Bagpiping has become one of the most important things
in my life so far. It does not really have anything to do with my
Scottish identity, which I feel that I am more or less comfortable
with, but has a lot to do with true self expression. I had reached a period
of deep musical 
dissatisfaction, and was looking for an instrument that would satisfy
me in terms of musical self expression, without having
to rely on the arsenal of electronic equipment
that seemed to be turning a family home into an electronics shop. After
a fair bit of experimenting, I decided on the bagpipe. I was more than a
little bit underconfident about this at first, and after buying my first
practice chanter I didn't really tell anyone for about a year. Mostly,
this had to do with my upbringing. My Mum's side of the family had been
very musical, various Grandparents and Uncles played the fiddle, mandolin
and melodeon, and all the women sang well, musicality was encouraged, yet,
for some reason, the bagpipe was held in a semi-mythical status. To study
the bagpipes was, in the view of my family, akin to joining the priesthood,
that is to say, that the pipes would take you away from your family and
somehow change you. Your family would see you later on, out there in the
community, in your new rainments, a figure that they were proud of, but
somehow they would never be able to approach you in quite the same way again.
Knowing what I know now, they were not mistaken. There are times
when I have had reed trouble, or been fitting a new bag, when I have thought
that the life of a clergyman, any clergyman, would be a lot easier
than that of the piper.
All pipers begin with the practice chanter, (well, there is
a story of a man in foreign climes who taught himself on the full
set of pipes without ever hearing of the practice chanter. I do not
know if this story is true, but reputedly the sound could peel tooth
enamel at over a quarter mile away).
The practice chanter is like a smaller version of the pipe
chanter, which is mouth blown. On this you learn the basic bagpipe
fingering, and all the tunes that you will ever learn in your
life. There are many kinds of practice chanters around, wood, plastic,
plain, engraved, normal scale, long scale, all of them are perfectly
good, just make sure that you get one that suits you, because you will
spend a lot more time on it than you ever will on the pipes, that's
for sure.
Practice chanters can also stow away in a coat pocket, which
is handy if you are going on 
holiday and the bagpipe is not welcomed by the rest of the family.
The picture on the left shows me playing the practice chanter under
one of a pair of Cornish standing stones called the The Pipers. The
peeping of the practice chanter, I will admit, does not have the gravitas
of the full Great Highland Bagpipe, but in a pinch it's better than standing
there twiddling your thumbs. I have been learning the pipes since
1995, you never really stop learning, I know that as I go on, I get a
great deal of satisfaction from playing the pipes, yet am never totally
satisfied with my own performance. I am lucky enough to own a fine
set of pipes, they are ex-army pipes that were bought by me from an
ex-Gordon Highlanders piper. They had previously been owned by his father,
who was also an ex-Gordon's piper. I bought them locally, just outside
Aberdeen, where old pipes are not so affected by the words "vintage" or
"antique" as they are nearer Glasgow, Edinburgh or South of the Border.
My pipes are reputedly Hendersons, the man who sold them to me had
always thought that, although one very respected bagpipe maker/restorer
told me he thought they were Robertsons.
There are no maker's marks of any kind on them, so I don't really
know. The pic on the left
is an old set of Hendersons that went for auction on eBay. Mine
look like that, except mine are brass mounted instead of silver.
The main thing is that they sound great, sometimes when I'm out in the
open piping, and the pipes are going well, it feels as if I am being
wrapped up in the sound of the drones. When that happens, the
idea of being musically dissatisfied becomes a far distant memory.
