Petestack Blog

Rob Morsberger was a musician of rare talent, writing and performing catchy, literate, eclectic and impeccably-crafted songs standing comparison to the very best of singer/songwriters. He was also a dear friend from Edinburgh University days, much loved and admired by many over his 53 years and very much in all our thoughts right now.

Some things we shared all those years ago still seem as clear as if they were yesterday. It was Rob who first brought Paul Simon without Art Garfunkel to my attention, and the early Simon solo work first heard in Rob’s Edinburgh flat that I still love best of all Simon’s output. I’ve no idea how many times I’ve played the tape of Randombach 3, an early dance score commission where Rob met the task of matching the rhythms of existing Bach movements with true style (shades of neo-classical Stravinsky and American minimalism but still above all Morsberger!) and recorded with Dick Lee and Will Schofield. While I recall him being justly proud of the first two movements, he seemed less satisfied with the concluding third (which he’d had to get finished comparatively quickly), but yet its lighter character with cheery clarinet theme for Dick still strikes me today as a fitting foil to what precedes it. And who could forget the gigs with Steve Kettley, with a Music Faculty concert of 8 December 1983 producing the uncomprehending Scotsman review comment ‘Steven Kettley and Rob Mossberger [sic] made improvisations for saxophone and piano, a form of dexterous doodling which is best listened to in small doses’ (but I could have listened to all night and think Rob, despite being a little perplexed and hurt by that bizarre assessment, might now find it funny in retrospect!). But, above all, my abiding memory of Rob back then has to be the camping trip we made to Glen Finnan in 1984 where we retreated unceremoniously after the ‘Night of the Midge’ (well, not just one midge!) to my aunt’s house at Spean Bridge…

While we didn’t see each other for many years after Rob moved to New York, we continued to correspond sporadically by post (remember that?) and I still have his letters, with one starting ‘Dear Ratfink [used affectionately, believe it or not!], I’m trying to do some composing right now, but as it is not really getting anywhere I’m taking a break to write to you instead’ and another (headed ‘ROBERT SECRET PRODUCTIONS’ and starting ‘Dear Pete – Ratfink 1′) announcing the birth of his first-born Ben, who’s now grown up but I’ve never met. And then we sadly drifted out of touch till I found him again (after years of regretful wondering) on Facebook in January 2011. But just months later he was diagnosed with the brain tumour that’s now killed him, responding with true grace and fortitude in a burst of creativity to get projects finished, tackle new ones while he still could and provide for his family.

His farewell Edinburgh concert of 5 December 2012 (at which Steve Kettley also played, Jenni Whiteside sang and I also caught up with the long-lost Antonia) and breakfast meeting with him, Jenni and Barbara the following morning are now treasured memories, and I remain grateful to my employers for letting me go and the snowy roads for staying clear enough to let me to get down from the Highlands for that and back without too much hassle. His songs remain both hugely enjoyable and deeply thought-provoking, with the inspiration behind some being obvious (the Stevenson reference of Modestine striking me on the way home from that trip), Rob having to point me in the right direction for others (my attempts to link ‘Natalia’ and ‘revolution’ having failed to pin down Alexander Herzen for Where is the Song) and some perhaps destined to remain forever mysterious now he’s no longer here to put me right.

So goodbye, Rob, and may your family and many friends take comfort from knowing there are people worldwide thinking of you and yours, with yet more surely about to start discovering your wonderful body of work.

With love
P

While it may come as a (counter-intuitive?) surprise to some that Scottish winters can be too dry to leave your precious flutes, pipes etc. simply sitting out in the open (indoors, of course!), cold northern climes aren’t necessarily much safer for them than southern deserts, and preparing suitable storage conditions for my new Dave Copley keyed flute had been exercising my mind from the moment I’d ordered it in Solomon Blackwood instead of the anticipated Delrin. So, having arrived (through testing and evolution) at a solution I’ve been happy with for a good couple of months now, I’d been planning to write about it here before unexpectedly finding myself prompted into describing it (like last year’s Whistle Rolls) on the Chiff and Fipple forums first. And this is most (but not all) of what I’ve written, with the full discussion accessible from any of the links:

Posted: 15 Mar 2013, 08:41 (re. the concept):

