A crahinin exercises.
From Joseph MacDonald.
NB - “Crahinin” is the proper term for what we call today “echo beats”. I’m not sure why we stopped calling them that: we are certainly able to retain other terms, such as taorludh and crunludh. Why not “crahinin”?
One more thing - notice the rhythms. They are not as we play them today.
And a third thing - see the low As? These are hiharins - a species of crahinin. They are not birls. Birls are a later rhythmic abomination, probably brought in from light music. Stop playing birls. They are terrible misunderstandings of the music. Aberrations, really.
But the first note is dotted! If we play it his way, we risk it sounding, in the words of Andrew Wright in his recent book, “Flippant”. :)
‘we risk it sounding, in the words of Andrew Wright in his recent book, “Flippant”.’
Shudder!!!
I play the music as it comes. I don’t believe in rules.
This is a conundrum I first encountered upon seeing Joseph MacDonald’s Treatise around 1964, and in particular his setting of ‘Lament for Donald of Laggan’, of which he recorded a couple of bars. It begins with a Crahinin, not a ‘hiharin’ or birl; and I pointed this out to my teacher at the time, Malcolm MacPherson, who was horrified: ‘Change Nothing!’ he exclaimed.
From this, and other evidence, including Andrew Wright’s deposition, I suspect that the birl interpretation of ‘hiharin’ is a long-standing one, possibly arising from a musical fashion which gained popularity and supplanted Joseph’s ‘Crahinin’, if indeed it was not already used but not recorded by him.
The Nether Lorne MS is full of tunes which contain this motif and are written as Joseph recorded it; eg. ‘ Ho ro do, che re de, hi ri ri’ etc. Yet interpreters of tunes containing this usually play the motif in the style of the ‘double echo’. Some profess to find the dotted first note unmusical.
I have tried to learn a number of tunes from the Nether Lorne which feature this motif, and find that the two are more or less interchangeable; sometimes I slide from one to the other unconsciously.
I wonder if a subtle but profound change in musical taste has taken place here, analogous to one in language, where one sound is replaced by another (eg. ‘P’ Celtic and ‘Q’ Celtic)? Possibly, this means that two distinct styles of piobroch playing will emerge: the traditional way, and one based on revival of the Crahinin, as recorded by Joseph MacDonald, and in The Nether Lorne MS? Certainly, there seems to be a musical divide over this issue, and a degree of intolerance stirred up at times.
The ‘crahinin’ died, most probably because the style changed and they ignored the implications of the word. I wrote about these in my thesis. I think General Thomason may have brought the term into pibroch terminology. There is no evidence of the birls being played as today until 20thC. ‘Flippant’ is an inappropriate term that means nothing in music and rests more on ignorance of rhythms in melody - not the fault of the modern player but of an aberrant belief system. The ‘traditional’ way is the one that is notated by Joseph MacDonald where ‘trado’ means to ‘hand on’ - in an oral tradition here. Angus MacKay can be interpreted in the same manner - but not by the brainwashed heads of the modern pibroch player. (This is no surprise as it happens in music cultures everywhere.) The modern mainstream makes no sense. For the most part, it is a mere soundscape (therapeutic for those who have no connection with its roots) eg “So wonderful I nearly fell asleep” - quote from a regular member of the audience, Blair Castle 1990s….. Yes, a less than subtle and profound change has occurred - from a natural progression to a controlled one. That is where the analogy with P and Q Celtic falls, I fear. Oh, ‘a dotted first note unmusical’ actually means nothing when using ‘language’ to refer to ‘music’ - since ‘context’ can be the only relevance….
Imagine the howls from the initiated when I played the crahinin instead of the birl in “The Piper’s Warning” in competition back in the late ’90’s after attending Ailean’s class at Ceolas in 1996. But now Faye Henderson can be heard playing it in a prestigious competition here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Qd63jGY-eSU
So Ailean is having some profound influence on the way pipers play today. Now, if they could only throw off the rest of the straightjacket.
The birl is a 20th century invention, called a “nasty Glasgow habit” some old timers back in the day.
Birls can be seen in piobaireach manuscripts from the early 19th century, and my feeling is that there were several ways of playing it then, which have collapsed into the more uniform style of today.
One cannot assume that the absence of evidence is always evidence of absence; while Joseph MacDonald did not record a ‘birl’, its presence in both Donald MacDonald’s collections and in the Ballindalloch Ms, not to mention Angus MacKay, shows that it was employed at an early date, and could have been around even earlier.
