# Marcy Prochaska: Hammered Dulcimer

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### Meeting Malcolm Dalglish

Monday, February 28th, 2005

Malcolm Dalglish is one of the pioneers of modern hammered dulcimer. He’s the player who most makes me sit up and say “wow” — listening to Thunderhead, one of his early albums with Grey Larsen, there’s a lot of things I am amazed by, and I can’t figure out exactly how he’s doing them. More recently he’s been doing lots of work composing and arranging for choir and dulcimer. His Hymnody of Earth has been particularly popular. Check out his website at http://www.oooliticmusic.com.

Cliff Cole, another dulcimer player and teacher that I met at the Cranberry Dulcimer Gathering last summer, sent me an email a few weeks ago announcing a concert with the Bel Canto Children’s Chorus, world percussionist Glen Velez, and Malcolm Dalglish — performing Hymnody of Earth among other things. So yesterday one of my students and I drove three and a half hours to Quakertown PA and took our seats in the auditorium of the new middle school, staring expectantly at the dulcimer and percussion instruments gently lit on center stage.

Soon enough Malcolm and Glen appeared — Malcolm wearing a close-fitting round hat that reminded me of Phil Keaggy — and started playing. The first set was a bunch of dulcimer and percussion duets and solos. Malcolm did one of my favorites from Thunderhead, “Springwater at Jerry’s Run.” And it was fascinating to see and hear all the cool things Glen could do with a bodhran and an Old World tambourine. Next were three songs with the choir, including a new setting of Wendell Berry’s poem “Woods.” Wow.

After the intermission, the Hymnody itself. What an amazing piece of music… lots of variety in tempos and meters and structures, and sometimes there would be dulcimer, and sometimes percussion, and sometimes the whole choir, and sometimes Malcolm’s voice, and sometimes a smaller section of the choir. It reminded me of the kinds of things I most loved singing when I was in choirs. Close harmonies, even dissonance, melodies and structures that musically illustrated the meaning of the words. I only wish they’d had a shell behind the choir — they had beautiful, sweet, and even powerful voices, but the sound got a little lost on the huge stage. (Cliff’s daughter Emily, 16, had an exquisite but so short solo in one piece… Cliff tells me that they’ve been working on an album together. Mmmm.)

The choreography was minimal, purposeful movement that contributed to the flow of the music. For example, in the beginning of the piece Malcolm and Glen were on stage playing dulcimer and percussion, and then the choir started to sing as they processed through the aisles onto the stage. At other times, as one song was finishing, a portion of the choir would float through the ranks onto another set of risers in front of the stage, so that they were ready to sing when the next piece began. During a fugue-like part, each voice part would repeat a gesture as they took up the melody, so that you could see as well as hear the fugue. And for a piece in 15/8, the choir stepped stage left for three counts, right for two; a wonderful way to help the singers feel the rhythm, and a great way to help the audience catch it too.

Okay, so all of this — and that he autographed my copy of Thunderhead — has made the long drive well worth it. But guess what happens next? Cliff invites Eric and I to join his wife, him, the director of the chorus, another woman, and — Malcolm — for dinner. Oh my! I’m giggling like a smitten adolescent. Guess what? I sat next to him, too. We got to hear more about how he got started with dulcimer (the first one he built had five strings per course — a tuning nightmare), his background in theater at Oberlin (one of the schools I thought about going to), and more. And I got to shake his hand. Big, long-fingered hands, a little surprising for an otherwise slightly-built guy. How cool would it be to be close enough to watch how he plays; maybe that would throw some light on those techniques I can’t figure out just from listening.

Category: Performances | Comments: None yet

### Winter 2004-2005

Monday, February 28th, 2005

### Pas de Deux

A new duo was born this November. Lisa Fenwick and I met when we were both asked, along with some other musicians, to provide ceremony music for Elissa Tompkins’ wedding this summer. When the Johnson Museum asked me about a harpist for their elegant Byrdcliffe evening, Lisa and I formed Pas de Deux. With harp, flute, and dulcimer, we play elegant classical and Celtic music, and we’re looking forward to more events in the future.

