Taking a lead in the bagpipe renaissance

BY BECK ELEVEN

If youth be taskmaster, then bagpipes are cool.

The thought of this makes me go "och", but Richard Hawke, who is something of a bagpipe guru in Christchurch, says there is a pipe-band resurgence.

I am sceptical, but I can't fight the numbers.

For the three years Hawke has been pipe band director at St Andrew's College, the roll of pipers and drummers has doubled from 60 to 120.

Hawke, 47, says it could be something to do with the internet, or the Celtic revival.

The Highland pipes are complicated things.

There is a bag, (obviously) which is filled with air, and three "drones" that make the droning sound. And then there is the nine-note pipe chanter with the holes.

"That's where all the action happens with the fingering," he says.

The air pushes through a reed, like other wind instruments, and that unique sound is born.

Other vital questions go amiss because I want to know: "What happens to all the spit?"

Hawke does not deflect the poser, because this is a genuine issue.

"Ah, that is moisture control," he says. "There is a lot of moisture, especially on cold days with warm breath."

There are artificial ways to remove the moisture, such as small siphon hoses leading to sponges.

However, Hawke prefers natural methods such as a sheepskin bag that soaks up the inevitable moisture. Such prolific playing sends him through about a bag a year.

Hawke tunes his $4500 set of bagpipes. I think it sounds like an alley cat gone off.

He blows. Instantly, his face is a shade redder and his cheeks turn into dimpled beanbags.

The pipe protrudes from the left side of his mouth and his right foot plays metronome to the jig.

"See, it's like something you can imagine at a ceilidh or at the pub. The attraction of pipes, I think, is because they capture both ends of the emotional spectrum. The jigs and marches are happy."

And here's a tip should you ever want to impress a piper – ask them what they're like at "piobaireachd" (pronounced pea-brook). It's a classical form of piping, expressing the more melancholy tunes.

He plays a quick bit of piobaireachd called Lament for the Children, a 17th-century tune written after a father lost five children in a year.

He gives a quick history lesson on piping origins, including: "I think bagpipes were referred to in the Bible. Well, anything with a reservoir of air is a form of bagpipes."

Hawke picked up the pipes at age eight, or so the family story goes.

He met his wife, Julie, at a fundraising event when he was 21. Three pipe bands played at their wedding.

He thinks they've been married for 24 years. He also thinks he might get into trouble for not remembering exactly.

The pair moved to Ashburton in 1990, where they owned a service station until returning to Christchurch in 2006 where Hawke is the full-time pipe band director at St Andrew's College.

Julie Hawke is a highland dance teacher, and the pair have three sons – all pipers.

That's eight kilts in Hawke wardrobes. I forgot to ask about sporrans.

For photographic purposes, Hawke nips away to change into his Caledonian Pipe Band uniform, for which he is the pipe major.

It is cold outside for the photo shoot. "Good Scottish weather," he notes.

Hawke and 37 players from the Caledonian Pipe Band will jet to Scotland in August to compete in the Glasgow Green champs where they will pit their piping skills against 250 other bands, including teams from Asia and the Middle East. After the group competition, Hawke will stay on for a month to try his lungs at soloist prizes.

He has been a competitive piper since age 10 and has won international acclaim, including the top-honour Highland Piping Society of London Gold Medal.

Getting competition-ready takes a year of preparation. Competitors must learn about half a dozen 20-minute tunes off by heart. Then, 10 minutes before going on stage, they are told which one to perform.

It's not easy to make it to the top, but once you've made it in the bagpipe world, the invites abound. Bagpipes have taken him to play at castles around the world.

For Hawke, piping is mostly a serious pursuit.

"But I get dragged up at any knees-up."

Speaking of knees-up ... we must cover the perennial what-Scotsmen-wear-under-their-kilt question. He's got plenty of vague answers – even one that's unprintable – but the answer will not be known today as a reporter ought not lift an interview subject's kilt.

Do you know anyone who might be of interest for a Saturday Profile? Email a brief summary (100 words) to beck.eleven@press.co.nz

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