Winder Slide

If you happen to look at the little “Tunes of the Week” section on the right side of this blog, you may have noticed that “Winder Slide” has overstayed its welcome and become a Tune of the Month--and perhaps will earn its place as a Tune of the Season in due time. It’s not that I haven’t learned any other tunes this month. It’s not that I haven’t been able to pick up the basic melody of this tune and play along in jams. It’s a matter of stubbornness.

“Winder Slide” drew me in the first time I heard it at a late-night jam around the fire at Rustic Roots. Before collapsing in my sleeping bag that night, I scribbled down “Winder Slide” in a little notebook my fairy godmother gave me, where I keep lists of tunes learned and tunes to learn. A month later, I found Lucy Wise’s recording (the link on this page), and was both intrigued and haunted by her graceful old-time bowing, the rhythm, and her use of double-stops. Now, with most tunes, I learn a basic beginner-friendly version, practice it for a few days, add it to the list, and enjoy playing along when it comes up at jams. But I watched Lucy’s clip over and over again and decided that I must learn this tune just as she plays it. This is much like the way Rayna Gellert, who wrote the tune, plays it in her album, "Ways of the World."

My first attempts were rather pathetic. There was the basic melody to catch by ear, then the syncopated rhythm, and all those fast old timey tricks she does with her bow that I haven’t learned how to do yet. After the first week of failed attempts, a friend went through the recording with me and translated the technical elements, demonstrating them slowly so that, at least, I understood what she was doing, despite not being able to replicate it. I practiced a few more days and gave up on the song for two weeks.

When I revisited Lucy Wise’s clip after the hiatus and attempted to play it, I discovered with great surprise that I could actually do it. Well, slowly and with some rough patches, that is. And so I return to it as a treat while practicing every day, although I still don’t quite have it.

Last Monday at the Salem Jamlet on the pier, someone called “Winder Slide.” I leaned in towards the strongest fiddle so I could listen the first time through. They were playing a simpler version, which I quickly picked it up and began playing with the group. I think this simpler version is one that would be sufficient for playing along at any jam.

But I cannot let go of the more complex, beautiful, haunting version of “Winder Slide” and perhaps one day I will play it like Lucy Wise. My students have recently been studying the Renaissance explorers and we were all fascinated by Henry the Navigator, who spent twelve years attempting to get a voyage to round Africa’s elusive Cape of Bojador. With patience and encouragement, he sent one expedition after another into the great unknown until his goal was reached. Even if "Winder Slide" takes twelve years, what a joyful activity to carry through the next decade!

Create the community you want

When you live in Salem, playing in an old time jam or Irish session means getting in the car and driving 30-45 minutes. Every other Thursday, I carpool to Tim Rowell's jam at the Real School of Music. Once, when sharing the car with three other old time enthusiasts from the North Shore, I suggested that we should just start our own jam at home.

And so every other Monday from 6:00 to 8:00 we sit by the new ship ribs on Derby Wharf and play music as sunny afternoons turn to dusk. Tourists and local dog walkers pass by, occasionally pausing to listen, but it feels as if we are in our own world, a bubble separating us from the people and passing time of the world outside. The "Salem Jamlet," as one of the founding members calls it, has met four times so far, and Scratch Kitchen down the road has offered to host us when the weather gets too cold for playing outside. If you live on the North Shore, come by with your instrument and play along two weeks from today!

When I moved to Salem four years ago, I would often walk down this very wharf alone and wish for community. It is amazing to see what comes from the seeds we plant in our hearts.

And the music plays on

Anyone learning fiddle knows that attending jams (or sessions, if it's Irish), is a fun way to make music a social experience, and also one of the best ways to improve one's playing. Jams are held at restaurants, bars, outdoor parks, music schools, or someone's living room and, at least in my experience, everyone is welcome. Just make sure to play on beat, keep your instrument in tune, and be nice. Some jams are led by a superstar who calls each song and performs it, while everyone else plays along. Others move democratically from one player to the next, calling upon each to lead a song of his or her choice.

