Isn't it interesting how difficult things, often seem quite simple? Some people see me performing downtown and say to themselves,
"Hey, I can do that. I play the bagpipes. Well, sort of. I bet I could make out like a bandit!"
So, without another thought, they traipse onto the streets and begin plying their trade. Fortunately, we live in a free society where such things are allowed and even encouraged. Far be it from me to dissuade the would be entrepreneur. However, there are some who should seriously consider the innocent bystanders, forced to endure their hobby, especially when it involves a blatantly intrusive instrument such as the bagpipe.
The Great Highland Pipe is not a subtle instrument, nor is it one that is gentle and forgiving. I personally adore the sound of a well played pipe, but have recently gained a new understanding as to why some claim to detest its melodic tones. Let me explain,
I had arrived at my favorite spot downtown, the south gate of Temple Square. My display was set and my pipe was tuned. I was playing Celtic favorites as well as yuletide selections. As I concluded one particular tune, I heard a strange sound in the distance. It sounded like a bagpipe, however, it lacked the melodic resonance. This particular piper was beginning to ply his skills not more than a hundred yards from me.
Please understand, all are welcome to perform downtown. However, with an instrument as loud and intrusive as is the bagpipe, it behooves one to provide ample distance from another piper, so that both can be enjoyed. Most skilled pipers understand this and try to position themselves accordingly. However, this particular evening the piper in question was not of the aforementioned variety.
He was obviously a novice piper, lacking the ability to adequately tune his instrument. His pipes squeaked and squawked as he tried to prepare them for their performance. Finally, he began to rend the air with his three memorized tunes. It was akin to audible torture. His pipes were a half step flat as he belted out "Scotland the Brave", which soon became "Scotland the Brash".
I looked and saw small birds fleeing for their lives. Cats began crossing themselves prior to darting into oncoming traffic in an attempt at suicide. Even nature herself seemed to be registering her objection as a frigid wind began to waft from the East. Adding to the torture was the fact that this individual was using a very loud chanter reed. The horse drawn carriages that normally staged in a long line quickly vanished. The discordant piper continued, oblivious to the carnage he was inflicting.
As I tried to drown out the evil tones, I found myself fighting a loosing battle. As soon as I concluded one tune, the offensive tones filled the air like a foul odor. Desperately, I searched for some acquaintance who could tend my station while I ventured up to talk with this individual, I could find noone. In vain I searched. Finally, I pleaded with visitors passing by,
"Could you please walk up the street and tell that guy that I will gladly tune his instrument for him."
It was terrible. In the end, I believe this guy actually helped me. People were fleeing in droves. In affect, he was bringing the crowds to me, like a skilled herding dog driving sheep. I had the most profitable Monday ever. That's when it hit me, Why should I care? True talent will win out in the end. I was forced to admit that this piper, as offensive as he was, still was free to express himself. The same freedom that allowed me to ply my trade also allowed for others to do the same. Crap!
So, to the reader I would say only this; please do not judge the pipes by such novices. The Bagpipes are an instrument of antiquity that can reach deep into the soul, with healing balm. Unfortunately, they can also be the source of great irritation. If you don't want to hear the offensive tones of an unskilled piper, simply don't pay him. Despite the good intentions, you only compound the problem. Force him to work harder on his craft. It's better for him and for you. Ya right, well at least there are ear plugs.
