New song – Everyday Adventures

Here’s a song that came to me a few weeks ago and which sounds a bit like it comes from a musical – maybe I should write one 🙂

Everyday Adventures
Wherever you go, whatever you do,
There are adventures waiting round the corner for you.
So open your eyes, your ears and your mind,
And you might be surprised by what you find.

Watch the birds, bees and flowers,
Not the minutes and hours
And take time to think and wander and dream.
Let go your regrets and worries and frets
And let your heart fill with joy.

Here’s a recording:

Fy filodfa gerddorol

Mae’r nifer o offerynnau yn fy filodfa gerddorol wedi cynyddu eleni, ac mae gen i 30 o offerynnau bellach. Yr offeryn mwyaf newydd ydy piano, sy wedi cyrraedd Dydd Gwener diwetha. Piano ail law ydy o, a dw i wedi ei brynnu o eBay o ddyn yn Salford.

Ar hyn bryd mae gen i piano, iwcalili, mandolin, bouzouki, bodhrán, xaphoon, clarinét, casŵ, ffliwt, dau gitâr, dau harmonica, a cryn dipyn o recorderau, chwibanau ac ocarinas.

Fy filodfa gerddorol / My musical menagerie

My musical menagerie has grown quite a bit this year and now includes 30 instruments. The newest addition was a piano, which arrived last Friday. It’s a second hand piano that I bought on eBay from a bloke in Salford.

The menagerie currently consists of: a piano, a ukulele, a mandolin, a bouzouki, a bodhrán, a xaphoon, a clarinet, a kazoo, a flute, two guitars, two harmonicas, and quite a few recorders, whistles and ocarinas.

New song – Make the most of it while it lasts

Siliwen Road, Bangor with snow

I wrote a new song today entitled “Make the most of it while it lasts”. The beginnings of the tune came to me this morning when I was brushing my teeth, and the first few lines came to me while I was washing the dishes after lunch. I looked out of the window and saw that it was raining heavily, and decided to write something about the rain. This is what I came up with:

Make the most of it while it lasts
When the rain falls from the sky
Don’t you fret, don’t you cry
Just put on your boots and go outside.
Jump in puddles and go wild.
And release your inner child.
Then you won’t feel so blue any more.

When the temperature is falling
And the weather is appalling
It’s good to stay indoors sometimes.
To read a book, or watch a film
Or sing a song, or play some tunes
Or just to sit by the fire and doze.

So when the winter time has come
And you’re feeling rather glum
Don’t forget to smile and sing and dance.
Paint some pictures, bake some cakes
Talk to friends, skate on lakes,
And make the most of it while it lasts.

Here’s a recording:

Lazy language learning

I’ve realised that I’m a lazy language learner. I don’t spend every spare moment studying and practising languages, and don’t usually try to learn as much of a language as possible in a short time. When I go for a walk I like to be in the moment sensing what there is to sense, rather than listening to language lessons or podcasts, though I do do that occasionally. I also like to just think and daydream at times.

If I’m planning a trip to another country, or expect to meet people who speak a different language, I’ll learn some of it before then. For example, I spent two months learning Italian before going on holiday to Italy. I was able to have very basic conversations and could understand and read the language to some extent, but was nowhere near fluent. Otherwise I generally learn languages out of interest, and because I feel a connection to them, to where they’re spoken and/or to people who speak them. I spend a lot of time listening to online radio, podcasts, audiobooks and other audio material, reading texts aloud, learning songs and poems, and sometimes writing blog posts and having conversations in speech or writing. I’m usually in no hurry and try to absorb the languages as much as possible, and look up words and grammatical constructions I can’t work out from context. If I find some aspects of learning tedious, I try a different approach. After quite a few years I might get to the stage where I can understand and read almost everything, and speak and write a language fairly well, though my listening and reading tend to better than my speaking, which doesn’t bother me at all.

I’m interested in all languages and in the process of language learning and acquisition, however if I don’t feel any particular connection with of a language and had no plans to visit places where it’s spoken, I don’t usually get very far with it. I’ve learnt a few languages to try out language courses and chose ones I hadn’t studied before, and soon gave up on them for these reasons.