As a beginner, any tune that arises at a jam that is already familiar is cause for celebration. I eagerly pick up my fiddle and play along to the best of my ability--despite the fact that the group is probably playing twice the speed at which I learned the tune. Unknown songs require great concentration and listening. I try to figure out where the song is starting, catch a phrase, or two or three, and play along with those parts as best I can. Occasionally the song is so difficult or fast that it is a futile effort and I sit back to listen, making sure to jot down the tune's name if I like it and want to learn it at home. Every time I return to a jam, I know more tunes, feel more comfortable with the speed, and see more familiar faces.

Tonight I set out for the Skellig old time jam in Waltham, to play along and listen in awe to the leader, Alan Kaufman, an old time fiddling legend, who also happens to yodel. As I parked my car in the lot adjacent to the pub, a text message arrived from a friend: "Jam cancelled. Are you coming?" Cancelled? After driving almost an hour? My heart sank.

But in the world of music, there are no bad outcomes, as long as one has an instrument and a friend. I rushed over to the pub to catch my friend and within moments we assembled a group of four friends--all eager musicians who hadn't gotten the memo about the cancelled jam. I knew just where to go and led the group down the street to a picturesque path along the river, where we stationed ourselves on a row of benches and began to tune our instruments.

We began to play and a pair of swans soon drifted over to our side of the river. An elderly couple walked past and sat down to listen, later asking us what our band was called. A little boy looked on for some time before approaching and proudly announcing that he had a violin at home. Another boy told us of his flute, which he had left at home. Two little children with red light-up shoes pranced up, parents in tow, and began dancing. We played "Over the Waterfall" for them as they jumped up and down along the walkway.

I let the music flow over me, pausing to dance about the walkway and absorb my friends' breathtaking bowing technique when the tunes became too challenging. We conversed, taught each other new tunes, and encouraged one another until daylight turned to dusk and then to darkness. Fall was in the air. Fall--a time when things start to move in our deepest souls, old life dies and retreats in preparation for new impulses to be born. Our own plan had died just hours before.... and still the music played on. I strive to make space for the music in my life to play on into the fall and winter and I know that all shall be well.

The Quickest Way to Point B

I once heard that the most efficient way to get from point A to point B in the spiritual world is hardly ever a straight line. It seems that the path to all good things takes its inexplicable turns and meanders through territory that one may consider useless. And in retrospect, we realize that this may have been the only path that could have led us to the promised land that we did not even realize was awaiting us. And so began my journey with the fiddle on the eve of my 27th birthday.

In fact, my journey started with a mandolin. After completing my graduate coursework last summer, I decided that I must continue to be a student in some regard; to allow myself to look foolish being a complete beginner, while taking joy in each baby step towards competency. In fact, there are few delights in this world that bring more inspiring energy than that of being a beginner. Thus, after consulting a few friends and honing in a variety of You Tube instrumental clips, I found my way onto Craigslist, where I purchased a used mandolin.

Over the following year, this little eight-stringed instrument changed my life, introducing me to Old Time and Irish fiddle tunes, Bluegrass and Old Time jams, music camps, workshops, festivals, and many new music friends. I discovered that anytime I left the house with the mandolin, a new music friend would appear at my side, as if by magic, always with a new song to teach, a word of encouragement, or chords to back up the tune I was plucking.

At Old Time jams and Irish sessions, I began to find myself focusing with awe on the fiddlers, envious of the beautiful singing quality of their tone. My new mandolin friends told me to specialize. Pick one style, learn all the tricks, and get to be good at it. Yet, this didn't make sense. Music is for me! I will never become a virtuoso--this is my personal delight, so why not follow my own joy? So, I returned to classifieds of Craigslist, where the world seems to have no limit. The next day, I handed over $220 in crumpled cash in exchange for a Czech-made student violin, which I named Firebird on the drive home. I have had Firebird for a month now, and she has hardly left my hands. My meandering entry into old time music has brought me to my destination: The fiddle

This blog is about my journey with traditional fiddle music. It is about being a beginner, plunging into a new world, and savoring the delights that splash up upon impact.

Please feel free to leave comments and share morsels from your own musical journey!