Promoting the Bagpipe Revival since 1986
The Bagpipe Society
Rencontres Internationales de Luthiers et Maitres-sonneurs, St Chartier 1986
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Rencontres Internationales de Luthiers et Maitres-Sonneurs, St Chartier, Indre, France. July 11-14th 1986
The Rencontres Internationales de Luthiers et Maitres-Sonneurs is the festival for bagpipe and hurdy-gurdy playes and makers in Europe. Now in its 11th year it may have lost a little of its original energy and fascination but, nevertheless, it’s still the most enjoyable festival I’ve attended and this was my fifth visit. It takes place in a small village which slumbers for 51 weeks of the year to be rudely awakened by hundreds of maniac pipers, hurdy-gurdy and other instrument players who keep up a constant droning row for at least 3 days and four nights. I, O mean constant, it’s not a good place to go to if you want to get any sleep. Overlooking the village is a tatty and very picturesque chateau which is my personal best contender as a set for a film version of Mervyn Peake’s ‘Titus Groan’. In the grounds, overhung by groups of large trees, are stands where instrument makers from all over Europe exhibit their work (this year there were about 80 makers exhibiting). They erect a grandstand in the open air, facing a large stage built onto part of one side of the chateau. It’s a glorious setting at night: the stage and chateau are lit up to provide an evocative setting and the perfect platform for any European traditional, ethnic or early music group who can cut the mustard in front of a large, pretty sophisticated and cosmopolitan audience. This stage contributed to the making (and sometimes the undoing) of many a European group’s reputation. Not an easy gig to play, but when a band gets it right you can witness some real magic, a special atmosphere unique to St. Chartier.
Out in the village they build three open air dance floors for what many people consider the best part of the festival. These provide a platform for any band bold enough to get up and play for dancing. Things usually start to hot up here around midnight and peter out around breakfast time. On a good night you can go from one dance floor to another and dance to bands from Brittany, Portugal, Belgium — you name it. There’s an open air bar to quench a late night thirst, where I’ve had loads of long conversations with foreign musicians in a patois of English, French and sign language. I can’t remember a lot but at the time it all seemed to make perfect sense!
Down on the camp site, which is a stone’s throw away, you can tell where the British are camping. Sagging tents, old cars surrounded by cardboard boxes (full of cooking stuff, bits of string, tin openers, old loaves of bread) which have exploded their contents everywhere, washing which has fallen off lines, violin cases seemingly abandoned in the heat and the occasional prostrate, crashed out body act like a flag of cultural identity: good old British messiness versus the immaculate concepts of continental outdoor living (nice camper vans, beautiful tents and barbecue sets).
In the village there are three cafés. As you walk down the street from the chateau there’s one on the left which has a miserable patron who overcharges all weekend, makes his stash for the year but hasn’t got the imagination to be pleasant about it (a
French friend described him, rather drily, as one of the people who probably served General Pétain during the war). Then there’s the one on the right which is run by a very tolerant woman in her fifties who always provides good value and makes an effort for the festival trade. Her toilet is the one to seek out. Definitely the best in the village, plenty of soft bog roll and hot water. You’ll realise the importance of this once you’ve seen the other facilities. Down the road to the campsite is the bakers where most people get their breakfast and the whole area gets its bread. When you’re dancing in the middle of the night you sometimes see the old baker staggering up the road under a bundle of wood on his way to prepare his first bake of the new day. I sometimes wonder what he thinks of it all.
As per usual a group of us travelled in Jon Swayne’s ancient and trusty Volkswagen van. We always seem to spend the first 10/11 miles quietly keeping our fingers crossed about its reliability and it always defies the opinion of Jon’s local garage man who tells him it’ll never make it and gets us there and back without a hitch. This year Jon had with him a few new sets of pipes to exhibit that were to prove a bit of a surprise to other makers and players alike. For some time now, he’s been beavering away on a design for a new half-long bagpipe which does the sort of things contemporary players are looking for — cross fingering, overblowing, good tonal characteristics and general reliability — and judging by the general reaction and my own experience with the set he finished for me in time for the festival, he’s pulled it off. By studying original examples and utilising his own design capabilities he’s produced what I think is the only serious contender for a useful modern English bagpipe. If you don’t believe me try them out for yourself.
