The Spirit of Competition
by Paul Anderson
B&F August 2008
It’s around 12 years or so since I last entered a fiddle competition; it was the annual Glenfiddich Scottish Fiddle Championship, which is held at Blair Castle. In 1995 I finally managed to win the coveted title, after a number of runner-up placings, but in 1996 I failed even to get into the top three.
Although it was quite a bitter disappointment at the time, I’m the first to acknowledge that my performance simply wasn’t good enough in 1996 and didn’t warrant a prize.
The question is; why was my performance in 1996 so poor when only a year before and with the same amount of practice was I deemed good enough to be crowned champion? The truth is that there is no single reason and that there is a combination of factors which come into play.
I first came across the fiddle when I was about five or six when I discovered an old French instrument under the bed at my grandparents’ farmhouse just outside the Aberdeenshire village of Tarland. Once discovered, I developed quite a passion for the fiddle and my granny regularly heard me upstairs sawing away like a lumberjack. How long this initial interest lasted I can’t say but I do remember that a little later it was the bagpipes which I’d set my heart on. However whether it was something which I’d seen on the TV or music I’d heard on the radio, by the age of nine I approached my granny and asked her if I could learn to play the fiddle. “If you learn to play the fiddle you can keep it,” was her response and, on having the fiddle set up properly, I started lessons aged nine at the Tarland Primary School with local tutor, Andy Linklater. (Incidentally, that fiddle which I found under the bed at my grandparents is the fiddle I play to this day. It was made by Collin Mezin in Paris in 1893.)
When I started learning to play the violin my main motivation was so that I could play Scottish music on it. I was quite a wee patriot when I was young, my favourite book being ‘Kidnapped’ by Robert Louis Stevenson, my favourite records were Johnny Cash and The Corries and the radio programmes of Robbie Shepherd were regular listening. So at the age of ten when my parents asked if I’d like to go along to the Banchory S&R Society to play Scottish fiddle music I readily agreed. However, this was a new world to me and initially quite a daunting one.
The Banchory S&R Society practice, now as then, is held every Thursday night in The Burnett Arms Hotel in Banchory with the junior fiddlers having their practice prior to the seniors. I can remember my first night quite vividly as I was nervous as hell and more than a little lost with the new music. However, I soon got into the swing of things and the Thursday night practice became the highlight of the week.
I consider myself lucky that at this impressionable age I had some excellent role models around me at The Society, with not only some great fiddlers in the old North-East style but also some talented younger players who were regularly taking prizes at the many competitions up and down the country. Some of these have gone on to become very well known musicians on the Scottish music scene like Judi Nicolson (nee Davidson), Angela MacEachern (nee Smith), Jane Davidson (nee Smith, the current conductor of the Banchory S&R Society) and Brian Cruickshank who, though better known as a bassist, is also an excellent fiddler. Some of the older players like Harry Nicol not only met James Scott Skinner but had also played with him (Harry was also a great friend of Hector McAndrew) so there were a great many positive influences on my traditional playing.
My first ever fiddle competition was the 12 and Under class at The Banchory Fiddle Festival, which is held in Banchory Town Hall in May each year. I think I turned up almost an hour before the competition began (which makes a change for me now!) but at all of my earliest competitions I was always there well before my class started. This may partly have been down to keenness on my own part but was as likely to have been my parents making sure I was there on time. My parents played a crucial role in my development as a fiddler, for without their time and support I possibly wouldn’t be playing today. They always made sure that the practicing was done and deserve a medal for carting me all over the country to competitions and concerts. The adjudicator that day was Peter Zanre from Elgin, who is still adjudicating today, and I came in joint third with Wendy Milne from Banchory. The winner was Alec Bain from Durris near Banchory, a pupil of Hector MacAndrew and future winner of the Junior Golden Fiddle Championship.
In June that year I got a fourth at The Elgin Festival, which at that time was one of the biggest fiddle festivals in the country, but it wasn’t until November that I won my first competition at The Angus S&R Society Scottish Fiddle championship in Kirriemuir. It was a fairly large class and I was accompanied by Mary Milne from Banchory and the adjudicator was the notable Scots fiddler and publisher, Alastair Hardie. I don’t really remember anything about my playing that day, but it was one of the best feelings I’d even experienced as I’d never won anything before and really wasn’t outstanding at anything at school. In second place was Rory MacLeod of Inverness (who stopped competing a few years later) and in third place was Maureen Turnbull from Dundee, my nemesis at many a competition and the three times Glenfiddich Fiddle Champion.
