Excerpts from Mighty Muso - Musings behind Violetta's adventures for adult minds and readers.
Learning that fairies can also be bad is very sad, I know. They seem so sweet, and tu-tu’s can only be cute, but just think of Tinkerbelle, or the black swan ballerina in Swan Lake. A dichotomy between good and bad is often represented within the one creature; and Ireland isn’t the only country with special musical folk.
England has pixies, there are Icelandic Elves and trolls; Sirens, and mermaids, have tricked sailors across many oceans, and of course there is the legend of Beezelbub. There are creatures like Fauns or Satyrs often appearing playing flutes, and even the instrument itself can hold superstition. In Scotland a jaw-harp (or jew-harp) can be used to call the devil, in France, this is a pipe, and in the Middle East the violin itself was referred to as a ‘magic box.’ Of course, we know the Devil played the fiddle. He went down to Georgia to do it. "Devil Comes Back to Georgia" feat. Mark O'Connor with Daniels, Cash, Tritt and Marty Stuart
In fact, that youtube video features Johnny Cash, and like many, he encountered the devil at the crossroads—a musical fellow by some accounts. According to French legend, the devil comes out at night, playing his fiddle and making the skeleton’s dance. The grim reaper, too, bears a warning of death by playing a Totontanse (dance of the dead) on a pair of human bones, and if you want to imagine what that would sound like, ask Camile Saint-Saens. His Dance Macabre paints a pretty distinct picture on the xylophone.
Even more disturbing, the violin developed a reputation for being “ensouled’ with spirits. Human intestines were said to be used as strings—or Paganini’s murdered lovers' left limb—and voices could be heard emerging from the instrument. Not like Ludwig Maggiorino the IV’s jovial discourse; but the wailing and screaming of a woman.
We’ve heard violins can sound like a cat being strangled, so I suppose it isn’t a far leap. but it does sound a little superstitious.
Musical interlude alert: Stevie Wonder’s Superstition on the magical-sounding Chinese Erhu.Stevie Wonder - Superstition on the Erhu with Shamisen.
Anyway, music and superstition have often gone hand in hand. As a Tasmanian, I can also say, I am living in one of the few parts of the world where we actually have our own devil. Yep, the Tasmanian Devil, earning their name for their black fur and their ability to shriek at night-time, terrifying campers. It was also ‘Friday the 13th’ the other day and someone I was speaking to, was asking if I was suspicious. Although she slightly mistook the word, I wondered; am I superstitious?
Well, I do play the crow game when I see one flying past. You know the one where you make a ring with your fingers, and break it if you see one crow, not two. Three isn’t too bad I think, or four, but usually I break it for those too. You see, the poem goes;
One is for sorrow, two is for joy. Three for a letter and four for a boy.
I know. It is a little odd.
I also don’t deliberately stand under ladders. When I see a black cat I sometimes divert my path, and I often find myself touching wood, even at the thought of something bad happening. Though when it comes to performing, I don’t believe I have too many superstitions; although I do carry around three pairs of rosary beads in my violin case...
Anyway, I’m not alone. Some of the things that people religiously do before a performance go as follows:
Eating a banana—lots of musicians swear by this, as a calming strategy. Possibly down to the potassium. However, if you do apply this particular remedy, remember not to forget about it and leave it in your violin case where it can squash all over your Rode caprices.
Running, jumping, or doing twenty star-jumps—basically anything that gets the heart rate rising so that when you step on stage, you aren’t immediately struck by the jitters.
Fist pumping/singing a shanty—these may seem disparate, but both are along the theme of group encouragement.
Calling someone—usually a loved one or family member to buoy the spirits.
Lucky charms and talismans—like me, some people keep sentimental objects with them, use a particular ligature or wear a particular pair of socks.
Rituals—tuning a certain amount of times, using an exact number of swipes of a particular rosin, waking up at a certain time, or eating a quarter pounder with cheese.
Getting emotional—yelling and swearing, or laughing can help.
Praying or reciting spiritual intentions— like ‘lion, lion burning bright.’
Then, of course, some people’s pre-concert preparations are so precious, they can’t tell anyone what they do. And who can blame performers for thinking that way? Even walking on stage is immensely difficult and fraught with anxiety. Have you ever experienced that sensation of time slowing down, and everything seeming absolutely silent for those first few steps? It’s a scary moment before people begin applauding, but thankfully they do.
They are there to hear you after all.
According to Flautist Tim Munro; ‘When we enter a concert hall, we lay our scepticism at the door, sit at the feet of our shaman, and are healed and cursed and brought together. As singer-songwriter Larkin Grimm writes, “Music is a very useful and safe way to practise magic.” And so we are all, audiences and performers alike, complicit in this communal superstition, in this glorious “magical thinking” of the concert hall.’
‘When we…’ Munro, T. (2016) ‘Very Superstitious: The quirks and foibles of the musical pros’. Limelight Magazine, 9th September.
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