My sisters love the bagpipes. Friends love the pipes. People I don’t know in the park or at a gig tell me they love the pipes. As a piper I am always glad to hear it.
But there is a kind of music I play that not everyone loves. It’s called ceol mor, which means great music. It’s also called piobaireachd (pronounced “pibroch” or “pea-brock”) which means, simply, “piping.” It was the original great highland bagpipe music.
It is referred to as the “classical” music of pipes. In form, piobaireachd comprises a theme (the “ground” or urlar) followed by a structured set of variations with increasingly complex ornamentation, ultimately returning to the simple theme.
Most of the time when someone hires a piper, they’re looking to hear ceol beag – “little music” – i.e. the dance tunes: jigs, hornpipes, strathspeys, reels. Marches are popular, and a few slow airs are always nice.
The exception to the above is funerals. When someone calls a piper for a funeral, they’re usually looking for a hymn or a melancholy air or lament. Sometimes that’s all they want – one, maybe two tunes. Amazing Grace is a familiar and regular choice, as is the spiritual Going Home. Those active about their Scottish heritage might request the traditional Flowers of the Forest. I’ve never been asked for a piobaireachd.
About piobaireachd, one of my sisters says, “I don’t get what you get from that.”
Now I admit that piobaireachd, like scotch whisky, is an acquired taste. Except when it’s not.
One Friday I had been asked to play at a memorial service. It was a particularly difficult time for the family as it was the second funeral of a sibling or in-law within a week. The service was at Christ the King Cathedral, a beautiful stone church in Atlanta. My charge was to play for 25 minutes prior to the service as mourners arrived, and then for a bit afterwards. There were a few particular requests, with the rest of the music left to me.
When one has latitude and time to fill on a somber occasion, there is the opportunity to include a piobaireachd in the music program. So it was that Friday. I began with a few more or less familiar laments, as various mourners arrived and entered the church.
Having a good bit of time before the start of the service, I decided to play the piobaireachd Lament for Donald of Laggan, a classic written some 350 years ago. (As piobaireachds go, it’s a short one.)
I checked the tuning of the drones, then began. From the corner of my eye I noticed a small group of people who approached and stood attentively while I played. It was unusual that they did not walk by and into the church, but stood still while I played the entire piece, eight-and-a-half minutes in length.
When I finished, I looked over and at once recognized the woman who had hired me, by her description of her red hair—sister of the deceased. It was the family. Thanking me they proceeded into the church. When the service ended, I played two specifically requested tunes as folks exited the church.
As there again was extended time to play, I elected to play another piobaireachd. This time, I chose my favorite: Lament for Mary MacLeod, another 350+ year-old composition, this one much longer at ~13 minutes. It is a beautiful pibroch.
As I played, a brother of the deceased separated from the gathering and moved around the corner to the side doorway. From my vantage point I could see both the congregated friends and family, and the side of the church, where he was. Huddling by the side entrance out of sight of the crowd, he broke down, hid his face in his handkerchief and sobbed. A catharsis.
The piobaireachd had served.