### CD Release Party

The Hanshaw Trio and a great audience helped me celebrate the release of What Child Is This? on Sunday evening, November 21 at the Moosewood. We started with a set of tunes from the new CD, took a break, then came back with sets from my first album and from our usual mostly Celtic repertoire. Thanks to Jerry and Craig, to Christian Anible who ran sound for us, to the Moosewood for hosting us, to Jim Catalano for the interview in the Ticket, and to everyone who came.

### The Johnson Museum’s Annual Holiday Party

I’ve been privileged to be part of this event each year that we’ve lived here. This year’s was the best yet, with the Hanshaw Trio joining me for a set of Christmas and other music in the first hour of the party. We were followed by the Dryden High School Flute Choir and then the Sage Chapel Choir. Santa closed the party with a reading of “Twas the Night Before Christmas.”

### Malcolm Dalglish concert

Yesterday (2/27), along with fellow dulcimist Eric Ludewig, I got to see a concert with Malcolm Dalglish, pictured here with soloist Emily Cole. The Bel Canto Children’s Chorus, with Malcolm and world percussionist Glen Velez, performed his Hymnody of Earth in Quakertown PA. Oh my! He’s the hammered dulcimer player who most makes me sit up and say “wow,” and “how is he doing that?” I didn’t really know what to expect from this show, since I hadn’t heard his choral work before. The concert was fabulous, starting with an opening set of dulcimer and percussion duets and solos, then a few individual choir, dulcimer, and percussion pieces, then the Hymnody. The choral music was just the sort of thing I loved most from my choir experiences — close harmonies and even dissonant clusters at times, music that illuminated and illustrated the words, sometimes sung by the whole group and sometimes by smaller subsets with instrumental interludes and a few solos. I was honored to hear it, honored to have him sign my copy of Thunderhead, and — honored to sit next to him at dinner afterwards, thanks to Cliff Cole, who told me about the concert in the first place. Oh my.

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### In the cool of the day

Friday, February 25th, 2005

In the cool of the day, we would walk together
In the garden, by the river: the Lord, and Adam and me
In the cool of the day

His voice came to me from across a great gulf
Distorted and strange, though familiar
He said, “Where are you?”

I answered: my eyes are opened, I see that I am a stranger
To myself, to my lover, to my Lord
I’m ashamed, ’cause I’m naked; I’m afraid, so I’m hiding
From myself, from my lover, from you, my Lord

In the cool of the day… in the cool of the day

I’m still fleeing, withdrawn and defensive
Still keeping my distance from everyone, but
I’m so lonely

I’m still fleeing from the garden where I walked with God
But in his grace, I know he’s leading my steps
And I’ll walk with him again -
In the cool of the day

© 2005 Marcy Prochaska, all rights reserved.

This is a song I first started working on several years ago and just finished this year. I’m going to be singing it during an upcoming performance at a coffeehouse in Vermont.

The classic Christian definition of sin is “separation from God.” Since sin has its root in the Garden of Eden, I thought it would be interesting to wonder how Eve might have experienced this sudden sense of separation. Hence the perception that God’s voice sounds like it’s coming from across a chasm, familiar enough to be recognized, but distorted and strange.

Skeptics have mocked God’s question, “Where are you?” as contradicting his alleged omniscience. But it’s not a fact-finding question, asked in ignorance, but a relational question. It’s God calling attention to the separation that has taken place, taking the first step to a return to the relationship.

I think the separation from God causes other separations. From others, so that there can now be quarrels, and envy, and misunderstanding, and all sorts of other social woes. And from oneself, so that there can be such things as identity crises, confusion, lack of purpose, and other pyschological woes. All these things feed on one another, so that we run from intimacy and yet grieve for our loneliness.

God is in the business of redemption. He sent Jesus to heal the separation between us and himself. Even while we’re running away from him, he leads our steps back to his door. I think the more we experience the healing of our separation from God, the more we’ll also experience redemption in our psychological and social troubles.

A final note… I’m not trying to dismiss the idea of sin and guilt… but the focus of this song is on the separations that are sin’s most tragic consequences.

Category: Composing | Comments: None yet