Dear Rob, Absolutely brilliant! Nice for you to pop by. You really should write a book about your gigs. They are hilariously funny, and so true to life.
Many subscribers to this List will have missed your Gig from Hell story, either because they were not subscribers at the time, or because you sent it to the Baroque Lute List, rather than to the main list. You sent it over five years ago, on 17th July 1999. It really is a classic, one of the funniest messages I've had the pleasure of reading on this list, so I reproduce it for everyone below: [NB One extremely rude word is essential to portray the incongruity of the situation, yet Wayne's Spam filter blocked it, when I tried posting this message to the list yesterday. The rude word began with "f", was followed by the 5th vowel, then two different consonants sounding the same, and finally "-in" (without "g"). To by-pass Wayne's filter I have replaced the rude word with "ffffff". Like Rob, I hope no-one will be offended by its exceptional use here.] -o-O-o- While we are on the subject of the Balcarres MS, I thought I would entertain you all with a tale from present day Scotland, and what it is like to play Scottish lute music here. I recently played a gig at Methil Community Centre. Methil is the coal village surrounding Wemyss Castle, which is still occupied by the Wemyss family. The Wemyss family owned the mines before they were nationalised. I once phoned the head of the family and told them of their ancestor's lute manuscript - which, incredibly, they did not know about - and asked if I could come to the castle and play the music to the family. I was told that they were 'not the slightest bit interested' ! This should have warned of what was to come... The coal industry has left Methil, and the village has suffered high unemployment and its attendant miseries. It is a very rough neighbourhood indeed. The Wemyss family still run a feudal society, with the local council paying feu duty the family. They own all the land around. They are not at all liked by the miners families, in fact it is fair to say that they are hated - not too strong a word in this context. Along comes Rob MacKillop, financed by 'Arts in Fife', a government institution, to play Scottish lute music, mainly from Fife - Balcarres and Wemyss... Luckily I don't play from a printed program, preferring instead to play it by ear and announce pieces as I feel like playing them. Over the years I have built up a reservoir of Scottish lute and 'guittar' pieces to choose from. So it came as a great surprise to audience (which was in single figures) to hear me announce music from the Wemyss manuscript. There was a rumble of discontent as I related the story about young Margaret Wemyss who wrote the manuscript down between the ages of 11 and 18. Suddenly one man stood up and shouted 'If you play any ffffff music by they bastards, I'll kick your ffffff head in!', which kind of stopped me in my tracks! Well I'm six foot three and come from a rough, poor neighborhood myself, so I replied 'If you don't sit down and shut up, I'll kick your ffffff head in!', which kind of stopped him in his tracks. The music was heard in total silence, followed by no applause. There is no such thing as early music here, music from another time and, usually, place. This stuff is as alive as it ever was. I don't think I will be invited back... (Please don't start a flame war about the swear words). Rob -- Rob MacKillop Homepage: http://www.sol.co.uk/r/rennimackillop 11 Joppa Terrace Edinburgh EH15 2HY Scotland -o-O-o- I just hope we don't have to wait another five years before we get another. :-) All the best, Stewart. ----- Original Message ----- From: "Red Blues" <[EMAIL PROTECTED]> To: <[EMAIL PROTECTED]> Sent: Thursday, September 02, 2004 7:05 PM Subject: A Wemyss Tale > > Just thought I'd pop by to donate the following: > > A Wemyss Tale by Rob MacKillop > > Some of you will recall my 'Gig From Hell' experience of playing music from > the Wemyss manuscript to local louts near the Wemyss Estate. Last night I > had another fraught, yet amusing, experience - this time from the other side > of the great divide: I performed inside Wemyss Castle itself. > > About five years ago I contacted the Estate with the idea of performing > music from the Wemyss ms in the environment it was compiled in, only to be > told, quite incredulously, that 'we are not interested'. Last night I > entered from the back door, as it were. The Architectural Historian for > Dundee University, Dr Charles McKean, had organised an international > symposium for architectural historians from Spain, Italy, France, The > Netherlands and England - about twenty-five academics in total. Over five > days they visited a number of important landmarks all over Scotland. Last > night they landed for dinner (after a brief trip to the nearby Balcarres > House) in Wemyss Castle, and I was invited to perform. > > Now, I have always known, deep in the core of my being, that I am of > ancient, very ancient, aristocratic stock - a fact clearly indicated by my > complete aversion to any form of physical labour. I have no proof, of > course, other than this profound aversion, and my family history seems to > relate that we have always been bound to the common