyage of exploration to rival those of Captains Cook and Kirk.

And it was a treat working with a real dancer who truly inhabited and understood her body.

Singing Bowls

One item that always scores a hit is the singing bowl. Children are fascinated and thrill-seeking (but usually clean living) Five Rhythms dancers can't get enough.

If, like me, you are fascinated by Tibetan singing bowls then this link to BBC News will interest you. It reports on research into the peculiar behaviour of water in the bowl when the instrument is sounded. If you have a singing bowl and have never tried this then give it a go.

The first bowl I acquired has a tiny hole in it so it is unsuited to this activity, at least indoors. Perhaps it would be prudent to hold your bowl over the sink for a moment while you check for leaks. Incidentally, my holed bowl is perfect and fully functioning in all other respects.

The BBC article touches on potential engineering applications when the physics of the bowls is understood. Perfume atomisers and fuel injectors are cited as early beneficiaries But so far, it seems, the Tibetan singing bowl has not given up its all its secrets.

Playing for Dance

Last week Eastern Straynotes, the little band in which I play clarinet, had a couple of firsts. We were asked to play for one of the monthly gatherings of a group of Lindy Hop enthusiasts upstairs in a bar called Orgasmic. This we duly did with our brand new double bassist Gary Rudd, aka Ukuleleladdy and (soon to be) famous for The Ballad of Ronnie Biggs.

Playing for dance is always rewarding. There's a communication between musician and audience that only happens in this context. It is completely unlike playing for diners who, let's face it, only require a background ambiance and perhaps the cache of eating to a live band. This group of people had come to dance and we knew, by the filling and emptying of the dance floor, whether or not we were hitting the spot. We quickly learned what worked and what didn't. Swing numbers such as Stompin' At The Savoy and Jersey Bounce went down well but one of our favourites, Diga Diga Do (which we medley up with the bar music from the first Star Wars film) bombed because the tempo was too fast. One number that really set the place alight was Topsy - hot swing in a dark minor key.

Given that this is a dance form that kicked off in Harlem in the 1920s and was mainstream in the 1940s I wasn't expecting any original exponents to take the floor but I had anticipated an older crowd. There were certainly oldies in their sixties, possibly older, who had lost some athleticism but were able to convey so much with superb economy of movement. But many were in their twenties and thirties, too, coming to the style with no previous knowledge of partner dance. It was lovely to see the ages mixing and feel a part of that.

So, the first Lindy Hop gig and our first outing with new-kid-in-town Gary. I'll remember it partly for the music and partly for the realisation that the ubiquitous kettle lead (Gary needed one for his amp) is all but obsolete as practically every kettle is now cordless. But mostly I'll remember waiting outside Orgasmic for forty minutes after the gig while Gary tried to get his van, parked a three minute walk away, back to the venue through Norwich's one-way system.

School concerts and technology

Although perhaps I make it seem easy, in fact it is very hard to be critical of performers in school concerts. They are young, they are gaining experience and they are often surprisingly good. If they occasionally have nights they would prefer to forget then they are in very good company. Personally, and with good reason, I am very grateful for an increasing tendency towards forgetfulness.

I have railed against school concerts before: overly long and with a tendency to favour student inclusivity over audience sensibility. One thing I didn't mention back in December was the tyranny of technology. In this respect students are often either poorly advised or given insufficient support. Tracks off CDs can go on and on. Your Year 7 girls may have devised a great routine but can it really be stretched to fill the full five minutes of the track they've chosen to dance to? It may be worth explaining to them that what works on TV does so because of the close-ups, cut-aways, expert make-up and special effects. If the music is being performed live this situation does not arise. The music is tailored to fit the routine and not the other way around. I'm not against using pre-recorded tracks per se but with the technology available in most schools, and indeed in most homes, today it should be possible to make an edit to suit the length of the piece.

Ditto for singers. Kids do look very cute singing along to 'My Heart Will Go On' but, cheap laugh I know, the song goes on a bit too. And when it's sung thin, flat and through an over-loud PA with a microphone technique impaired by nervousness it can last forever. This is one song that needs to be pruned right back.

But things do seem to be improving. I saw an exhibition of street dance at a local secondary school earlier this week. It was short, snappy and high energy with a crisp, exciting edit that left even the non-partisan elements of the audience cheering enthusiastically. I don't know if the track was home made or off-the-shelf. Either way it appears someone has identified a need. It was a rare example of the dog wagging the tail. Let this be the future.