I honestly feel that winning the first competition in 1980 had a huge impact on my future; I loved winning and, having found something I was good at, I practiced hard. I couldn’t say that I was ever that discouraged by getting beaten in competition, it just made me persevere all the more.
The various competitions round Scotland became the social high points of my year and my practice would go into fifth gear in the couple of weeks running up to an event. I can’t stress enough the importance of practice in the mastering of the instrument; unfortunately there are no shortcuts to becoming a good player and only years of hard work and dedication can turn the novice into a master.
I’ve heard several people in the past who have had an almost rabid dislike for competition, holding the view that it goes against the whole ethos of ‘folk music’. However, I strongly disagree with this opinion and maintain that there’s nothing which gives a fiddler greater reason to practice and try to perfect their regional style than competitions. And after all, fiddle competitions have a very long and distinguished history in Scotland with both James Scott Skinner and Niel Gow being notable champions. Gow famously won a competition in Perth in 1745, which was open to the whole of Scotland; the adjudicator, who was a blind man named John McCraw, stated that he, “could distinguish Niel’s bow amang a hunder players’.”
Many of the readers will remember The Golden Fiddle Awards, which were sponsored by The Daily Record, and which I would argue was the biggest Scottish fiddle competition there’s ever been. Although there are several prestigious competitions today, there’s simply nothing that comes close to The Golden Fiddle Award in its heyday, and it says a lot about how things have changed since the early 80s when you consider that the senior champion at that time could expect not just front page newspaper coverage but also TV and radio engagements and a marked upturn in bookings. Sadly The Golden Fiddle is no more, but it was a daunting prospect for any fiddler, with not only the heats and the final to contend with but a tense build-up during the grand concert which was usually held before a packed house in a venue like The Usher Hall in Edinburgh. I competed in The Golden Fiddle finals on three occasions, in Glasgow, Edinburgh and Dundee, and for me it was always a long road home; however, I was never downbeat for long. The day before the finals in Dundee in 1982 I went head first over the handle-bars of my bike during a school cycle trip; fracturing my nose and badly ripping up my knees and elbows. My parents weren’t best pleased but I attended the competition anyway and, despite looking like I’d gone through a mincing machine, I still thought I was in with as good a chance as anyone else.
I don’t tend to get that nervous when I’m performing (though there are the occasions on which I do) but laterally I did get bothered when I was competing, especially at Glenfiddich when the muscles would tense up, my chest get tight and a cold sweat would run down the back of my legs. This was something which seemed to get worse as I got older and I would guess that as a younger player who was trying to prove myself I had a hunger to win and a desire to make a name for yourself, while later in my competition career and as a regular competition winner you then become one of the people to beat.
This brings me to an important point; competition is as much a test of character as a test of ability and the competitor who can cope with the stress and pressure will always be in with a shout. There have been a number of times as an adjudicator where I’ve been surprised at the poor performance of ‘the favourite’ and I can certainly attest to the fact that at many a championship I came off stage thinking I’d played far better at home in the kitchen the previous night. The thing is, competition should not be the end in itself but should be the means to an end and should be considered as a great way to develop as a player and assist in making your reputation.
The year I won The Glenfiddich Fiddle championship at Blair Castle I had just become engaged the night before the competition – and to be perfectly honest my mind wasn’t really on the work at hand! However I was well practiced and, for the first time at Glenfiddich, carefree and relaxed; of course on this occasion I had also had just the right dose of Balvenie to bring me to the peak of condition (this is not to say that getting blind drunk is a good idea – it’s not!)
One year later and it was quite a different story, as I’d just gone through a fairly unpleasant break-up and, being at a low ebb, was completely unprepared for such an emotionally exhausting experience.
Looking back on these two Championships it seems very clear to me that being able to deal with the nerves and stress of competition is almost as important as being musically well prepared.
My days of competing are long gone now but I like to keep an eye on the competition scene to see who’s making a name for themselves and, of course, I also adjudicate the odd competition now and again; I’ve been one of the three judges at Glenfiddich on a couple of occasions now.
