In praise of good fiddling
On my way to get milk this evening, I timed my parking the car with the start of an interview on CBC radio. And stayed put to listen.
You can’t fake nice. Many try. In the case of Natalie MacMaster, she’s the real thing. No soft drink implied. The fiddler that inspires me will be here on Saturday evening (and I don’t have tickets). I’ll have to be content with playing some of her CD library. As near as I can figure, she’s be onstage for a quarter of a century now. I’ve met her uncle, I’ve studied her technique. Heck, I even emailed her mother at one point, to try and seed the idea of an album composed of slow airs (so that I can follow along). So far, it hasn’t happened, but with four kids and a herd of cattle to keep her busy, she might get around to it. Some day.
A busy artist, who has been up there with a lot of big names without letting it go to her head. Like I said, nice people can’t be faked. She’s got the kids on the road with her, because family and music go together. Just the way it did when she was starting out. I’m a believer when it comes to music and genes; her kids have a better than average chance of doing something worth notice.
And if someone dropped tickets in my lap for Saturday night, I think I could be convinced to put the CD away and head on into town. Now, that would be nice.
