Brandon Vance: News

I've been composing some new tunes ... you can check out samples of "Pigasus"  by clicking on the Music link.  

I have arrived at Gartmore House, a lovely manor house west of Stirling at the gateway to the Trossachs.  I left at 4:30am yesterday from Seattle, and had a hard time sleeping, as the plane didn't pull into Iceland until 12am Pacific Time (7am Iceland Time).  I wrote a strathspey on the plane without my fiddle, which I don't usually do.  It most likely needs some adjusting.  For lack of a better title I've called it "Islenska," which is Icelandic for "Icelandic."  :-)    I also did a couple of easy Sudokus, which were given to me by the attractive redhead sitting next me, who was on vacation with her mother.  

I met Ed Pearlman at the Keflavik airport and we talked shop about fiddle music as well as some of the historical texts that we had both been reading in preparation for the trip.  The following is an interesting factoid about Scotland's legal history.  In most legal system's there can be only two possible outcomes of a trial: guilty or not guilty.  However, in the Scottish legal system there third possibility: not determined.  Apparently one of the only other countries to have this "undetermined" sentence is Israel.  

The flight to Glasgow (via Manchester) required us to go through customs again to get our passports stamped (I had to get it stamped two times at two different stations at Keflavik).  Once Ed and I arrived in Manchester (about a 2 hour trip from Iceland), we had to disembark the plane, go through security again, and get little passes to get back on the same plane for Glasgow (45min flight).  It was a lot of waiting in line, but Ed got out his mp3 player and we listened to some good tunes.  Once we got to Glasgow they wouldn't let us off the plane for 30 minutes.  Apparently, someone didn't communicate to ground control that an Icelandair flight from Manchester was flying in at 1:30pm.  Once we got out of the plane, we had to go through yet another security checkpoint, this time giving them detailed information about our intentions for coming to Scotland.  At this point Ed and I got separated, because he had to wait at the other side of the checkpoint for someone, and I realized too late that he wasn't coming.  

I got my passport stamped again, and retrieved my luggage at the the "baggage reclaim."  I was still waiting for Ed to get past the checkpoint, so I decided to christen my arrival in Scotland with a couple tunes: The Laird of Drumblaire, and John McNeil's Reel.  I think the only person left at the baggage reclaim was the currency exchange clerk, who seemed to enjoy it in a quiet, friendly sort of way.       

The following three poems are part of a short song cycle I'm putting together in memory of my three sisters who have passed away from a neurological disease called Batten Disease: Erin, Caitlin, and Meaghan.  This song cycle explores the cathartic process from grief to victory, through a hope in God. Though it is poetry, and as such is somewhat open to the interpretation of the audience, its message is strongly rooted in a personal hope in Jesus Christ.   

This poem is dedicated to my oldest sister, Erin.  I am currently in the process of writing music for four voices and "celtic" instruments/string quartet.  The final order is still to be determined, but this poem will probably be the finale. 

 

Awaken Hope and gather force

On thundering hooves of steel,

Come hard upon this black remorse

Which binds me where I kneel

 

Bright Eyes through darkness blaze the way,

While laughter shatters fetters,

And pain's fierce hounds are held at bay 

By Love's pure gift to debtors

 

As ghostly silence swirls beyond

In mountain sanctuary,

The snap of life-blood's icy bond 

Echos and seems to carry

 

The dragon breath of spring does slip

Heavily upon the glen,

Thawing winter's deathly grip

Resurrecting life again

 

A silver mist entwines about 

Clumped needles of myrtle green,

Each pierce a crystal beadlet stout, 

Shimmering an emerald sheen

 

Lamenting Pipes drone no more,

But cleave the skies in victory,

The dancer springs as once before

A fling for all Eternity.

 

~Mark Vance

This poem was written for my sister, Caitlin.  I've written a short madrigal-style choral piece for the poem, which will probably be the second "movement" of the song cycle.  -Brandon 

 

Born on a whistful wind

Weaving playfully upon the harper's strings,

The haunting melody of child-like laughter brings

A tear to weary eyes

 

Child of a cursed clan

Released from the shackles of our mortal life,

Drawn from the bowels of an existence of strife 

Into strong arms of Love

 

Spirit of freedom fly,

Mounted upon silver winged steeds of pure air

Marking passage by souls stirred in a wake of care,

A sense of hope renewed

 

~Mark Vance

I wrote this for Meaghan, the youngest of my sisters, and I'm planning to add it to two other poems written for the other girls by my father, Mark Vance.  This will most likely be the first movement  

