Mo Dhaghaigh (My Home)

Mo Dhaghaigh (My Home)

Bruce Maskell sees grandeur in his home.  He’s been a photographer in the Pacific Northwest of the United States for more than 30 years, and he’s lived there more than 50.  But rather than letting the place he’s lived all his life blur as common and familiar in his vision, he focuses through his camera lenses on the magnificent images, shapes, shades, and contours that surround him.  He opens his eyes to all that.  I find his talent and skill motivating and instructive.  You can see some of his work in the video linked below, and at Bruce Maskell Photography.

For this video’s soundtrack I played Mo Dhaghaigh, Scottish Gàidhlig for, “My Home,” on the Highland bagpipes.  I stuck as closely as I was able to the melody and harmony scores from the venerable Scots Guards Standard Settings of Pipe Music, Volume 1, p. 252.

I recorded four bagpipe tracks: three playing the melody in as close to unison as I could get.  I struck in gradually later and later with each track.  On the fourth track, I played the harmony part (what bagpipers often call “seconds”) on the repeat of the tune.

I used two microphones: one in front of me, aimed at the pipe chanter (the bit that points downward and articulates the notes of the tune), and another microphone mounted high behind me to capture the drones (the three bits that point upward and drone constant tones throughout).  I recorded a fifth track for rhythm using a bodhrán (a type of frame drum), played with a single wooden stick, sometimes called, a “tipper.”  I used Apple’s Logic Pro X for recording software.

If you’re a bagpiper, or maybe even if you’re not, the places I fall down in the music will be obvious.  I’m putting in the work to improve as a musician, as I hope I will for the rest of my life, but this is the way I play right now.  Sometimes that’s difficult for me to digest.

Recording myself often is what those who study the mind might call a “significant emotional event.”  The significance comes from looking directly at myself and truthfully acknowledging what I see, when it’s the result I was trying to accomplish - which can generate intense joy - or far more often, when it isn’t - which can make me feel deeply low.  The reason for that is, I put a significant amount of effort into this stuff, so when I absolutely rototill the music, that’s a representation of the true limitations of my present ability.  I can’t hide behind the excuse that I’m not practicing.  I am practicing, and I’m hearing the results.  I’m looking at me doing the best I can do, whether it’s what I wanted to do or not.

The tricky wee trick, is remembering that comparative valuation, judging myself compared to what others are able to do, or compared to what I’m striving to do, but can’t yet, makes for a cup that’s never filled.  I’ll always want to do better, and there always will someone else who already is.  By contrast, when I apply my best effort, then honestly analyze the result for what it truly is, in and of itself, I meaningfully can appreciate what I’ve produced, and learn from it.  My playing then isn’t good or bad, per se; it simply, though significantly, is.  I still experience the emotional swings, but I’m slowly learning ways to keep those in useful perspective.  Not for nothing, emotional response comprises an elemental part of what musicians try to evoke, so the bonus round is, there are ways to incorporate some of that tumult into musical expression.  I also can turn a disappointment into redoubled focus during practice, and when I play like I’m trying to play, the joy I feel likewise is a source of powerful motivation to keep striving.  Voilà: a classic win-win.

As Bruce Maskell does with his cameras, I’m trying to keep it all in focus, and, in the oft repeated words of another Bruce: the legendary and visionary martial artist Bruce Lee, “Absorb what is useful.  Discard what is useless.  And add what is uniquely (my) own.”  The resultant tangible truth exhibits an almost tactile purchase. I can get ahold of it and hang on. I know what I’ve done. I know what I’m doing.  And I know what I want to do.  That way lies happiness.


The Tournmore Set

The Tournmore Set

Galway Hornpipe Set

Galway Hornpipe Set