If Donald was playing a birl in 1820, it is likely he was following the teaching he had received as a boy in Glen Hinisdale, Trotternish, Isle of Skye, where he was born. It can also be assumed his teacher probably played in a similar manner, which takes this motif back into the 18th century, and locates it in the region where the MacArthur family were pipers to MacDonald at Duntulm Castle.
What strengthens my suspicion about its early use in piobaireachd is a guitar compositon by Tobias Hume for the young James 6th, composed around 1600, called ‘In the Spanish Manner’. It contains a number of strumming riffs very like the birl as played today. What this piece shows is a) that Spanish music was in vogue in the highest social circuits, and b) that this motif – the birl – was considered a marker of Spanish style, and a musically expressive one. Anyone familiar with Flamenco guitar playing will acknowledge that.
Although speculative, it is not too much of a leap to suppose that pipers of the 17th century might have employed it as well. After all, Chieftains such as MacLeod of Dunvegan drank copious amounts of French and Spanish wine which they got straight from those countries, bypassing the King’s attempts to make money by taxing such imports, so it might be expected that the occasional performance of Spanish music also took place. But, sadly, as the song by Rory Dall tells us, ‘Chunna mi uair dun flathail nan cuaich a’ thraigh’ ( I saw when the Castle of partying and drinking ebbed away).
DMcD’ s ‘MacDonald’s Warning (Cholla Mo Run)’ provides an unequivocal illustration of a birl at the end of each line:
http://www.piobaireachd.co.uk/wp-content/uploads/2012/04/tune20.pdf
There is also what looks like a ‘crahinin’ motif in the urlar, on B, disguised with a grip.
http://www.piobaireachd.co.uk/wp-content/uploads/2015/12/8-Ballindalloch-MS-Donald-McDonell-of-Laggans-Lament.pdf In this setting, a ‘birl’ is clearly shown at the beginning of the tune.
http://www.piobaireachd.co.uk/wp-content/uploads/2012/02/Donald-MacDonald-V1-Lord-Breadalbanes-March.pdf Here, we see a crahinin – type motif where a birl is played today.
http://www.piobaireachd.co.uk/wp-content/uploads/2012/02/Donald-MacDonald-V1-Lament-on-the-Death-of-Patrick-Mor-McCruimen.pdf At the end of line one in the urlar is a crahinin, instead of the birl of today.
http://www.piobaireachd.co.uk/wp-content/uploads/2012/04/tune08.pdf (Castle Menzies)
This setting begins with a birl.
This one bit of evidence absolutely sealed the deal for me:
Clearly, the rhythm of the low-A crahinin was meant to support to the tune lyrics (we’ll set aside the fact that Angus added an additional syllable to support his personal stylistic element of the held E cadence.)
Done. No birl. Rhythmic crahinin.
If you look at the whole of the urlar of ‘Bodaich nam Briogais’, it can be seen that Angus has eschewed the crahinin through out, substituting the modern ‘double echo’ in its place on F, E, D, and B, as well as the birl in bar one. If one assumes the tune was originally played with the crahinin pointed as Joseph MacDonald recorded it - HE re RE , CHE re RE, HA ra RA, etc.- then the question arises: why change it so it no longer fits the rhythm of the words?
One explanation might be that the words belong to a parallel song, and have been tacked on.
The pibroch itself has, in this light, been re-cast at some point, in the words of Glenn Gould, ‘to make it new.’ In other word, this is an embellished and improved version of a familiar air, in a taste approved by two of the most eminent pipers of the era - Angus MacKay and his father, who presumably taught him this, or at least was not at odds with it, since Angus is on record as seeking his father’s approval of additions he made to other pieces (Lament for Colin Roy, The Big Spree).
This observation seems to reinforce the proposition that the ‘birl’, which Angus writes in the same place as Colin Campbell wrote ‘Hiharin’ in the shared tunes they both recorded, is not modern but a tasteful flourish of some antiquity. With this pedigree, labelling it ‘aberrant’, ‘modern’ and ‘nasty’ seems unduly judgemental
Well, perhaps I was a bit judgmental in my rhetoric.
Nevertheless, I am not entirely convinced by your argumentation. That Angus MacKay (and his father before him) seem to have favored and standardized upon a particular style of crahinin (which is the precursor to today’s double-beat), that does not necessarily mean the hiharin is a birl for him. It may be. It may set the stage to becoming one. But it is interesting that he attempts to align the words rhythmically, which suggests otherwise.
