The world is divided into two I think. Just as there are Marmite haters and Marmite lovers (I'm very much the latter by the way), there are die hard Bellowhead fanatics and those who harbour feelings of complete indifference towards this 11 strong force of musical nature. I'm very much the former. Why? Well I'm so glad you asked...
Once upon a time I was 15 and struggling against the realms of conformity within classical music that it turned out one rather needed to pay attention to if one wanted to get to specialist music school and conservatoire. One of my most abiding memories of school music lessons involves being told in no uncertain terms to add a third into my chord. I loved the sound of my drone-like open 5ths consisting of a repeated D and A, but it wouldn't do - it didn't work by the GCSE rules of 'classical music'. It seemed that the sound world of my childhood, of the Corries, Capercaille, Robert Burns, and Sea shanties had to be entirely separate from the world of cello and composition if I wanted to get it 'right'....oh the struggles of life...
A chance visit to the Wickham Folk festival that year (perhaps it was 2008?) changed everything. I remember being blown away by the pure joy and musicianship on stage, Show of Hands, The Spooky Men's Chorale, Three Daft Monkeys, to name but a few. I loved it. Instead of uniform rows of concert goers, there were beer swigging dancers, whooping and reacting to their hearts content. Here was proof that there was a burgeoning sphere of 'traditional' music out there.
And then Bellowhead burst on stage (well in as much as 11 people trying to fit on a small stage can). Quite literally tearing up the rule book here was a whole new world where classical training could inform not hinder this music; if Ed Neuhauser, the Helicon player extraordinaire, could go to the Guildhall and play with the RPO and WNO as well as being a folky, well then, why couldn't I?!
I achieved my dream of the Purcell School and the Royal Academy; I have had the most incredible 7 years of high quality music making and proved to myself that anything is possible. But at what cost? My cello is my voice and I quite frankly struggle to live without this means of expressing myself but I know that I am not alone among musicians of my generation in starting to question in a slightly jaded manner why are we doing what we're doing in the way we are doing it? The classical industry is at a time of flux - we must evolve in order to survive - like any music tradition. Yet forces of institutional control still seem to insist on stamping the autonomy from classical musicians in audition, in exams, in competition...all scenarios where we must play just so. There should be an authentic, correct way to play Bach (although curiously no-one seems to have quite hit upon what that is yet...).
This week, as I prepare for my final recital, I have been guilty of one or two such glum ponderings. I am endeavouring to learn to play my chosen programme in such a way as to conform to the panels expectations in order to get my degree. To find that fine line between conservatism and individual interpretation. To get the width of my vibrato just so, and not to shift too expressively because I know for a fact some of the panel won't subscrribe to that school of playing. Ehlers-Danlos is choosing this month to really not like me - my capacity for sleep is endless, and the energy required to play the cello is enormous - not to mention the subluxing fingers I get as a reward. And all to play music that I'm not really sure I want to be playing any more. Yet without playing, I lose my voice.
And then I dragged myself down to say farewell to Bellowhead. I have somehow ended up saying farewell three times on their farewell tour, such was my desire to soak them up and say...farewell! Yet this really was goodbye. And I came away a changed person. Not for the first time I should add. I flit in and out of Bellowhead/Spiers and Boden periods. Yet whenever I return to an album, whether I'm in the shower, making some food, in the need of a musical breath of fresh air, or maybe just a good ol' boogie, I'm reminded what it is I love about music. And I came away on Wednesday reinvigorated. Watching Spiers, Boden, and Sweeney in their fiddling antics I had the revelation of how lucky I am, to have access to this incredible world ; a world of music practitioners - I have the knowledge needed to make, and more importantly share, music. And that is what I should be doing - playing music, not just playing the cello. The joy of Bellowhead never comes across more fully than in live performance, and channelling some of that spontaneity with joy and integrity into Schumann is consequently this weekends challenge.
But more importantly, in the lead up to my final recital I am not just playing Respighi and Schumann. I am transcribing for the first time in years - working out some 'folk' material on the cello and piping in between. Why? Because it gives me another reason to pick up my cello and enjoy the journey for something other than Wellesz each day. Incidentally, if you've made it this far - go look up Egon Wellesz the Austrian composer and absolute neglected legend - actually maybe I'll dedicate a whole entry to him with my musicology hat firmly on - fair warning! Food for thought...
Each time I return to Bellowhead I am reminded of the joy to be found in sharing music, and why I am doing it. It is they who inspired me to 'swim upstream', to apply for my dream masters in Traditional Music rather than continuing down the path of a classical cellist. A path that would be perhaps detrimental physically for me personally but one which was all mapped out before me and incredibly hard to turn my back on. Watching these incredibly talented multi-instrumentalists has kept me going at the pipes as well as the cello, in the knowledge that it doesn't have to be seen as watering down my talents. The day I got my offer of a place at Sheffield for said masters, was perhaps one of the best of my life - for the simple reason that it represented me taking back control of my music making.
I will forever be grateful to the members of Bellowhead for boisterously bursting onto stage and into my life and for sharing themselves with so many people. For turning my preconceptions about instrumental boundaries and genres upside down, and jumping on stereotypes. For joyously reinvigorating and returning my love of music whenever I have grown weary of the rigours of a rehearsal schedule, and for showing us all a whole new meaning to the concept of 'folk music'.
Most of all I am grateful to them for giving us all a jolly good time over the last 12 years. And so as 11 life affirming musical magicians conclude their Bellowhead journey this weekend, here's to the future - both to them and to me! Thank you, thank you, thank you.