The fiddle world of Alasdair Fraser

“Let me open the gates and let you into my fiddle world...”  

That was Alasdair Fraser last week in Benbecula, for the University of the Highlands and Islands' symposium and workshop on Scottish fiddle music. Alasdair shared with us a world of multilingualism and diversity through the sound of the fiddle, which has the capacity for a plurality of voices - a mouth piece of many communities each speaking in their native language. The story of the fiddle is also one of travel, emigration and cultural exchange. At the concert in the evening, Alasdair and Natalie took us on a journey which crossed oceans and traversed languages, with the tune Highlander's Farewell to Ireland beginning as a an old, Highland strathspey, which crosses over to Ireland and becomes a reel (Farewell to Ireland), and then ends up in the Appalachian mountains (Highlander's Farwell). As Natalie and Alasdair brought together these different styles, we heard the meeting of cultures and the conversation between peoples, as the music took on the characteristics of the places and cultures it has encountered along its journey.

Natalie Haas, Sophie Stephenson and Alasdair Fraser. Benbecula, Scotland (May 2013).

    At the fiddle workshop, Alasdair encouraged us to find our voice, and to not be ashamed to “speak” (play) in our mother tongue – our local dialect. Using this linguistic metaphor to express character, style and individualism in fiddle music, he expressed the importance of having confidence, pride and a sense of worth in our own culture, our language and in the voice of our nation. Alasdair himself has had a large part to play in bringing Scottish fiddle music to people in Scotland, America and across the globe. With fiddle schools in California and at Sabhal Mòr Ostaig on Skye, now in their third decade and attracting ever growing numbers of fiddlers and cellists, Alasdair has had a considerable influence in the resurgence of fiddle music, which accounts for the strength and vibrancy of the traditional music scene today.

    When I first met Alasdair Fraser and Natalie Haas it was at their fiddle and cello summer school on the Isle of Skye. Alasdair was explaining to the group of fiddlers how playing style and technique goes hand in hand with dance. He asked if anyone amongst us was a Highland dancer, and before I knew it, he had me up on my feet and doing the Highland Fling to thetune 'Devil in the Kitchen'. Then, discovering I could also step-dance, he played the same strathspey, but this time, instead of the slow and pointed fashion suited to Highland dancing, he played it rounder and up-tempo in a Cape Breton style, for me to step-dance. Despite the fact that I had been part of the tradition for some years, Alasdair was the first person to really make me aware of the different ways tunes have evolved. My eyes and ears were opened to the various dance traditions in Scotland which, despite sharing a common repertoire, dictated very different approaches to voice and style in music.

Alasdair Fraser Fiddle School at Sabhal Mòr Ostaig, Isle of Skye, (July 2010)

Sabhal Mòr Ostaig, Isle of Skye, (July 2010)

    Last week, I caught up with Alasdair for a chat about the relationship between dancer and musician and his top tips for keeping dancers on their feet. We discussed how jigs, strathspeys, reels, waltzes, which make up a big part of the repertoire of Scottish fiddle music, are essentially dance tunes, or tunes for dancing to, and how important is it that musicians have an awareness of the dance traditions in Scotland when they are learning the tunes. We also discussed his own journey in the world of Scottish fiddle music and he reflected of the sense of oneness which can be created as the bow of the fiddler engages with the feet of dancers and they resonate together. You can listen to the interview below.

“When I look at our music – any music – one of the first things I think about is 'how would people move to this?' […] When you get into jigs, reels, the hornpipe, strathspeys, the scottiche, the Highland fling – and all the different ways that we dance in Scotland – those movements have evolved along with the style of the music and they inform the fiddler's bow arm. So, to play a dance tune without ever having seen how people are supposed to move to it, is to cut off a major artery into your music […] To answer that question 'how do I bow this?' I go to the dance floor. And there, right there, are many answers - the dancers are telling you how to bow it. They are telling you that they will respond in a certain way if you give them what they need. And, in order to give them what they need, you need to start bowing in a certain way […] In many cases there is a one to one correspondence between the fiddler's bow arm and the dancers' feet, so you almost feel like a choreographer. If you are bowing and the whole ballroom is moving to your bow, it is one of the great highs of playing traditional music”  - Alasdair Fraser (2013).

Here is a video of Nic Gareiss dancing with Alasdair at his camp Valley of the Moon in California. 

    This left me thinking: as the function of the music changes from music for dancing to music for listening, do the dance traditions themselves have any relevance in this new context? Perhaps, as Alasdair and Natalie unveil their inner groove on the music, and let their bows be driven by creativity of rhythm and spontaneity of improvisation, perhaps this calls for dance forms which too are free from any constraints and embrace, full heartedly, creativity of sound, movement and rhythm?

    One man who is leading the way in this endeavour is foot percussion sensation Nic Gareiss from America. Look out for my next blog post where you will be able to hear more about Nic and his recent collaboration with the Campbells of Greepe. Also an interview with Mary Ann Kennedy and Nic Gareiss discussing the relationship between language, song and dance.