As someone who does adjudicate regularly I perhaps do have some basic advice for any budding fiddle competitors. Although being well turned out is never going to beat a masterful performance, I would say that being tidy and well turned out does create a good and memorable first impression; playing in competition is a little bit like serving an apprenticeship and making an effort for your audience is a habit worth cultivating.
Always pick repertoire which is well within your capabilities; a set of fairly straightforward, standard tunes played at a nice steady tempo and with good grasp of style and character will always for me beat a set of the most complicated, showy tunes played hell for leather. One of the worst decisions I made when competing was in deciding was to play Skinner’s classic hornpipe The Mathematician, as I went into The Glenfiddich only getting the tune right about 50% of the time in practice. I duly made an a*se of the tune and wished I’d played something I could cope with!
A point I mentioned earlier, and which ties in with my last comment, is that practice is essential and being well prepared will help you to cope with the inevitable nerves and stress.
Always wait for the adjudicator to give you a nod to begin playing, as I often find that I’m still writing up the previous competitor when the next one is ready to begin, and when you do start make sure you stand well to the front of the stage with the fiddle facing the judge; i.e. so that the sound is directed towards the judge.
It might seem a little obvious, but always make sure that you’re in tune before beginning; if you can’t tune your fiddle yourself, ask someone else, even the adjudicator.
If you are playing with an accompanist make sure that you get as much rehearsal with them as you possibly can; it will always make for a much tighter performance.
Make sure that when you put a set of tunes together that they are the type of tune requested and ‘Scottish’; on a number of occasions I’ve adjudicated competitors who have played pipe marches instead of strathspeys and Irish tunes instead of Scottish.
At the end of the day, competition is not the be all and end all and you should enjoy the music and take the opportunity to hear as many different players as possible; they all have something different to offer. If you can, try and track down recordings of some of the dreat players of the last century because in their playing you’ll hear the essence of our unique Scottish fiddle tradition and this can only have a positive influence on your own playing; players like Hector MacAndrew, Angus Cameron, Willie Hunter and Angus Grant are all good examples. Above all enjoy the music, it’s one of Scotland’s greatest national heirlooms and thankfully still a living tradition. And finally practice, practice, practice!
Although it was quite a bitter disappointment at the time, I’m the first to acknowledge that my performance simply wasn’t good enough in 1996 and didn’t warrant a prize.
The question is; why was my performance in 1996 so poor when only a year before and with the same amount of practice was I deemed good enough to be crowned champion? The truth is that there is no single reason and that there is a combination of factors which come into play.
I first came across the fiddle when I was about five or six when I discovered an old French instrument under the bed at my grandparents’ farmhouse just outside the Aberdeenshire village of Tarland. Once discovered, I developed quite a passion for the fiddle and my granny regularly heard me upstairs sawing away like a lumberjack. How long this initial interest lasted I can’t say but I do remember that a little later it was the bagpipes which I’d set my heart on. However whether it was something which I’d seen on the TV or music I’d heard on the radio, by the age of nine I approached my granny and asked her if I could learn to play the fiddle. “If you learn to play the fiddle you can keep it,” was her response and, on having the fiddle set up properly, I started lessons aged nine at the Tarland Primary School with local tutor, Andy Linklater. (Incidentally, that fiddle which I found under the bed at my grandparents is the fiddle I play to this day. It was made by Collin Mezin in Paris in 1893.)
When I started learning to play the violin my main motivation was so that I could play Scottish music on it. I was quite a wee patriot when I was young, my favourite book being ‘Kidnapped’ by Robert Louis Stevenson, my favourite records were Johnny Cash and The Corries and the radio programmes of Robbie Shepherd were regular listening. So at the age of ten when my parents asked if I’d like to go along to the Banchory S&R Society to play Scottish fiddle music I readily agreed. However, this was a new world to me and initially quite a daunting one.
The Banchory S&R Society practice, now as then, is held every Thursday night in The Burnett Arms Hotel in Banchory with the junior fiddlers having their practice prior to the seniors. I can remember my first night quite vividly as I was nervous as hell and more than a little lost with the new music. However, I soon got into the swing of things and the Thursday night practice became the highlight of the week.
