Below are the entries copied from my journal chronicling my week at Maine Fiddle Camp.
8.17.14
Today was the first partial day of Maine Fiddle Camp. The morning was spent in preparation, mostly cleaning the house so that the dog sitter doesn’t think we’re total slobs. We left our house at around 5:30 pm, entered the camp’s address into our GPS only to discover that the camp was not one hour away as we had originally assumed but only half an hour. I slept through most of the car ride so I cannot provide a true description of driving down twisty country roads surrounded by primordial forests that opened up into an idyllic little camp.
Truth be told, the forest never really opened up. The camp is carved out of little pockets of woods with rough trails linking the clearings together. There are cabins- tiny wooden structures with bunks three beds high painted red. The unaccompanied minors and families with small children are in the cabins, everyone else is either tenting, in a camper, or staying outside the camp.
We, of course, are camping in our teardrop trailer – well, Mom and Dad are in the trailer, Stuart and I are sharing an enormous four man tent pitched right in front of the trailer.
At seven, after we’d registered and set up our campsite, we journeyed through the woods to the main tent. It started raining as we were walking and turned into a deluge just as we reached the main tent.
The main tent is a large yellow and white striped construction like what you might find at a fair. The floor is boarded for dancing and there’s a raised stage with a piano at one end of the tent above the stage a sign proudly proclaims: Maine Fiddle Camp.
We sat in blue folding chairs and waited while a man played the fiddle and many of the campers played along with whatever instruments they had on them at the time. There were fiddles, banjos, guitars, whistles, cellos, all playing along together.
We were then told the rules of Fiddle Camp by the camp’s director who was extremely effusive. He introduced us to all the camp nurse and then played a song and introduced the teachers who then each played a tune.
8.18.14
Things I learned today
1. bass @ 45 degree angle to body – lean it towards me
2. use entire arm for plucking and fingering
3. work on handshape
4. bow – how to hold – tip up (keep parallel to floor) – practice in a mirror.
5. Each note should run into the next.
8.19.14
The dragonfly rested just above his breast
sunshine glittered off its wings
He swayed with the rhythm of the bass notes
eyes closed, face jubilant
The dragonfly clung to his pocket
swaying as he swayed
Thick callused fingers struck music from strings
and the dragonfly flew, dancing in air.
Fiddle camp is a magical place and I do not use the word magical lightly. I walk through the camp and everywhere there is music. I hear refrains from a group of guitars as I walk the wooded path and before the strains of their song have faded accordion music floats into my awareness. There is layer upon layer of music here. No place is quiet, but it is all peaceful and harmonious – for the most part.
Today, my father and the other banjo players were asked by someone to help wake up their fried who had slept in. The banjo players (affectionately nicknamed the thrashers, for every lesson group is named after a bird) encircled the unfortunate in-sleeper’s tent and proceeded to play as loudly and obnoxiously as possible until a voice from within the tent told them to “Fuck off already” at which point I witnessed a heard of delighted banjo players fleeing from the scene as fast as their thirteen pound instruments would permit.
I began learning my first melody on bass today, which was difficult, but all the more satisfying when I got it right.
I was worried that I would be – not the worst – but the least experienced or the slowest one in my class to understand, but I’m not. There’s one man who’s brand new to bass, but has played the fiddle. There’s another man who’s played electric bass since he was a teenager and is having difficulty letting go of his electric bass habits which don’t translate well to upright bass after a certain point. The woman in our class has been playing for a couple of years and is pretty good, in my opinion. She makes things more complicated than they need to be, but then again; the bluegrass bass tradition is very simple compared to some other bass traditions.
8.20.14
People keep saying that they can’t believe I’ve only been playing the upright bass since February. This gives me a warm fuzzy feeling. Playing a musical instrument has always been like going into battle for me. The bass is the first instrument that I haven’t felt like I’m fighting to play and understand – I just get it. And it’s so gratifying to know that it’s not just in my head. Maybe someday I really will be a good bass player.
8.21.14
I played in the dance band today. One of the traditions at Maine Fiddle Camp is that every evening there’s an old fashioned barn dance. The whole point of the camp is to preserve this wonderful musical tradition, and a big part of that is preserving the dances, because it’s dancing music. So every night there’s a dance and every night anyone who wants can get up on the stage and add their instrument to the band. It was hard and I didn’t make half the chord changes, but I kept the beat and that’s really all that’s important when you’re playing for a dance.
Another, newer tradition at Maine Fiddle Camp is the Great Horned Ukestra. I think it started as a joke when someone realized that a bunch of people had brought brass instruments and another bunch of people had brought ukulele’s and they said, “hey why don’t we put them together?” So, every night for the last two songs of the dance, the Great Horned Ukestra – which consists of about twenty to thirty ukulele players and some saxophone’s trumpet, sousaphones, clarinets, etc – takes the stage and plays a fox trot and a waltz. I borrowed a ukulele. It was so much fun.
8.22.14
The last day of fiddle camp. I don’t want it to end. I don’t want to go home to the internet and to email and to any responsibility that doesn’t involve playing my bass and listening to fiddle tunes.
Home now. I realized on the drive home that I hadn’t looked in a mirror all week. I’d hardly brushed my hair. I most certainly hadn’t showered – though I did go swimming. I didn’t want to look in the mirror. I didn’t want to reconnect with the vain person I become when faced with a mirror. There’s something so liberating about deliberately separating oneself from one’s appearance.
I’ll admit it felt good to take a shower. There’s was even a spider’s web in the corner to remind me of the spiders who made their webs on the porch where the bass class met for lessons. Normally, I’m none to thrilled to share my shower with a spider, but I wanted the spider to remind me of that wonderful time, spent thumping away on my bass and learning to thump just that little bit more skillfully every day.
8.26.14
I’ve been having difficulty sleeping because as soon as I lay down at night, my head is filled with bass music. I keep running over how I can apply the things I learned to the songs I already know. Where can I add bass runs and passing notes? Can I work out the melody to that song? Each day I work a little bit and each day I get a little bit better and I can’t wait to see where I’m at next year when I go to Maine Fiddle Camp.
Thank you for reading
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