Cassandre Balosso-Bardin is a musician and an ethnomusicologist. She is an Assistant Professor in Cultural Musicology at KU Leuven in Belgium, and has dedicated a large part of her research to bagpipes. Her MA explored the world of Bulgarian bagpipes, her PhD (SOAS, Uni of London) was about the Xeremies, the Mallorcan bagpipes, her postdoc at the Sorbonne looked at the movement of the bagpiper's arm, and last year (2022-23) she was a research fellow at the Metropolitan Museum of Art in New York, where she carried out an in-depth study of the museum's bagpipe collection, and updated the online catalogue for the 50-odd instruments, some in collaboration with other experts in the field. She is the co-founder of International Bagpipe Day, along with Andy Letcher, and is the founding director of the International Bagpipe Organisation. Cassandre is also a touring musician: she plays the recorders and the bagpipes and collaborates with a wide range of international musicians.
The Galician gaita (Cristóbal Prieto), the Cornemuse de Centre France (Didier Fouchères), the xeremies (Joan Píu), and I dabble in the boha (Robert Matta) and the tsambouna (Serafeim Marmaridis). I learned the djura gaida (Petko Stefanov) for 3 weeks in Bulgaria when I was a student, but gave up when I couldn’t find a teacher to continue learning in France.
The recorder (my main instrument) and the cello. I started out on the recorder at the age of 5 and refused to see it as a ‘gateway instrument’, as most people did. I promised myself to champion it forever. I went on to study for my Prix de Conservatoire with Jean Pierre Nicolas in Orsay, near Paris. I studied the cello for 10 years and stopped after getting into a major fight with a new teacher. I tried to play the piano for 7 years and eventually gave up: we really weren’t seeing eye to eye.
I fell in love with the bagpipes when I was 13. I was visiting my penpal in Vigo to learn Spanish, and her grandfather’s pipes were lying on the bed in the guest bedroom. I asked if I could try them, and miraculously managed to get a sound out of them. That was it. I spent the next 5 years saving all my pocket money (babysitting, giving music lessons, playing concerts), and trying to figure out which type of bagpipes I would buy and learn. It wasn’t easy to come across any kind of information in these pre-internet days, so it was mostly word of mouth. This kick-started my curiosity about bagpipes from around the world. I wasn’t keen on the Scottish military system that was what was available near my home, and the French folk world was completely invisible to me (you never realise how hidden a community can be when you’re on the inside). So, I decided to go back to the source of my first love, and bought a set of Galician pipes from my penpal’s second cousin, who just so happened to be a young bagpipe maker: Cristóbal Prieto. Now well known (from the Antón Corral school), I was his first international client. I gave him my entire life’s savings, and ordered the most beautiful model available. He sent it within three months. I got it at Christmas, and I then applied for a travel grant directed at young people from the ages of 16-20 in France (Zellidja), and was awarded some money to travel to Galicia and learn about Galician music. I spent 6 weeks travelling up and down the region, meeting mythical pipers (Ernesto Campos, Raúl Galego, Carlos Nuñez), recording music until the sun came up, drinking bucket loads of licor café, and learning to play myself, with the help of my new (and now one of my oldest) best friends, the amazing piper Sandra Tamayo Ramos. I never looked back…
I admire many pipers, most of them not universally known. I think I’ll use this question to express my admiration for all bagpipe makers. Going into this trade and keeping the music and traditions alive with your skill and craftsmanship is no mean feat. Thank you!
Baroque music (my favourites are Vivaldi and Telemann, who obviously are the folkiest of all the baroque composers) Dvorak’s New World symphony: I used to pretend conducting it in my room, listening to Bernstein’s version of it with the NY Philharmonic orchestra on a cassette Walkman a friend had left us. I still listen to the cassette regularly (yes, I still have a CD and cassette player).
Pizzica music from Southern Italy. I play quite a lot of it with my band Amaraterra, but I was already fascinated by it beforehand. The force of the music is incredible and veritably blows you away.
Emily and the Simons: Firelight
Canzionere Grecanico Salentino: Pizzica Indiavolata Bellón Maceiras Dúo: Unión das Terras
Everything again (might try and stick to the piano a bit longer), the accordion, and, most importantly, the trumpet. I absolutely admire the beauty of a clear trumpet sound, and how virtuoso and seemingly effortless the instrument can sound in the right hands. It’s a thing of wonder. Vibrant, loud, and resonant.