I consider myself lucky that at this impressionable age I had some excellent role models around me at The Society, with not only some great fiddlers in the old North-East style but also some talented younger players who were regularly taking prizes at the many competitions up and down the country. Some of these have gone on to become very well known musicians on the Scottish music scene like Judi Nicolson (nee Davidson), Angela MacEachern (nee Smith), Jane Davidson (nee Smith, the current conductor of the Banchory S&R Society) and Brian Cruickshank who, though better known as a bassist, is also an excellent fiddler. Some of the older players like Harry Nicol not only met James Scott Skinner but had also played with him (Harry was also a great friend of Hector McAndrew) so there were a great many positive influences on my traditional playing.
My first ever fiddle competition was the 12 and Under class at The Banchory Fiddle Festival, which is held in Banchory Town Hall in May each year. I think I turned up almost an hour before the competition began (which makes a change for me now!) but at all of my earliest competitions I was always there well before my class started. This may partly have been down to keenness on my own part but was as likely to have been my parents making sure I was there on time. My parents played a crucial role in my development as a fiddler, for without their time and support I possibly wouldn’t be playing today. They always made sure that the practicing was done and deserve a medal for carting me all over the country to competitions and concerts. The adjudicator that day was Peter Zanre from Elgin, who is still adjudicating today, and I came in joint third with Wendy Milne from Banchory. The winner was Alec Bain from Durris near Banchory, a pupil of Hector MacAndrew and future winner of the Junior Golden Fiddle Championship.
In June that year I got a fourth at The Elgin Festival, which at that time was one of the biggest fiddle festivals in the country, but it wasn’t until November that I won my first competition at The Angus S&R Society Scottish Fiddle championship in Kirriemuir. It was a fairly large class and I was accompanied by Mary Milne from Banchory and the adjudicator was the notable Scots fiddler and publisher, Alastair Hardie. I don’t really remember anything about my playing that day, but it was one of the best feelings I’d even experienced as I’d never won anything before and really wasn’t outstanding at anything at school. In second place was Rory MacLeod of Inverness (who stopped competing a few years later) and in third place was Maureen Turnbull from Dundee, my nemesis at many a competition and the three times Glenfiddich Fiddle Champion.
I honestly feel that winning the first competition in 1980 had a huge impact on my future; I loved winning and, having found something I was good at, I practiced hard. I couldn’t say that I was ever that discouraged by getting beaten in competition, it just made me persevere all the more.
The various competitions round Scotland became the social high points of my year and my practice would go into fifth gear in the couple of weeks running up to an event. I can’t stress enough the importance of practice in the mastering of the instrument; unfortunately there are no shortcuts to becoming a good player and only years of hard work and dedication can turn the novice into a master.
I’ve heard several people in the past who have had an almost rabid dislike for competition, holding the view that it goes against the whole ethos of ‘folk music’. However, I strongly disagree with this opinion and maintain that there’s nothing which gives a fiddler greater reason to practice and try to perfect their regional style than competitions. And after all, fiddle competitions have a very long and distinguished history in Scotland with both James Scott Skinner and Niel Gow being notable champions. Gow famously won a competition in Perth in 1745, which was open to the whole of Scotland; the adjudicator, who was a blind man named John McCraw, stated that he, “could distinguish Niel’s bow amang a hunder players’.”
Many of the readers will remember The Golden Fiddle Awards, which were sponsored by The Daily Record, and which I would argue was the biggest Scottish fiddle competition there’s ever been. Although there are several prestigious competitions today, there’s simply nothing that comes close to The Golden Fiddle Award in its heyday, and it says a lot about how things have changed since the early 80s when you consider that the senior champion at that time could expect not just front page newspaper coverage but also TV and radio engagements and a marked upturn in bookings. Sadly The Golden Fiddle is no more, but it was a daunting prospect for any fiddler, with not only the heats and the final to contend with but a tense build-up during the grand concert which was usually held before a packed house in a venue like The Usher Hall in Edinburgh. I competed in The Golden Fiddle finals on three occasions, in Glasgow, Edinburgh and Dundee, and for me it was always a long road home; however, I was never downbeat for long. The day before the finals in Dundee in 1982 I went head first over the handle-bars of my bike during a school cycle trip; fracturing my nose and badly ripping up my knees and elbows. My parents weren’t best pleased but I attended the competition anyway and, despite looking like I’d gone through a mincing machine, I still thought I was in with as good a chance as anyone else.
