Billy in the Lowland

How to divert an existential crisis with a simple fiddle tune.

Our story begins last Wednesday afternoon with a trip to the laundromat in Montpelier. It was time for the annual washing-of-the-quilts, which were too large for our normal-sized machine at home. After getting things started I ventured down Main Street to the Bohemian Cafe for a coffee. Walking in, I discovered the service counter was closed, but a holiday market was in progress. I heard someone singing, turned to look, and there was Alec Ellsworth with his guitar and fiddle. “Hey, Dana, do you want to sit in?” “Yea, sure!” I replied, found a chair, and took up Alec’s guitar.

For the next half hour we played through a half-dozen fiddle tunes — all of them new to me — all equally enjoyable. The one that stuck in my head was “Billy in the Lowland.” Alec said he picked it up from another local fiddler, Jenny Monfore. As I was learning this, I spent considerable time on YouTube searching for alternate versions, but I could not find a version I liked so well as how Alec played it. The bowing, the tempo and melody, were all very satisfying. Here’s the result of a couple hours in the home studio with it.

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My wife, Sue, is quite a good fiddler. But because she spends the balance of her days working at her job, little time is left for the pleasures of playing music. Yesterday, she expressed to me a feeling of impending existential crisis, no doubt brought upon by a lack of playing her fiddle. Thinking it might help, I taught her Billy in the Lowland. Now she plays the tune (really well!). Crisis averted (for now), and we’ll be bringing it to the jam session today at Harry’s Hardware.

But this story has less to do with the tune itself. It more speaks to the fact that while doing all the necessary things we must do to survive, we often forget to replenish the very life force that keeps us going. While hurrying from one task to another, skating on the surface of life, we forget to take the time to dip down deeper into more nourishing waters — those creative pursuits that inexplicably make us whole. It takes time and focus to learn a fiddle tune. It forces one to slow down, pay attention, breath, listen, and commit to the repetition required to learn it.

I have a friend who half-jokingly mentioned to me that he has developed “late onset, adult attention deficit disorder.” I know what he means. Sometimes, while engaged in a task, a thought comes into my head of another thing that I must do now. So I shift attention to the new task and before long the same thing happens again. There I go, skating on the surface again. It really helps to have a tune to learn that reenforces a gentle focus.

So, thanks Alec. Thanks, Jenny. There’s a bazillion fiddle tunes out there, but this one spoke to me this week. Here’s to slowing down, diving deep, and keeping the tunes coming.

- DR