Remember the boom in early music in the 1970’s? Well, like all fashions it passed by but it left behind it a honed down, more knowledgeable early music scene with the best of the instrument makers surviving by concentrating on very authentic reconstructions and excellent craftsman/ person/ship. The same thing is happening to the conteintal bagpipe/hurdy-gurdy scene. The whole thing has definitely peaked and is moving into a new phase where a plentiful supply of not so good makers is falling by the wayside and the best craftsmen are surviving to service an increasingly more discerning type of punter. Economically the scene isn’t as lush as it was five years ago, there are less people buying but they’re paying more. What they’re getting though is a vast improvement. The makers who have weathered the changes in the market have done so by the sheer quality of their work and, by concentrating on specific types of regional bagpipe, researching original examples thoroughly and applying that knowledge to their own design ideas, modern materials and workshop techniques. All this is happening at a time when the general interest in the subject of bagpipes seems to be on the rise over here. This is all to the good — if you go to St. Chartier and have a look around, there are less people exhibiting but, generally speaking, you’re looking at the best instruments currently on offer. Pre-eminent among these are Remy Dubois, who makes various Belgian and French pipes, Bernard Blanc, who specialises in Bourbonnais Cornemuses (in 5 sizes/tunings). If you’re interested in French bagpipes this is the place to indulge yourself. Caillettets, Musette de Cour, Cornemuse Béchonnet, Cornemuse Limousine, Dubois and Blanc are both making a cheap, good quality
54 Chanter Chanter 55
‘student’ bagpipe with a very short waiting list for around FF2000. I’m surprised that no-one has done this before. Part of the bagpipe market are people who want to learn but don’t want to risk a large investment until they’ve sorted out how they get along with the things. I think I’m right in saying that Julian Goodacre does pretty well at St. Chartier with his pipes partly because they’re cheap and readily available. I ordered a set Bourbonnais Cornemuse from Blanc and I get them next year, 3 years after ordering them. Long waiting lists don’t encourage the beginner so any moves in the direction of cheap, off-the-peg pipes can only be a positive thing. There were main stage concerts on three nights. The previous year saw the best ever concert line-up with RITMIA (Italy), GWERZ (Brittany) and DE DANANN (Ireland) compared to that almost anything was going to be a come down. ALABATSCHI (S. Germany), and NA LUA (Galicia) were pleasant but unmemorable on the Friday night. Things looked up on the Saturday when the ENSEMBLE FOLKLORIQUE NATIONAL RODOPA DE SMOLYAN (Bulgaria) gave a breathtaking performance of Bulgarian traditional dance, song and instrumental music. They should have headlined the entire event, instead they were stuck on at three in the afternoon. The highlight on Saturday night was ‘ANITA ANITA’ (French/Italian), described as music from the Mediterranean, they concentrate on their own compositions, influenced by elements of traditional music but firmly in the contemporary field, their music had a lightness of touch and a sophistication that wasn’t to everyone’s taste although generally well received. On the Sunday morning Nigel Eaton won the hurdy-gurdy players competition and was awarded a sort of double first prize for being about two streets ahead of the other competitors. No mean feat. The Sunday night concert featured ‘FUBU’ (France, centre), the godfather of the Sardinian Launeddas — AURELIO PORCU and the ‘WHISTLEBINKIES’ (Scotland). First up were ‘FUBU’ who came on stage to a returning heroes-type welcome. The atmosphere in the crowd was electric before they played. They were supposed to have played last year but due to illness they cancelled. This time they made it and they didn’t disappoint. Thierry Mirebeau is regarded as the best young Cabretta player there is which was borne out by a masterful and relaxed performance complete with electric hairdrier to warm up the chanter reed. The Launeddas from Sardinia, is a traditional instrument, it’s three cane tubes, two are chanters and one a drone. They’re all inserted into the mouth of the player and played like a bagpipe using continuous breathing. The extraordinary effect has to be experienced; the best way to do that is to go and buy ‘SARDAIGNE: LAUNEDDAS, LUICI LAI & AURELIO PORCU’ OCORA RECORDS 558611, distributed in the U.K. by Harmonia Mundi. Porcu (meaning Pig, shame he never met Billy Pigg) is a superstar, he loved the audience and they loved him. Brilliant. Buy the record. ‘THE WHISTLEBINKIES’ finished the evening. To be honest I only caught the first couple of numbers. A good solid band but not the most imaginative when it comes to arrangements but they do a good show and the audience loved them. Out in the village the dance floors were heaving all night and every night to every conceivable type of continental dance music. Atmosphere is what St. Chartier is all about. It is not what it was but it still beats every other festival hands down for good times and great music.
For information write to: Michele FROMENTEAU, 5, Place du Marché, 36400 LA CHATRE, FRANCE.
Paul James
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