When I’m learning classical pieces on the guitar I find some parts of them more difficult than others. One approach I use is to play those parts over and over until they are embedded in my muscle memory, though this can be somewhat tedious. Another approach I use is to play them slowly note by note observing where my fingers are and where they need to be and anticipating each position in my mind. In this way I find out which particular bits I need to focus on the most. When playing a whole piece I tend to worry about the tricky bits and expect to get them wrong, which I often do, though when I manage not to think about them, they sometimes go smoothly.

This step-by-step approach might work with some aspects of languages. For example, if you’re finding particular words difficult to pronounce, you could try breaking them down into phonemes and working out where the problem is. Then you could concentrate on getting the problematic sound(s) right.

Noodling

Recently I came across the word noodling which in the context referred to singing an improvised sort melody made up of nonsense syllables over the top of a song. I hadn’t encountered this usage before so remembered it. I thought this sort of thing would be called improvisation or scat singing. Have you heard of noodling use in this way.

According to the OED, a noodle can be a stupid or silly person; a slang term for the head; long string-like pasta-type stuff; or a trill or improvisation on an instrument (mainly in jazz).

According to Wikipedia noodling “is fishing for catfish using only bare hands, practiced primarily in the southern United States.” Other names for this activity include catfisting, grabbling, graveling, hogging, dogging, gurgling, tickling and stumping. I’ve heard of tickling for trout, but never of noodling for catfish, or those other terms.

The Free Dictionary lists a number of noodle related phrases:

– to noodle around = to wander around; to fiddle around with something
– to noodle over something = to think about something.
– to use one’s noodle = to use one’s head/brain

Have you heard or do you use any of these expressions? If not, what equivalents might you use?

Spoken language is a special type of music

According to an article I came across yesterday music might be what enables us to acquire language, and spoken language could be thought of as a special type of music.

When acquiring language babies first hear speech as “an intentional and often repetitive vocal performance” and they learn to hear and mimic its emotional and musical components, such as rhythm and pitch, before they start to learn and focus on meaning. Being able to distinguish the different sounds of speech seems to be an essential first step for the acquisition of language. Newborn babies are able to distinguish phonemes of any language they hear, but gradually focus on the language(s) they hear most often.

The researchers also found connections between how the brain processes consonants and how it recognize the timbre of different instruments – both processes that require rapid processing.

These findings lend support to the idea that singing came before speech, as discussed in The Singing Neanderthals: The Origins of Music, Language, Mind and Body by Steven Mithen.

I find that it helps to spend time listening to a language to tune your ears to its sounds, and to mimic those sounds, even though you don’t understand what they mean at first – a bit like a baby. If you spend plenty of time listening to a language, when you learn words and phrases it’s easier because they already sound familiar. I probably heard hundreds of hours of Taiwanese while I was in Taiwan, for example, so it sounds familiar, even though I don’t understand much. If I decided to learn more of it, I would find it easier than a language I haven’t heard so much.

Some would call this passive listening, but it isn’t passive – your brain is busily working away trying to make sense of all these strange sounds you’re filling it with and looking for patterns. You can’t learn a language simply by listening – conversational interactions with others are also needed – but I think listening is an important part of the learning process.

Clwb Uke Bangor Uke Club

Bangor Uke Club (from left to right - Pete, Jane, Matt, Doug and Simon) preparing to play in the fireplace of the Vaynol Arms in Nant Peris

Neithiwr yn y Vaynol Arms yn Nant Peris fel rhan o Ffair Nant, mi wnaeth y Clwb Uke Bangor perfformio yn gyhoeddus am y tro cyntaf. Mi wnaethon ni chwarae cymysgedd o ganeuon yn gynnwys Country Roads, House of the Rising Sun, Dark Moon Rising, Cockles & Mussels, Go West, I Wanna Be Like You, ayyb. Yn Go West mi waethon ni canu North Wales yn lle Go West, ac roedd y cynulleidfa yn hoffi hyn, ac fel encôr mi wnaethon ni canu Delilah unwaith eto. Ro’n ni’n argraffu y trefnyddion ac mi wnaethon nhw ein gwahodd ni dod yn ôl i’r ffair y flwyddyn nesaf.

