I play a lever harp- also called a folk or Celtic harp. Historically, Celtic harps were strung with wire or gut. I’ve strung mine with nylon instead of sheep innards. I get enough sheep innards just sitting near the haggis at Robbie Burns Night 🙂
People tend to associate bagpipes with Celtic music as strongly as they do the Celtic harp. Clients planning Celtic themed events are prone to hiring both a harpist and piper, and may even want them to play together- often without advance notice of any kind. Given the tuning and volume differences, this can be a problem.
Gigging presents several challenges in addition to beer (see July 28th’s post). One of these is the unwieldiness of many instruments and gear. This can be extreme, and is why roadies exist . . . if we could afford them. As many of my readers have probably gathered, I play the harp: probably the pinnacle of musical unwieldiness. Today, I will discuss two of the main harp-gigging challenges: doors and llamas (yes, llamas).
First, doors. Doors and harps don’t tend to get along with each other very well. The harp I use for most gigs is a folk (lever) harp about 4 feet tall. Compared to a concert harp, this is nothing, but mostly I’m not comparing it to a concert harp. Most often, I’m comparing it to the flute, or the clarinet, or any of the other instruments I could have chosen that easily fit through doorways. There is an effective procedure for getting a harp through a doorway: you use one hand to support the harp’s weight, your other hand to keep the harp from swinging into the jam, your third hand to hold open the door that’s trying to close on you, your fourth hand to keep from stepping on your artistically long skirt- I think you see the problem.
Some gigging venues, however, have no doors to deal with, being, in fact, out-of-doors. This is where the llamas and other animals comes in. Flower-filled meadows are understandably popular for weddings, and mean less doors, but animals can be an issue. I have played a surprising number of weddings in llama pastures, which are particularly challenging in terms of where you can step. Also, with outdoor weddings, the guests often bring their dogs. I am very fond of animals, and they seem to know it, which means they all want to hang out with me, next to the harp. I played one wedding with a puppy asleep in my lap behind the sound box and a llama looking over my shoulder; I hadn’t the heart to dump the puppy, and the llama wasn’t budging. In my experience, however, the wildlife most dangerous to a harp is small children running loose after eating enough wedding cake to power a small town.
Despite the bulkiness, there are some significant advantages to playing the harp. It can be a major selling point, since it is a bit unusual and most people associate harps with beauty, peace, heaven etc. (“of course it sounds good- it’s a harp“). In fact, people in general seem so taken with the idea of a harp that I sometimes wonder whether I really even need to be able to play- I sometimes get the impression I could just sit there, with a harp, and still provide the atmosphere the client wants. I suppose that would be an easy job, but I prefer not to feel like an accessory to a piece of woodwork.
There are, of course, other issues associated with gigging with harps: bagpipes come to mind. But that will have to wait, because this post already too long. To those of you who actual read this far: Huzzah! You are amazingly cool!