 

Moonstruck Eyes entranced in wonder, 

Softly shimmering pale and blue;

Mirrors of that celestial body gently glowing, radiant, true

 

Outside bitter winds are biting,

Clawing at the cabin door;

Sleet and hail fiercely pounding hellish rhythms, more and more

 

Hark, the merry rant of fiddles,

Joyfully it fills the night;

Drawing near the weary traveler closer to the portal bright,

 

Look through the window and into the room,

Pale blue mirrors reflecting the gloom,

reflecting the light of the moon

 

Hark the merry rant of fiddles,

Joyfully it fills my ears

Drowning out my futile cries, confirming all my fears

 

Outside bitter winds are biting,

Clawing at the cabin door,

Here I stand, fiercely pounding desperate rhythms, more and more,

resigned to weeping,

tired and sore

 

~Brandon Vance

The Following is a poem that I wrote on the train from Glasgow to Skye.  I just wrote a ditty on the piano last night to go with it.  It's written in sort of a pub song style.  It should be sung with a Scottish accent, for sure :-)

 

Scottish Hospitality

 

From Armadale to Stirling Castle,

Never did I see or know

A lot so friendly as the folks in bonnie old Glasgow.

 

I come here nigh a for'ner

And leave a wee bit warmer,

I canne say I've ever felt this gentle touch before.

 

Perhaps a touch of melancholy

All wrapped up in youthful folly,

Puritans and heathens both are humans through and through.

 

So let us toast to health and peace

Before this life her bonds release,

Because, as Providence demands, we may not meet again.

 

 

                                                 ~Brandon Vance~

 

I had a wonderful time in Scotland! I got to meet a bunch of great musicians, including crossover keyboard player David McGuinnes, and some young fiddlers from the Borders, Jon Bews and Shona Mooney. One of the best evenings was the ceilidh (which literally translated means "conversation") with traditional Gaelic (pronounced Gah-lick) singer and language expert, Gillebride (Geel-leh-bree-jhe) MacMillan, at a wee totty Youth Hostel on Ranoch Muir. Some good times were had hiking around Dunkeld, where we visited Niel Gow's cottage and the famous "Birnam Oak," which is said to be 1,000 years old. In Inverness, we were met with the fine Scottish Hospitality of master Scots fiddler and host, Bruce MacGregor, at his own B&B called "Bogbain Farm." The food was great, Bruce's mini-concert both stunning and informative, and the following open jam session made it an evening to be remembered. More postings and pictures are sure to come, but things are so busy right now, I thought I'd just get something out there. Slainte Mhor, (the Jacobite's secret toast to Charlie, a variant on slainte bha, which means "good health")       ~Brandon~

Nothing tells a story of a country like its landscapes and its music. Next week, September 24th, along with Scottish Life Magazine music columnist Edward Scott Pearlman and company, I will be embarking on an 8-day walking tour of Scotland’s wild and romantic countryside punctuated by special musical notes and events.

18th century fiddler and composer Niel Gow was probably one of the most sought after Scottish musicians of his day. Playing at balls, weddings and other events, he traveled widely throughout Scotland, almost always walking. Today much of traditional Scottish music and dance is infused with Niel Gow’s tunes, as well as those of his sons. During this week we will travel Scotland the way Niel Gow traveled it, on foot. We’ll experience the music scene that reflects his influence and meet some Scotland’s finest musicians.

Our walk begins in the Loch Lomond and Trossachs National Park with its deep lochs, rugged hills and dark forests. Home to the legendary 17th century outlaw, Rob Roy, the unspoiled beauty of this area has been inspiring imaginations for centuries. From here our journey takes us to Loch Ossian in the southern Highlands for a taste of Scottish wilderness. This dark lake surrounded by endless hills and open moorlands should provide a uniquely remote setting for walking during the day and enjoying music in the evening. Continuing on to Perthshire we head to the village of Dunkeld. Know as "Big Tree Country", this area of soft landscapes and stately old trees was home to Niel Gow. Finally heading toward Inverness, we will stop for one last walk in the mountains of Cairngorms National Park. Encompassing the area of Strathspey, this is Britain’s largest national park.

Musical guests Gillebride Macmillan, Bruce MacGregor and others will top off our hikes with an unforgettable experience of vistas and music. This trip is about what is timeless, enduring, and unfailingly inspiring: our natural world and music ... Niel Gow’s Scotland!