I don’t tend to get that nervous when I’m performing (though there are the occasions on which I do) but laterally I did get bothered when I was competing, especially at Glenfiddich when the muscles would tense up, my chest get tight and a cold sweat would run down the back of my legs. This was something which seemed to get worse as I got older and I would guess that as a younger player who was trying to prove myself I had a hunger to win and a desire to make a name for yourself, while later in my competition career and as a regular competition winner you then become one of the people to beat.
This brings me to an important point; competition is as much a test of character as a test of ability and the competitor who can cope with the stress and pressure will always be in with a shout. There have been a number of times as an adjudicator where I’ve been surprised at the poor performance of ‘the favourite’ and I can certainly attest to the fact that at many a championship I came off stage thinking I’d played far better at home in the kitchen the previous night. The thing is, competition should not be the end in itself but should be the means to an end and should be considered as a great way to develop as a player and assist in making your reputation.
The year I won The Glenfiddich Fiddle championship at Blair Castle I had just become engaged the night before the competition – and to be perfectly honest my mind wasn’t really on the work at hand! However I was well practiced and, for the first time at Glenfiddich, carefree and relaxed; of course on this occasion I had also had just the right dose of Balvenie to bring me to the peak of condition (this is not to say that getting blind drunk is a good idea – it’s not!)
One year later and it was quite a different story, as I’d just gone through a fairly unpleasant break-up and, being at a low ebb, was completely unprepared for such an emotionally exhausting experience.
Looking back on these two Championships it seems very clear to me that being able to deal with the nerves and stress of competition is almost as important as being musically well prepared.
My days of competing are long gone now but I like to keep an eye on the competition scene to see who’s making a name for themselves and, of course, I also adjudicate the odd competition now and again; I’ve been one of the three judges at Glenfiddich on a couple of occasions now.
As someone who does adjudicate regularly I perhaps do have some basic advice for any budding fiddle competitors. Although being well turned out is never going to beat a masterful performance, I would say that being tidy and well turned out does create a good and memorable first impression; playing in competition is a little bit like serving an apprenticeship and making an effort for your audience is a habit worth cultivating.
Always pick repertoire which is well within your capabilities; a set of fairly straightforward, standard tunes played at a nice steady tempo and with good grasp of style and character will always for me beat a set of the most complicated, showy tunes played hell for leather. One of the worst decisions I made when competing was in deciding was to play Skinner’s classic hornpipe The Mathematician, as I went into The Glenfiddich only getting the tune right about 50% of the time in practice. I duly made an a*se of the tune and wished I’d played something I could cope with!
A point I mentioned earlier, and which ties in with my last comment, is that practice is essential and being well prepared will help you to cope with the inevitable nerves and stress.
Always wait for the adjudicator to give you a nod to begin playing, as I often find that I’m still writing up the previous competitor when the next one is ready to begin, and when you do start make sure you stand well to the front of the stage with the fiddle facing the judge; i.e. so that the sound is directed towards the judge.
It might seem a little obvious, but always make sure that you’re in tune before beginning; if you can’t tune your fiddle yourself, ask someone else, even the adjudicator.
If you are playing with an accompanist make sure that you get as much rehearsal with them as you possibly can; it will always make for a much tighter performance.
Make sure that when you put a set of tunes together that they are the type of tune requested and ‘Scottish’; on a number of occasions I’ve adjudicated competitors who have played pipe marches instead of strathspeys and Irish tunes instead of Scottish.
At the end of the day, competition is not the be all and end all and you should enjoy the music and take the opportunity to hear as many different players as possible; they all have something different to offer. If you can, try and track down recordings of some of the dreat players of the last century because in their playing you’ll hear the essence of our unique Scottish fiddle tradition and this can only have a positive influence on your own playing; players like Hector MacAndrew, Angus Cameron, Willie Hunter and Angus Grant are all good examples. Above all enjoy the music, it’s one of Scotland’s greatest national heirlooms and thankfully still a living tradition. And finally practice, practice, practice!
