Heading for the Fall
The life of a professional entertainer is nothing if not varied. It’s a job - or, in ceilidh dance band terms it’s a calling - in which no two gigs are ever the same. Even a fifteen-week spell in the same place will always bring something different. Here’s a few examples of what this summer held for me.
A small hotel in Pitlochry was the setting in early June for what appeared to be a straightforward musical evening. Careful preparation on my part (otherwise known as bluff or patter) usually means that I’m able to respond to the type of show expected by audiences. On this occasion the audience was in two halves; one half was from the North East of England and the other half, some thirty people, were all from the village of Tongue on the island of Lewis. Have you heard the Blaydon Races sung in Gaelic? |
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Then there are the wonderful settings for the lavish weddings in top-notch hotels in Inverness, Angus, Perthshire, Fife and on the shores of Loch Lomond. The Highland Nights in Pitlochry, however, have an atmosphere all their own, with a huge crowd, beautiful surroundings, the stirring sounds and colours of the massed pipes and drums and the occasional hint of hypothermia, and countless performers would love to play in the superb Dewar Room of Castle Menzies.
But an even greater attraction is meeting people. Sometimes visitors can be cajoled into coming up to the microphone - “Och I don’t need one of these” - and singing a song or reciting a poem they learned perhaps sixty or seventy years ago.
In a restaurant in Kenmore I met the Tweed family from Branson, Missouri. The lady told me that her husband put on musical shows for visitors, “a bit like your show at Castle Menzies.” That was good enough recommendation for me so I invited him up to sing. He stood six foot six in his cowboy boots as he took my guitar and launched into The Tennessee Waltz in a superb four-octave voice. He followed this with an impersonation of Willie Nelson singing A Good Hearted Woman, complete with scintillating guitar break, and the restaurant erupted. As I took back my still-smoking guitar I was all set to announce my retirement from the music business, but some nice words from the man himself persuaded me (rather easily) to continue.
Next morning on Google I entered “John Tweed Branson Missouri” and came up with his website on which he sings selections from his wide range of music, including country classics, Broadway hits, spiritual ballads and patriotic songs. And hidden in a page of quotes I came across this one: “What a voice you have, and what a range, it’s amazing. You are a terrific entertainer.” It was signed by Andy Williams!
A totally different setting was a Ruby Wedding celebration in a Masonic lodge in Dundee, the only one I’ve ever been in and - coincidentally - the one in which my parents had held their wedding reception. I discovered on the night that this particular lodge was the one which had controversially invited world champion boxer Jack Johnson to join the order, before higher authority deemed that it was no place for an alleged wife-beater and withdrew the invitation. The fact that Johnson was the first black champion was, of course, irrelevant to the argument. There on a wall, beside entries for Masons worldwide, including Lyndon B Johnson and Al Jolson, appeared “Johnson, John A. “Jack”. American world heavyweight champion boxer 1908-1915. Lodge Forfar and Kincardine No 225, Dundee, Scotland.”
Other interesting phenomena include jet-lagged coach parties trying desperately to stay awake beyond 10 pm after leaving the south of England at a ridiculously early hour of the morning, travelling hundreds of miles and having a five-course dinner.
Then there was the unusual sight of the new bride and groom dancing the opening waltz and, when I called upon the parents to join them, discovering that all four had divorced and married again, so there were now ten on the floor. And there‘s always the satisfaction gained from entertaining the residents of various homes and sheltered accommodation complexes, not forgetting the unleashed frenzy of the Dalweem Dog Show. It beats a real job any day!
by ALAN BROWN
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