Sounds a bit like my plastic crate system, which I’ve been meaning to describe for a while but haven’t got round to yet. So just have to let these photos speak for themselves right now, noting that the top (dry) layer takes the smallpipes when I don’t want them in the bottom (wet) layer…

Posted: 15 Mar 2013, 18:58 (re. the crates):

These are by AUER, though I found them on (and ordered from) Solent Plastics. Not cheap at £98.16 for the two crates, lid and delivery, but exactly what I wanted (big enough at 800x600mm to take the pipes whole, and straight-sided when most/all of the alternatives tapered wastefully) when nothing else I saw was. (NB they also do smaller ones at 600x400mm and 400x300mm with a range of depths in all sizes.)

(re. achieved humidity and method):

It was pretty steady at low 50s to low 60s till we had a prolonged spell of very cold, dry weather in February, at which point I stuck in a second shallow tray of water (like the one with the sponge) to keep it there. And now the weather’s been changing again, I’m typically getting 60 to 65% with the extra tray still there and happy with that. (I was getting 75% testing the concept over Christmas with much smaller crates before I got the AUER ones, but was never going to keep that set-up when it was really too ‘wet’ for the pipes, couldn’t take the bass drone whole and would also have required multiple crates and hygrometers.)

I’m not humidifying the shallower top crate, which is there to give the pipes a break from the main ‘chamber’. But I’ve just turned on the little hygrometer you see in there to check (the one in the main crate is on all the time) and it’s saying 39% RH when I’ve got 60% down below, which (noting that this one always reads slightly lower than the other) suggests I’m getting about 20% benefit from the water in the big box. (One reason I rejected ‘converting’ a cupboard/closet was that the space proved too big to humidify easily by such simple means, whereas the other smaller crates were almost too easy!)

Regarding the actual ‘humidifiers’, yes, two deep tubs and a shallow tray with sponge (+ the extra similar tray still in there). Still experimenting with tubs/trays/sponges and think the sponge seems to do something, but would probably rate water surface area most important of all. These shallow trays/boxes came from IKEA (fortuitously spotted when there for something else!) and I’m still planning to get two more of the larger ones (£1.50 each) with room in the deep crate for another ‘layer’.

Probably also worth pointing out that the handle slots on the crates provide useful ventilation without giving the water too much to do and the whole thing was ‘designed’ to be user-friendly where neither individually humidified boxes nor humidifying whole rooms really appealed to me at all. For comparison to other locations/climates, we’re talking West Highlands of Scotland, there’s another hygrometer in the living room currently reading 34% which has been as low as 31% in the couple of months or so I’ve had the whole thing going, and I’m pretty happy with it all.

Posted: 15 Mar 2013, 19:45 (re. humidity again):

While you get different recommendations from different makers, I’m working from Dave Copley’s ’55% to 80%’, but aiming for low 60s because that seems to be suiting flutes, recorders and pipes alike where observation’s maybe suggesting low 50s for these pipes alone.

Posted: 17 Mar 2013, 13:08 (re. 40% RH being ‘too low’):

IMHO, yes, that’s too low. While numerous woodwinds had ‘survived’ in my house(s) for 30+ years without targeted humidification, it’s obvious now (having largely reversed a number of loose joints and some ovalling bores) that most were too dry. And the ferrule on the common stock of my new pipes came loose (surprising their maker, who built them just up the road!) after just a few weeks in my living room at c.40%.

(re. risk of mould at higher humidities):

While I’m theorising largely from my own observations here, I’d say you also have to consider ventilation and would personally think sustained moist storage in airtight boxes/bags more risky than higher humidities per se. When my new Copley flute (NB my first with lined head!) spent several weeks in a smaller (but still vented) ‘test’ crate at c.75% RH, it might sometimes have looked/felt just slightly ‘clammy’ when taken out (or was that the older recorders I’d been consciously re-humidifying in a smaller, not quite sealed box?). But nothing ever feels like that in my big vented crate even with it (as now, with a change in the weather and the extra water still in there) sometimes pushing 70% RH, and I’d never be keeping the pipes in there (leather bag, tweed cover and all) if I thought it ‘wet’ enough to be risking mould. So I guess what I’m suggesting is that the highest ‘safe’ humidity probably varies with size/ventilation of immediate environment (eg the various crates and boxes I’ve tried) and you can go higher with bigger, better-ventilated boxes.

