Music, Music, Music……

In Chattahoochee High School I played clarinet, sitting usually as first chair in the second section. I was somewhat shy, and I got to sit every day next to Julie, who was a beautiful brunette. Then the band director put me up to the first clarinet section, but after a day I deliberately missed some octave jumps in my solo so that he would put me back next to Julie.

I thought I played clarinet well until I got to college and met some folks who really knew how. If I had persisted I might have been written up by the music critic that wrote “Nathan Jones played Gershwin last night in concert. Gershwin lost”. I suspect that the soloist tried one of Gershwin’s glissandos, maybe the one from Rhapsody in Blue. If that was so, I can understand his failure and the critic’s comment.

To play a clarinet takes ten fingers, with nine pushing a multitude of keys or covering holes, and one thumb holding the instrument. A trumpet has three valves, takes just three fingers and collects a lot of spit. The only instrument easier than a trumpet is the trombone, which has no keys or valves, just a lot of plumbing. The trombone in medieval Europe was called a “sackbut”. That should be a good reason not to play such a convoluted instrument. I suspect that it was originally spelled “sackbutt “, but the sackbut lobby prevailed and had the last “t” dropped.

There are more wind instruments out there. The oboe is much like the clarinet and is known as “the ill wind that nobody blows good”. Bassoons are double reed instruments that are fingered like oboes but are much larger and appear to be made from PVC pipe left over from a plumbing job. A contrabassoon is bigger, uglier and plays low notes. It needs more fingers than a normal person has.

Of course you cannot mention music here in Jackson County without bringing Royce Reagan up. Royce has a television program called Chipola Speaks. It should be called “Royce Speaks”. It is an “interview” format, and I use the quotation marks because as soon as he introduces the visitor, he takes over the conversation and thirty minutes later the guest has only had time to state his name, rank and serial number. A visiting guitarist recently was standing with one foot on a chair, poised to strike a few chords on his Gibson, when Royce began talking. When the program was over the guest needed help getting his foot off the chair, and his fingers were still poised to strike his first chord.

Three years ago my grandson Stuart, who played trumpet in his school band, visited me. We drove over to Chipola and I left him in the car while I attended a quick meeting. Royce asked me about the young fellow and I told him about the boy’s trumpet playing. Royce left before I did, and when I reached my car Stuart had a quizzical look on his face. Royce had approached him and told him that he could tell just by looking at him that he was a trumpet player. It was a good joke, and I imagine that Stuart is still telling about the wonderful man in Marianna that could look at you and determine what kind of instrument you played.

I had a strong desire some years ago while on active duty in the United States Navy to purchase some bagpipes and learn to play them. If one stays away from real pipers there should be no complaints with the way a novice plays. Who but an expert will know if you make a mistake? I have heard some pipes music that sounded like it was all mistakes. Bagpipes are played in many places in the world, but chiefly among the Scots and the Irish. No wonder the Scots are such fierce warriors. I had rather fight ten men armed to the teeth than to hear one bad piper. Bagpipes, in a slightly different form, have been in India for centuries. They were probably there when Alexander the Great invaded. For some reason he paused. History tells us that this is where he wept because he had no more worlds to conquer. I suspect he heard his first bagpipes and decided it was time to go home, where there were only a few stringed instruments and Pan pipes, which do not have bags connected to them and you don’t need fingers. On second thought, do you remember Zamfir, who marketed recordings of his Pan pipes on television? Maybe Alexander went from the frying pan into the fire. No wonder he died shortly after returning home.

I am drifting a bit, but I have been thinking about my goals for the next ten years and I see no reason not to learn to play this instrument. I will have to order it, or them. So how do I do that? Do I ask for “a bagpipe” or for “some bagpipes”? I don’t want to get more than I can handle. I am reminded of the zookeeper in a small Tennessee town that decided a mongoose, the animal that can fight a cobra to the death, would be an attraction. He wrote a letter to an animal supply house, but decided he needed a pair so they could propagate and be more commercially profitable. So he wrote “Dear sir: please send me two mongooses”. This did not look quite right so he crossed it out and wrote “send me two mongeese”, and that did not look right either, so he wrote “send me a mongoose, and while you are at it send me another one”.

If I play the pipes, will I have to wear a kilt? The Hirts are of Germanic origin, and they wear lederhosen. I don’t think a kilt is appropriate for me. I could fake it, but which clan should I claim? I was in the Chipola River Book and Tea Shop recently and my friend Michael is selling authentic tartan neckties. I checked them out but I am not attracted to any of them. If I can get by without wearing kilts, then I will. I have rather knobby knees and a strange scattering of hair on my calves that could be caused by something like male pattern baldness, but I suspect that it is because I have worn boots for too long. And, as an aside, bagpipe music is called “skirling”, which is also defined as a “shrieking noise”. Doesn’t that excite you?

Another problem has popped up. Sneads now has an anti-noise ordinance. A piper has no defense against this. His music is all noise. The ordinance is only enforceable against places that sell alcoholic beverages, though, and I only sell strong drink to my former shipmates that stop by for a visit, so I am probably safe.

Some years ago a man named Boudreau, from Pittsburgh, talked some large companies up there into constructing a self propelled barge that opened up into a bandshell. He was a river pilot and was also the conductor of the American Wind Symphony Orchestra. Each year he would embark the Orchestra and set out down the Mississippi River, presenting concerts as they went to small and large cities. Twice they came up the Apalachicola River to Chattahoochee, and gave us rednecks a taste of excellent classical music. Of course age overtook both the barge and the maestro, and I have no idea what happened after that. But wouldn’t an orchestra on a barge, playing to everyone, be a great idea for our wonderful tri rivers system?

And there is a fair chance that there may soon be an accomplished bagpiper in the area, ready and willing to skirl away!