It has got to be Chateau d’Ars (or the old Saint Chartier). No real surprise there. I spend all my time with the makers, chatting and learning, catching up with the gossip. I haven't been for many years. It’s about time I went again!
Ortigueira is also amazing: a 3-day festival, free, taking over a small Galician town, sponsored by Estrella Galicia, and featuring incredible acts. What’s not to love?
The first festival I ever went to was Ortigueira. I was 19, and remember being so happy that my heart nearly burst. I couldn’t stop whooping and shouting during the gigs, and my cheeks heart from all the smiling. I saw so many incredible artists and was veritably blown away.
Another one was just after Covid. I used to run the Guild Sessions in Lincoln where I invited folk musicians to play. Emily and the Simons from Sheffield came to play the first gig after we decided to run the sessions again.
Emily’s compositions are beautiful any day, but that evening, I couldn’t stop crying listening to their tunes: it felt so sweet and reminded me how much I loved this kind of music.
And recently, I went to a flamenco gig at a small peña in Seville. The music was good, but the dancing… We were in the first row, knees touching the stage and the power that emanated from dancer and his steps was elating. I had rarely felt such a force before: it swept you up, and shattered your senses. It was incredible.
Happy, personal, cross-cultural.
I couldn’t deal with the piano and all that dissociation, so the bellows feel like a step too far. Mouthblown all the way J
Neither. Cats defecate in my garden (it stinks!) and scare away the birds.
Dogs are too dependent. In general, I’d rather focus on the humans around me 😀 (and the flowers in my garden).
All are beautiful. The more I learn about them, the more I am in awe about the cultural background of each of them. Even the ones that aren’t at the top of my listening list have incredible sagas attached to them.
BOTH! Both make are amazing. Playing music with incredible musicians is a special feeling that I feel privileged to experience. I got into dancing around the age of 20 and it has definitely made me a better musician: once you learn how to dance, you can never get the rhythm or tempo wrong. And I always say that dancing a waltz with a good partner is as close as one gets to the feeling of flying.
Both. Although when I lived in New York, I was desperate for more plastic reeds, as my pipes absolutely hated the dry winter. Touring in outdoor locations in dry/cold places is also brutal for cane reeds. Eventually, I found a hack to get my cane reed workings (thank you FB community!), but it was a bit hairy at times, not knowing if the instrument would actually work or not.
Actually, even my plastic reeds stopped working a couple of times. I still haven’t figured out why. So nothing was failproof!
Can I list 3?
At the age of 19, I played Telemann’s double concerto in E minor for recorder and traverso with orchestra at the Royal Chapel of Versailles. It had been my dream to play this concerto with orchestra because of the last movement, which is very bagpipe-like, and has a soaring melody over a long pedal. It was the only time my grandparents got to hear me play live, and they couldn’t have picked a better concert to attend.
And after that, it has got to be Världens Band: every time I went on stage with this incredible family of musicians, playing our communally arranged music, I felt like I was the luckiest person alive. The touring we did was memorable, and I always thought: ’this is it! This is the life I’ve been looking for all the time.’ I was proud to have achieved playing on those big stages and festivals with this band, while coming from a non-musical family, with absolutely no links to the music world at all.
And last but not least, founding International Bagpipe Day with you in 2012, Andy. What a ride it’s been!
There are a few, but the most recent one was last week. In my new job, I had the opportunity to develop 12 hours of lecturing on pipes. In the first lesson, I brought my instruments in. When I picked my Centre France pipes up, they felt all wrong. It took me about a minute to realise that I had put them together the wrong way round (I hardly ever take them apart, so became really puzzled).
Once I had put them back together properly, I started tuning the drones, but was too energetic and ended up pulling the drone off, which led the bottom part of the drone to spring back, and bang my forehead. I was too embarrassed to look at the students (who tittered), and played a quick scale before putting the instrument back down again. Not a great start… When I told my colleague, he burst out laughing, and said no one could ever top this kind of slapstick comedy in a lecture. So much for sympathy!
The usual! ‘Are you Scottish / Do you have Scottish roots?’ Or the French version: ‘Are you Breton?’ But I always smile and explain kindly why the question is wrong (and plug IBD of course).
Go to some piping festivals or gatherings: you’ll meet so many like-minded and wonderful people that you’ll never look back again.
…they make my heart sing. And because of the community. And when you meet a piper from the other side of the world, even if you don’t share a language, there is an immediate sense of connection and kindred spirit, which I love.
As told to Andy Letcher
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