Last night in the Vaynol Arms in Nant Peris as part of the Nant Fair, the Bangor Uke Club performed in public for the first time. We played a mixture of songs, including Country Roads, House of the Rising Sun, Dark Moon Rising, Cockles & Mussels, Go West, I Wanna Be Like You, and so on. In Go West we replaced Go West with North Wales, which went down well with the audience, and we sang Delilah again as an encore. The organisers were impressed and have invited us back for the fair next year.

Sing for Water London

This weekend I’ll be in London for Sing for Water London, a concert featuring a massed choir made up of members of 50 or so choirs from all over the UK with the aim of raising money from WaterAid.

So if you happen to be in London on Sunday afternoon, please come along to the Scoop next to City Hall on the south bank of the Thames at 3pm to listen to and support us.

We’ll be singing songs in English, Zulu, Baga and Georgian.

My huckleberry friend

Photo of huckleberries

The phrase, my huckleberry friend, appears in one of the songs I’m learning at moment – Moon River. At a choir rehearsal last night one of the sopranos said that the word huckleberry means ‘a person who is right for a job’. I’d come across the word before but had never thought what it might mean.

According to World Wide Words the phrase ‘I’m your huckleberry’ means that you are “just the right person for a given job, or a willing executor of some commission.”

Huckleberries are small, dark, sweet berries of plants in the family Ericaceae, in two closely related genera: Vaccinium and Gaylussacia [source]. They were originally called hurtleberries, a dialect word for bilberry, which they resembled, by settlers in the Americas, and this word later became huckleberry. By the early 19th century the word huckleberry was associated with things humble and minor, and tiny amounts. This association was used by Mark Twain for his character Huckleberry Finn – a boy “of lower extraction or degree” than Tom Sawyer.

In the 1830s people started to metaphorically compare huckleberries and persimmons, which are much larger, to describe things that are somewhat beyond one’s reach or abilities. Somehow the word huckleberry also became associated with helpers and assistants, and also with insignificant and nice people.

According to the Online Etymology Dictionary, the word huckleberry is probably an alteration of the Middle English hurtilbery (whortleberry), from the Old English horte (whortleberry). The OED says that whortleberry (/ˈhwɜːt(ə)lbɛrɪ/) is a South-western (England) dialect form of hurtleberry, which is derived from the word hurt (bilberry), which possibly comes from the French heraldic term heurt(e) (small Azure balls) or from the French word heurt (mark left by a blow).

Chaos

I came up with this song this week while contemplating the phrase ‘my hovercraft is full of eels‘, as you do, and thinking what other things might be filled with animals. That phrase doesn’t feature in the song, but there are plenty of other similarly useful phrases in it.

The tune came to me as I was writing it, and I later discovered that it was similar to the tune to the song ‘Give me the bus fare to Laxey‘, which I heard for the first time on Sunday in Ramsey, and probably to other songs. I wrote quite a bit of if while in Laxey and waiting for a bus to Ramsey.

The song is about those who cause chaos wherever they go. I haven’t identified any particular people, but you probably know one or two like that, or maybe you’re one of them.

Chaos
The attic is overflowing with aardvarks
The bath is brimful of baboons
The curtains are covered in custard
And mustard drips from all the spoons

The table is teaming with turnips
And the potatoes are eyeing the peas
The cushions are crammed with creamcrackers
And the cat’s eaten all of the cheese.

There are dogs playing poker in the pantry
And smoking fine Cuban cigars
As soon as they run out of money
They’ll be racing around in toy cars

The sink is swimming with penguins
And the fridge is flowing with fudge
There are ferrets fooling round in the cellar
And the carpets have all turned to sludge

I should have learnt my lesson
I should never have left them alone
I only popped out for ten minutes
And look what they’ve done to my home

Wherever they’ve been there is chaos
And wherever they are there is more
I only popped out for ten minutes
And now I can’t get through the door.

Here’s a recording:

When I’ve worked out the chords, I’ll record it with accompaniment.