stock, yet my revulsion > of 'work' (such a distasteful word, even to write) is proof enough that I > have aristocratic blood moving somewhat sluggishly through my veins. It was > with these thoughts in mind that I approached the door to the castle to > greet Lord Wemyss as a long-lost brother. > > Unfortunately, due to my arriving an hour early (wishing to spend some time > exploring the place) I was greeted by Lady Wemyss in her bath robe. She > looked at me with great disdain, which only increased when I informed her > that I was the musician for the evening. She dismissed me with a slight but > powerful wave of the hand, as the door closed in my face. As I was > contemplating what to do next, the door opened and Lord Wemyss invited me > in. I was given a Masterclass in how to treat the hoc genus omni. I shall > probably never master the disdainful mien and dismissive hand waving of Lady > Wemyss (such an expert!), but I hope one day to be able to pass myself off > as a Lord of the Manor in the style of Lord Wemyss. I carefully observed the > following techniques: Never look at the person you are talking to. Look > either at the ceiling or sky, or for more intimate moments, or for special > emphasis, look over the persons right shoulder (do not hold this pose for > long, lest it is misinterpreted as acknowledgement of a degree of social > intercourse). Also, never be accurate with facts, especially when discussing > family history or the family's portraiture. And if the plebian dares to > 'correct' you in any way, smile graciously whilst waving one's hand (in the > manner of a Lady Wemyss). > > After this short Masterclass, I was urged to visit the walled garden with > the assurance that I would like it there. This was a cleverly designed way > of getting me out of the house, as the garden was some few hundred yards > away, across the open grounds. I enquired about dogs (I have a great fear, > indeed phobia, regarding our canine friends), only to be told that, 'If one > attacks you, just bonk it on the nose! You'll be alright (hand wave)'. Half > way across the open ground, my fear got the better of me and I returned to > my car. As I was opening the door, the dogs were released - four gigantic > beasts which would have scared off even Sherlock Holmes - and I scrambled > into the car as the beasts barked their heads off, saliva dripping onto the > door handles... > > After some moments, another car appeared and the dogs were called off. I was > invited into the castle to prepare for my concert. There are two parts to > Wemyss Castle. Lady Margaret, compiler of the manuscript, lived in the old > part. Shortly after her early death (aged 17/18) the Royal Architect, Sir > Robert Milne, was commissioned to double the size of the place with a > somewhat incongruous, but beautiful and grand, extension. He had been a > friend of the family during Margaret's lifetime, and there is a beautiful > piece in her ms entitled 'Lilt - Milne'. I recorded it (a little too fast > for my present liking) on my CD, 'Flowers of the Forest' (Greentrax CDTRAX > 155). It has an unusual melody, soaring over two octaves, which I now > imagine, somewhat fancifully maybe, to have some kind of architectural > association. Thankfully I was left on my own, so I wandered into the old > part of the castle (itself rebuilt after Edward I burnt down the original) > and performed as much music from the ms as I could remember. Just me and > Lady Margaret. Perfect. > > The guests finally arrived. I had been booked to give three ten-minute > spots, where the guests would listen in silence as I performed and spoke > about the ms. This turned into two ten-minute background spots as the guests > spoke as loud as they could, naturally enthusing about the architecture. > Finally (between the main course and the dessert) silence descended and I > was able to perform four pieces: Lady Lie Neir Me, Lilt-Milne (inside > Milne's dining room), Lady Binnis Lilt (the architects are visiting The > House of the Binnis later today - another large estate) and General Leslies > Goodnight (another character piece with Wemyss associations). Much applause. > 'Release the hounds!'... > > I raced back to my car and just managed to get in before one very large > guard dog with yellow, saliva-dripping fangs, sank its teeth into the paint > work. My sense of relief was short lived as I soon realised I had left the > keys in the lock on the outside of the car! After some fraught moments, I > came up with a brilliant master plan, which did in fact work: I opened the > door on the other side of the car, and as the beast ran round, I quickly > closed it, opened the driver door and grabbed the keys. Ha ha! Now I had the > upper hand. I revved the engine as loud as I could, put the lights on full > blast and chased that damn beast all around the open ground. I was revving > and yelling like a demented mad man, when all of a sudden the ghost of the > young Lady Margaret appeared in a purple light (I swear it is true) and > motioned me with a deft wave of her hand, to calm down and get off her > property. > > I made the 30-mile trip home with the sound of Milne's Lilt echoing around > my weary brain. > > Rob MacKillop > 2 September 2004 > > Replies to [EMAIL PROTECTED]