More important is the fact that Joseph and Donald MacDonald and Peter Ried (and possibly others) handle crahinins (including hiharins) differently that the MacKays did.
Even more important, from by point of view, is that these differing rhythms lend opportunities for the performer to explore the musical terrain of the urlar, far moreso than today’s current standardized style which often seems at complete odds with the melody line.
Duncan Ban MacIntyre’s famous song, ‘In Praise of Ben Dorainn’, composed in the 18th century, was cast in the style of a pibroch, with the first part being called the ‘urlar’.
It begins ‘An t-urram tha gach bheinn aig Beinn Dorainn…’
If one says the first two words, ‘An t-urram’, and rolls the r’s, the effect is very like a birl; it might even be onomatopoeia, a deliberate imitation of the sound.
Was this Dunnacha Bhan’s acknowledgement of the ‘Hiharin’ as a grandiose entry into a melody?
I have been contemplating this series of posts while trying to remember unsuccessfully from whom I first acquired the information regarding the origin of the ‘birl’. Which was that the name (and modern interpretation) was probably a cross over with the Lowland Pipers who in common with other musicians playing for dancing would emphasis the point at which the dancers would ‘birl’ or spin their partners during the dance. Hence the name being adopted by the pipers for a technical movement.
Much is made of how the written music should be interpreted without considering the total picture, or rather sound when actually played on a pipe of similar vintage. For example in conversation the late Roddy Cannon thought that most of Donald MacDonald’s settings leaned towards the bottom hand which also blended well with the nature of the chanters he made. Which came first though is probably the piping equivalent to the chicken or egg question.
Certainly as also touched on by Andreas in another site the nature of the chanter would also influence the playing style. Even over a relatively short period chanters have changed. The size of the chanter in general and the finger holes in particular between the original chanter on my circa 1920’s Lawries and the ‘modern’ (for me), Kilgour which I bought when Glens closed and no more could I get the old reeds young Andrew used to produce from somewhere in the bowels below the shop. In comparison the finger holes on the Lawrie are like open manholes and when played unlike the Kilgour literally throbbed in ones fingers.
But returning to the much quoted Joseph MacDonald and looking at the whole picture, including what we simply do not know. With fixed drones the only variable harmonic contrasts which are available are those between the individual note of the chanter when sounding against those drones. Therefore depending upon the ‘Taste’ of the piece that effect can be to a degree altered by increasing or reducing the duration that note actually sounds.
So far so good, but a question which I have long considered and occasionally raised is what effect after circa 1822 , did the discouraging of two drone pipes have? Playing styles which worked when the chanter notes only had to sound against two tenor drones may well have had to become ‘heavier’ when played against the additional bass drone. This in turn brings us back to consideration of Joseph MacDonald’s work.
There are some conclusions which it is possible to draw regarding his piping background along with some unanswered questions. We know that the ‘treatise’ was written during his journey to India. We also know that he did not have a practice chanter because to carry out the work he had to have some made for him on route. Therefore it was written from the aspect of being worked out on a practice chanter and not checked against a full set of pipes. We have no way of knowing if Joseph learned on a two or three drone set of pipes. He did not actually own his own set until he reached India.
The set of three drone pipes shown in his self portrait, like the highland dress were sent out for him by what his brother Patrick described as a well wisher in London, (possibly Major Clephane who was a friend of the family). Which in turn raises the question of where that set/pattern of pipes was actually made? It is also rarely appreciated that Joseph would never have worn highland dress before reaching India as the banning act was still in force. That he could do so in India was because he counted as an officer in the India Company hence exempt from the act like all the military.
But to the point or rather questions. Did the difference in sound levels between two or three drones make any difference to playing style? If so, was Josephs style which would come from whichever instrument he was taught on related to a two or three drone instrument?
Keith’s argument reminds me fondly of the discussions entered into by historians of rhetoric during the 80s and 90s. Lots of theoretical and literary sources were engaged with, commented upon, argued over. Thrilling insights into the argumentation and persuasion were developed and shared.
Then, archaeologically-based rhetorical scholars began asking basic questions of acoustics: how well could an orator actually be heard in the agora? in the outdoor amphitheater where the demos met? Astonishingly, it seemed that most of the great oratories of ancient Greece couldn’t actually be heard by anyone but a few folks sitting a few feet away. All these great didactic rules of composition and persuasion by the great oratorical schools seemed to have been almost completely irrelevant in light of it.
I guess that’s why Demosthenes wrote and published his speeches.
As Keith’s questions remind us: we mustn’t divorce the physical from the theoretical.