Tag Archives: Breton music

Image of the month: a sublime moment

2016 APRDidi­er Durassier, mas­ter of the Bre­ton bag­pipe, plays for me on the seashore at, if mem­o­ry serves the penin­su­la of Quiberon.

Thursday, May 1, 2014 — Rue de Kergallic

Art is not free­dom from dis­ci­pline, but Dis­ci­plined Free­dom.” — Edward Catich

14-05-01 BLOG Rue de KergillacI must tell you some­thing of the peo­ple I’m stay­ing with. Noth­ing I write could pos­si­bly con­vey the plea­sure I expe­ri­enced in meet­ing them.

Del­phine Decloedt and Didi­er Durassier live in a lit­tle bun­ga­lo in Saint Barthéle­my, on the qui­et lane that leads to l’étan (the pond) de Ker­gal­lic. The house, true to medieval tra­di­tion, com­bines the func­tions of home and ate­lier, and opens onto a delight­ful­ly anar­chic gar­den. Their chil­dren are intel­li­gent, polite (well, lit­tle Arthur can be stub­born, some­times!) and tal­ent­ed. Didi­er is well known in Bre­ton music cir­cles as a per­former on bin­iou, veuse and bom­barde, as a mem­ber of the band Penn Kazh, and as Brittany’s most accom­plished crafts­man-sculp­tor of tra­di­tion­al instru­ments. Del­phine is a painter and cal­lig­ra­ph­er (Grand prix du pres­tige Européen des Arts et Belles Let­tres, Com­man­deur de l’or­dre de l’E­toile de l’Eu­rope). When, I stepped into the house, Mélis­sande was play­ing some Satie on the piano. She came across as qui­et, but not timid. Liam already has the “cool” of French cin­e­ma idols. Arthur is a rein­car­na­tion of Christo­pher Robin. Read more »

Monday, April 28, 2014 — Saint-Barthélemy & Lann Gouh

A fab­u­lous night of music and con­ver­sa­tion. An assort­ment of local musi­cians at the vil­lage pub called Sterenn Roz (The Rose Star). These “ses­sion trad” have been held here for at least a quar­ter cen­tu­ry. Young and old, play­ing in dif­fer­ent com­bi­na­tions through­out the evening. No stage, just a com­fort­able mix of musi­cians and clien­tele. Peo­ple switch­ing instru­ments, drop­ping in or drop­ping out of a song as the spir­it moved them, glances exchanged between play­ers who found a com­mon groove. The Celtic way. There were accor­dions; gui­tars, bag­pipes, and a cou­ple of reed instru­ments resem­bling a medieval shawm which they called a bom­barde. Call-and-response, knees and feet catch­ing the tem­po. The style of per­for­mance, the rhythms and melodies bore a strong resem­blance to Cana­di­an folk music (It’s no acci­dent that the acknowl­edged region­al heart of Cana­di­an folk is Cape Bre­ton, Nova Sco­tia). But the fid­dle, the work­horse of Cana­di­an music, played no part. So the effect was a bit weird to me, as if some­one played blue­grass with no ban­jo. Read more »