#sparkchamber 050321 — Rodney Miller
We’re hot to foxtrot, dancing a jig, and keeping it reel today, as #sparkchamber is moved by fiddle avatar, Rodney Miller. Designated a Master Fiddler by the National Endowment for the Arts, and a New Hampshire Artist Laureate, Rodney is widely considered to be the foremost exponent of New England style fiddling — a uniquely American blend of French Canadian and Celtic influences. Folklorist Lynn Martin Graton describes him as “one of those rare individuals who embraces the entire cosmology of making music on the fiddle.”
“I inherited musical and creative genes from my mother and grandfathers. I’m lucky to think, compose, and play music in a left-handed, Scorpio kind of way.”
Over the past 35 years, Rodney has toured the U.S., British Isles, Australia, and Denmark, performed and taught at hundreds of music and dance festivals, and recorded numerous fiddle albums. His most recent recording, Ticket to Nowhere [2019] is the second album from the world-renowned contradance band Stringrays. And, this year he published The Rodney Miller Collection of Original Fiddle Tunes, an anthology of 270 original fiddle tunes written over his musical career, as well as wonderful essays about his musical life, and on tune-writing in traditional styles. “Inspirations come from within, but are in response to without.”
1.] Where do ideas come from?
[Note: all brackets indicate my original fiddle tune titles]
Jean Cocteau: “All good music resembles something. Good music stirs by its mysterious resemblance to the objects and feelings which motivated it.”
Let me count the ways.
Melodies sometimes come from dreams [Algamore]. That led to the creation of my own mystical dream kingdom of tunes [Camelot, Queen of Arms, Courtesan’s Jig];
while driving, pulling over to write them down, in one instance on a paper napkin, using a made-up number system [The Napkin Tune];
as a passenger, with mandolin in hand, responding to interesting road signs [Churn Creek]; ‘Leaving City of Soledad’ [Bustin’ Out of Soledad (prison)];
in response to bright orange road cones flashing by in the night [Danger Zone]; hazardous weather conditions [Rainy Day in Siskiyou];
Neil Young’s electric guitar soundtrack in Jim Jarmusch’s movie Dead Man starring a young Johnny Depp as William Blake, accountant: [William Blake’s Dead (no, not that William Blake)];
nature: a winding entry road leading to the breathtaking El Capitan at the end of the tunnel [Yosemite];
in response to my garbage disposal [Insynkerator];
memories of cartoons on TV [Dreamboat Willie];
the philosophical writings of Henry David Thoreau looking for “gaps in the fence. We think that if rail-fences are pulled down, and stonewalls piled up on our farms, bounds are henceforth set to our lives and our fates decided.” [Between the Lichen and the Bark];
in response to Covid isolation and feelings of despair: [All One and All Alone, Complete D’Struction, The Stream Mysterious Glides Beneath];
modern art at the Tate Britain: [Amino Acid Man, Madame Widrig];
remembering rock and roll on my transistor radio back in the 50s/60s: [Heavy Chevy, Run, Run Runaround, Later Gator, Skeeter, Oh Baby];
my ancestral roots: [Nether Stowey, Pocketwatch];
love: [Cushlamachree (Irish translation, ‘Sweetheart’), ‘Love Loves to Love Love, Love’, ’Late, in Love, and a Little Drunk’];
being drunk: [Glensliddich];
the rabid dog in To Kill a Mockingbird: [Crazy Dog];
feeling inflamed: [Chili Pepper]; also, to poet Robert Service’s The Cremation of Sam McGee [Incinerator];
bizarre natural phenomena: [Zombie Ant, Sidewinder];
Jack London’s “I’d rather be ashes than dust” AND “Did you ever, once in your life, turn yourself loose and rip things up by the roots? … or dance a hoe-down on the Ten Commandments?” [Glen Ellen];
Emily Dickinson’s poem, Oh March, Come Right Upstairs With Me: [Oh March, Come Right Upstairs With Me];
William Wordsworth’s “My heart leaps up when I behold a rainbow in the sky ...”: [Sweet Sky Waltz];
all of my life experiences: [Everything Changes and Ends]
2.] What is the itch you are scratching?
I have an innate urge to scratch the itch of visceral responses, whether they be beautiful objects of nature, real life experiences or, like a grain of sand, an irritating car driver, becomes a pearl [Blinkerman]. In short, translating life experiences through musical compositions. I liken music to painting, like a brush creates images of feelings on a canvas, my bow and fingers create feelings on a canvas of sound.
3.] Early bird or night owl? Tortoise or hare?
I usually awake at first light. In Olde English, aucurare was a word that meant to capture our experience upon waking as dawn approaches. Mornings are my most creative times. A majority of tunes have come to me in the morning, sitting at the kitchen table with a fiddle and a cup of coffee. As Joni Mitchell wrote, “Woke up, it was a Chelsea morning and the first thing that I heard…” [Powder Blue Waltz]
In his book The War of Art, Steven Pressfield wrote about the importance of regimen to accomplish your art goals. Muses will come. Muses have appeared in the heat of playing fiddle for contra dances, in the 2-3 minutes between dances, and between torrents of other tunes. Muses are some of my best friends.
Adrenaline most certainly has a role in the creative process of improvisation. Improvisation is essential in my music. My gigs are usually between 8pm and midnight. To make changes to melodies in the moment, but still retain the essence of the tune, is elemental to who I am. It’s Jazz, but a peculiar form of jazz, unique to fiddle music.
My free-thinking process plays a major part in being able to compose new fiddle tunes. There are probably a thousand fiddle tunes in my repertoire, mostly in the keys of D, G and A, as well as their relative minor keys, with repeating patterns of notes within each tune. So the question arises, how does one come up with a new tune, one that marks new territory, different from hundreds of others? One of my weaknesses has become a strength. I “know” hundreds of fiddle tune melodies, but it is usually hard for me to remember how any given tune starts. Once I hear a couple of notes, I can recall and play most tunes.
This enables me to start with a fresh mind, experimenting with notes that come to mind and go from there. The wealth of tunes already stored in my mind becomes my research library. The new tune that I compose almost always has a unique feel to it. Thank you, improvisational skill set!
4.] How do you know when you are done?
As in cooking, where you use a thermometer to measure the internal temperature of meat and candy, I seem to have an internal thermometer that I use to determine when a composition is “done.”
Fiddle tunes are 32 measures in length. Each tune tells a story, expressing a range of emotions. I know I’m done when my foot can’t stop tapping or goose bumps appear or a tear comes to eye.
Jack London put it wonderfully: “… She deviled him on the piano, a mad damned thing that stirred and irritated him and set his pulse pounding wild and undisciplined fancies in the ordered chambers of his mind.” [Hurricane Ridge]
