New Year’s Eve and a Bodhran
[A slightly edited version of this article appears in the February issue of the Stanislaus Connections]
On New Year’s Eve I was at home in my still not-completely-unpacked apartment. I was watching Alfred Hitchcock’s Secret Agent on my computer with a cat on my lap. A good movie and a warm cat in somewhat drafty apartment can give the most intrepid seeker of new musical experiences second thoughts about venturing into the night, no matter what night of the year it is.
I had accepted an invitation to play mandolin and join in the fun at the monthly Contra Dance in Sonora at Aronos Hall, so I felt obligated to go. Still I could not find a way out of the doldrums. Nothing seemed worth doing except sitting in my apartment with my cat and a movie.
In a moment of action I shook off the enervation. Callie, whose name is short for Calliope, Califia, Calaban, or Calico depending upon her mood, felt the sting of cool air on her paws as I simply got up out of my chair and deposited her unceremoniously on the floor. At the moment she landed, I would bet her mood shifted to Califia, dark Queen of the mythological island of California. If she could speak she would have said, “We are not amused” or maybe, “Off with his head.”
Sometimes it is best not to think but to do. Without actually deciding, I just got up, grabbed my mandolins, and walked out the door. The fifty-mile drive from Modesto to Sonora provided ample time for reflection on my situation, my future, and my past. None of my conclusions are worth mentioning here. I have forgotten them. But I do remember what I did that night.
I arrived a little late, but no one seemed to mind. My instrument cases announced my intention to join the band, and I quickly found Steve near the center of the action on the stage, with a London cabbie’s hat on his head and a fiddle under his chin. He gestured for me to join him, so I entered the hall and quickly ensconced myself among my fellow musicians.
The band was pretty big by American traditional folk music standards, consisting three fiddle players, two mandolin players (including yours truly), two bodhran players, a flute player, a harmonica player, a guitar player and a banjo player.
(A bodhran is a Celtic drum with a single head usually about 12” to 14” in diameter. Right handed players rest the edge of the bodhran on their left knee in a seated position, manipulate the tone of the drum with their left hands, and strike the head of the drum with various beaters held in their right hands. It is a very expressive instrument when played well. But playing it well is much more difficult than it looks. The techniques used to strike the drum are difficult to master. Thus bad bodhran players abound, and the bodhran has become the subject of nearly as many jokes as the banjo. It does not help that the proper pronunciation of bodhran rhymes with moron.)
The instrumental content was definitely a liberal mix of Celtic musicians and what is known among players of other traditional American folk music as “Old Timey.” For me this was a treat. I got to learn some more about playing Celtic music while using some of my current repertoire. Indeed I discovered that Old Timey and Celtic music use the same tune structure: everyone plays the melody in unison usually three times through a 32 bar tune.
Playing mandolin affords me the luxury of 1) helping with the melody when I know it or can reasonably mimic it in time or 2) playing chords in support of the melody. I did plenty of both but was happiest playing along with the melody. Dancers like the tempos on the quick side, and some of those tunes take some skill. So playing them for dancers was excellent practice.
Dances were directed by “callers.” These were folks who named the dance, explained the movements, led all of the dances through a practice round, and then shepherded the dancers through the first few sets of steps. From the stage, the dances looked fun and tended to create interesting visual patterns. I tried taking photos of the dancers with my cell phone, but still images cannot convey the sometimes kaleidoscopic effect of the coordinated movements of more than two dozen people. Instead the photos make the whole process look confused and sloppy rather than coordinated and fairly precise.
The event ran from 8pm to just after midnight. We saw the New Year in with balloon popping, some hooting and hollering, followed by a very folky rendition of “Auld Lang Syne.”
Most of the musicians and callers had decided continue their celebrations past the time that the hall was available. So we relocated to a private home in Sonora. In the new location, more traditional forms of New Year’s celebration aids appeared (alcohol was not allowed in Aronos Hall) and instrument cases opened once again to reveal their contents. We played music long into the night passing around the opportunity to call a tune. But it was more party than jam, and at 2 in the morning my fatigue level indicated it was time to roll back down the hill.
Singing is an excellent way of staying awake on the road. But make sure the songs you pick are songs you know well. Choose music you loved as teenager, stuff that calls up times and places you remember fondly. Your mind will stay engaged and your eyes will stay open. I listened and sang to Dan Fogelberg’s Souvenirs and Donald Fagen’s The Night Fly. They kept me engaged the whole way home and staved off droopy eyelids.
I returned to her majesty’s kingdom at about 3:30 in the morning, though at that time of night/morning Callie is more Calico than Califia. She was curled up in the chair we had been sharing before I so abruptly departed. I greeted my furry flat-mate, dropped my instrument cases inside the door, locked it behind me, and hit the bed feeling utterly exhausted and satisfied with another evening’s musical adventure.