Having got back to whistle and flute playing in a big way last year, this year’s addition of Scottish smallpipes to my jack-of-all-trades (master-of-none!) musical armoury was still quite accidental. True, I nearly ordered a basic set (with chanter and drone as a double bore in one piece of wood made, I think, by a guy called Ian MacGregor we used to meet at Clachaig gigs) a good twenty years ago before buying an accordion instead (!), but I’m blaming Richard Cook’s Double Scottish Smallpipes videos (seen on 27 February) for rekindling my latent interest in what I described then as ‘a way that’s sure to have consequences’ (and very quickly did!)…

So I started researching smallpipes, joined the Lowland and Borders Pipers’ Society, was lucky enough to get one of their Richard Evans practice sets on hire straightaway and, with the enthusiastic endorsement of top piper Dougie Pincock (now a Highland music colleague of mine), went to see Ross Calderwood at Lochalsh Pipes about a set of my own.

Now, Ross is a true enthusiast, interested in a wide variety of music as well as passionate about piping, and (having had ample time to hone his craft at a serious ‘hobby’ level before quite recently starting to market it more) working with native Scottish hardwoods to make some of the most attractive and best-value pipes out there. So we talked about pipes and woods for hours, with the result being a kind offer to specify two different woods for my combo set (leaving the final choice till the time of collection), and I left knowing that I’d be coming back to choose between the local laburnum that first caught my eye or the very attractive alternative of yew.

So away I went and continued to work with the Evans (single drone) set till this Ian Kinnear poly set in A (apparently perfect bar a damaged chanter reed) popped up at an irresistible price on eBay. Now, of course I didn’t need it with my new set already on order (though I’d otherwise have snapped it up at the ‘Buy It Now’ price), but sat watching as it nearly went for a silly price, threw in a half-hearted, last-second bid I judged to be too low and was amazed to actually get it. So off I went to see Ian in Edzell in July to get a new reed and the pipes checked over/set up to his satisfaction, also signing up for his September course at the Burn (which looked like just the ‘right thing at the right time’ for me). And the course (just two weekends ago now) was great, with Ian and guest tutor Duncan Nicholson full of good advice to help me past some problems both previously identified (overgripping, fighting the chanter, hunching my left shoulder) and unsuspected (left wrist position, of which more anon), not to mention the very welcome chance to meet, talk to and play with a number of other pipers of varying experience. So, with Duncan also looking at my recent pipe setting of one of my own tunes (Sadie Cameron’s Waltz, for which you can find both whistle/flute audio demo and original/pipe notation here), making a few suggestions to tidy up the gracing and giving me a quick extra tutorial on the great G.S. McLennan’s Kilworth Hills, my head was absolutely buzzing by the time I got home!

Now, while I’d hoped at one time that Ross might have my new pipes ready for Ian’s course, it’s probably just as well that I was spared the added distraction of a last-minute collection of an untried set I couldn’t yet manage and had to wait a further week to pick them up. So I chose the laburnum set after all (though I’d honestly have been delighted with either!) and now just have to get used to their unexpectedly different pressure requirement (lower than I’ve been playing recently despite sharing some key design characteristics with Ian’s pipes). To which I must add that, while I had liked the higher pressure Ian set up for me in keeping my beginner blowing steady, I just love the sound of Ross’s pipes and, with some judicious tweaking at his house followed by three days of pretty solid practice at mine, am starting to regain that level of control without the associated physical effort (possibly yet another factor in previous tension issues) and think I’ll now have to take back the pressure of Ian’s pipes a bit to keep both sets ‘compatible’.

So, returning from the course to work with level shoulders, more relaxed hands and a host of other improvements, perhaps I was finally on the fast track to becoming a ‘respectable’ piper? But there’s always something, and I’ve got Ross’s keen eyes to thank for spotting the misaligned (‘recorder-style’) left thumb that now so obviously explains both my awkward wrist position (noticed by Ian the previous weekend) and frequently clumsy top hand gracing (noticed by me on a regular basis). And perhaps that really is the final piece of the jigsaw… for now (till I remember all the things I still can’t do and/or discover what else I’m missing)! :-)