wee dug by Joe Davie

David McGuinness's blog (2000-2018)

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Sunday 3 December 2000

It was difficult to make much headway with ConCal work last week – we’re waiting for some figures from our accountant to go into a funding application, and waiting to hear from the Edinburgh Festival about the Gentle Shepherd.  The Festival have said ‘it looks like we’re moving towards a yes on this one’, but that’s not quite the same thing as a simple ‘yes’.  If it goes ahead, then all our energies will get channeled into that for a while, finishing the Mungrel Stuff CD to launch at the same time, researching and preparing the performances, and planning how to make the most of the exposure.  But we don’t know if it’s happening yet.

Still, there’s plenty to occupy me in the meantime, making radio programmes, producing McFall’s (back in the studio on Tuesday), and deciphering Prefab Sprout demos.  I gave a lecture at the RSAMD on Friday – the students came up with some good answers as to why learning from and about the past is a good idea, but trying to reconstruct it isn’t.  We were talking about baroque music, but it could have been about anything really.

The composer Andrew Cruickshank dropped round this afternoon to borrow a DAT machine – we were in a jazz band together when I was 15, playing mostly Coltrane numbers.  Andrew played bass, and also took blissed-out flute solos.  Now he writes music for films (he won a BAFTA last year), and Greg from McFall’s is playing in a gig of his tomorrow: a live performance of a film score, followed by the film itself.  At least I think it’s that way round.

This morning I learnt something very useful: my harpsichord doesn’t fit in my car.  Normally I don’t move it myself, but the minister of our local parish church asked me a while ago if I’d play in this morning’s service.  I ended up driving it round to the church at about 3 miles per hour with the keyboard end sticking out the back, as the minister and another valiant parishioner followed behind, hanging on in case it slipped.  It must have looked like we were transporting a coffin, after the hearse failed to show up.