The Bagpipe Society

Love letter to an Airbag

Recently I was asked to consider something special to me and to describe it. Turned out that it was my most recent acquisition, a boha set of bagpipes.

And that got me thinking about my two other pipes, a Sean Jones G and a Jim Parr low D. So, this is a love letter to three airbags, not just the one – I lied a bit.

Beginning with the Boha, my latest set, and appropriately named ‘Actual French’ (those ‘Julian and Sandy’ fans will recognise the reference), he is both at once beautiful and plain. His bag is a simple cream. His chanter is also cream with fine decoration around the holes. I love his sound, with such a lovely harmony on the contra. I first met Actual French at Blowout 2019. The owner was toying with the idea of selling him; he was a bit of a handful. It wasn’t until 2022 that I finally took possession. Or was it the other way round? I must confess I nearly gave up trying to play. He was a real challenge to learn, and I couldn’t for the life of me get him to even get through a scale without squeaking and skirling. We were banned to the garden shed for a time. But then just one day we clicked and I was finally able to play a tune. But he never lets me forget who holds the power (and it ain’t me). There have been times when I’ve stopped, scolded him for being a p***k, and then begun again, remembering to give him a ‘well done’ pat afterwards, given cat treats aren’t really his bag. Ahem. I was chuffed to have learnt enough to play at a local concert, but of course we have only just begun our journey together. I’m currently playing in just the one key, and I know several more await. Back to the garden shed, then…..

Whilst I waited for Actual French to become available, I bought my low D

set, named Humperdoo, from Jim Parr. He is an absolute bruiser (the pipes, not Jim). I took delivery of these pipes Easter 2022. He too is a handful because he’s rather on the large side, quite a chunkybutt, and requires confident playing. He too took me a while to get the hang of. I had promised myself rather naively that I would learn to play Humperdoo while my partner was having/recovering from surgery after a cancer diagnosis. Well that just didn’t happen, unsurprisingly, but

I was never going to give up on him, and once more after a lovely new swan neck bag was fitted, we clicked too. Humperdoo is very physical, and while learning to get to know him I would get pretty tired, and move back to my G pipes for a rest. Less so now, and I enjoy playing him. His drone is huge – o my poor ceiling lights! – but beautifully turned in a very pretty maple. I liken playing him with having a tiger for a house pet: he could tear your head off any time, but he chooses not to. I rather like that. It adds a thrill to our relationship – every girl loves a bad boy. Allegedly.

The first pipes I bought, the Sean Jones G (The Hamish), were as a result of going to Blowout as a galley slave and falling in love with this strange new netherworld I had never before encountered. It only took one more Blowout to convince me I ’needed’ a set. The Hamish was ordered shortly afterwards, and I took delivery of him a few months later in September. As my first set, I found the learning process really challenging. I couldn’t get the pressure right, or keep it regular. It took a long while before I got the hang of playing. A local pipe group was instrumental (ha!) in getting me going, and finally The Hamish and I clicked.

The thing I love about pipes is their physicality.

Tucked under your arm, you need to be in tune with their needs; to squeeze or to lightly release as they refill with air; the feel of the chanter and how it responds – is it asking for more air in the bag, or more or less pressure? Is the whole set having a moody, and you know that you might as well just put them down until they recover their temper? There is a running theme in my description of all three pipes, which is The Click. I find I have to have a relationship with pipes that I don’t find my other instruments need to the same extent. I wonder if that’s the same for other pipers? And I

did find a relationship with all three of my pipes eventually – that point where we clicked. But I do feel that is a point on which the pipes decide. They put up with you until they decide you’ll do, and allow themselves to be played. They’re a bit cat-like perhaps, aloof until they want your company. And sometimes they take great pleasure in tarting themselves with another player who, surprise surprise, can play them most excellently right away. Blummen tarty pipes.

But something that keeps me close to two of my pipes is that The Hamish was bought posthumously by my mum. She never knew I had bought him, and of course never heard me play. And Actual French was bought by my dad, but he never really understood that was so, and he never heard me play either. My dad was a musician, and would have really appreciated Actual French. I think that was one big reason why I persevered with the boha. He is the last link with my dad. And Humperdoo was there all the while my partner was ill. So not only is there a relationship between me and my pipes, there are relationships with others that are preserved through them.

The idea of relationship crops up over and over with my pipes. There is something about them that keeps me close, something about them that is different from my other instruments. They have minds of their own, they have their own personalities, idiosyncrasies, moods. They give their permission for you to play, but that could be removed any time. O and one set leads to another.

And they are still tarts. O yes, they are still tarts….