Celtic Music Interpretive Center
Anytime
you are on a road signposted by the silhouette of a bagpiper, music beckons an
elegant finger. Don your Scottish tam and seek this treasure: The Celtic Music
Interpretive Centre (CMIC) in Judique, on Cape Breton’s Ceilidh Trail.
Once
you pass the waves caressing the rocks below Creignish Mountain on Route 19,
watch for the steeple of a brown stone church. Across the road, you will hear
the soul of a ceilidh.
The
license plates tell me who is there today - Rhode Island, Maine, Ontario, South
Carolina, Maryland and, of course, Nova Scotia locals. The last time I was
there, I was a “home from away” - my current residence in Halifax being just a
bit away. As soon as I got out of the car, I heard my childhood nickname called
out from a trim fellow in sunglasses sitting on the patio eating a quesadilla
and an oatcake for lunch.
Here,
when that happens, reply by asking them how they are in Gaelic - Caimar a tha
thu? - and that will give you enough time to realize who it is that you haven’t
seen in 10 years. That will take care of the rest of your afternoon as everyone
(and their dog) has shown up to hear the season’s daily piano and fiddles,
ready to dance a square set.
Befitting a place
that is almost next door to the home of fiddling great Buddy MacMaster, its exhibit
and archives extoll the man himself along with those who came before him and
those that followed in his footsteps.
It is this sense
of tradition that continue to fuel the facility and its patrons.
“In terms of continuing
Celtic culture, you have to remember or understand what came before you,” says
Alan Dewar, CMIC Music Director. “It is important to understand the appeal, the
approach, what people played and how they did it - the etiquette.
“This music was
played in a social setting, not for material or commercial gain.”
“We are trying to
educate, at a grassroots level, those who may not have memories of Buddy
MacMaster, or know what a house ceilidh is, or never had the chance to
experience this music and culture organically.”
The spirits of
Winston Scotty Fitzgerald, John Allan Cameron, and Brenda Stubbert drift deeply
through the space. Echoes of Natalie MacMaster and Ashley MacIsaac are found
here too. They spent school days just a minute down the road, where our school
used to be.
“We are here if
someone wants to get a feel for who these musicians were,” continues Dear. “Maybe
they want to know how Theresa Maclellan or Donald Angus Beaton would have
played a particular tune.”
Music becomes
visceral at the CMIC; I hold a vinyl record that could have belonged to my
grandparents, who would have put it on the gramophone with the crank handle on
the side. Gliding a hand along the sleek wood of a 1940s Marconi radio and turning
the knobs evokes fiddle strains, ones that soothed the longing of displaced Gaelic
ears for a hundred years or more. In my own head, I still hear the deep voice
of 1970s CJFX’s Joe Chesal and CIGO’s Bob MacEachern with the Highland Fling
show, marking years of evenings by the radio.
February 2020 saw
a recharge for the CMIC. Like so many young Cape Bretoners, Patti (MacDonald)
David left the island to study and seek work abroad. She is now back home as a
new Executive Director, working with Dewar and a Board of Directors and
volunteers.
“To date, we had
been focusing on visitors and entertainment and economic sustainability,” she
notes. “Like many not-for-profit organizations, it has been a challenge
fulfilling our vision. We are designated as the Official Celtic Music Centre of
Nova Scotia, and as the Official Cultural Archives for Inverness County.
“Our mandate is to
collect, preserve and promote traditional the Celtic
music of Cape
Breton through education, research and performance.”
Part of that mandate
will see the CMIC tighten partnerships with archival and museum groups around
the province and the world. “The music, the history, and the culture of the people
of Cape Breton have an inherent value all on their own,” she adds. “I want to
ensure that’s the focus - accessible and promoted.”
“We have over 350
videos of live concerts from all over the island,” Dewar explains. “Broad Cove
concerts, Mabou ceilidh - our vault is full of gems.” The archives continue to
grow and evolve into digitizing, so booking an appointment is encouraged.
Dewar says that the
rest of the world is tuning in as well.
“Celtic music - the
Cape Breton sound, specifically - catches the ear of a lot of people, whether they
are from Scotland, the U.S., or Denmark. When they hear this style of music
with their own ears, they are hooked.”
Close ties to
Scotland’s South Uist are maintained with visits to the Ceòlas Festival, which celebrates 25 years in
2020. “Our style of music is close to home for them,” Dewar says. “They bring
people from Cape Breton to the festival to teach this style of fiddle. John
Pellerin, Stan Chapman, and Troy MacGillivray are going this year. There is
always that strong bond, back and forth.”
If your companions
are keen, or at least tolerant, pick up a fiddle yourself and try the bow.
Rumour has it that if you are really, really good, they will recruit you to hop
on the stage in the room next door. Apparently, it is soundproof, as planners must
have been among those who couldn’t stand an ill-timed squawk interrupting their
own melodies.
We are not all virtuosos
though. Management here knows that and have prepped a spot. The best of the
Island, and often beyond, are around to offer lessons in fiddle, piano,
highland piping, stepdance, and beginner Gaelic - all ages, all skill levels -
and yes, they are all very patient.
I leave my son
looking at a fiddle tune book in the gift shop, and my husband flipping through
some Cape Breton Christmas short stories, so I can delve deep into the
archives. It leads me into the intertwining of family and music from four
cultures that mark Cape Breton fiddle; Scottish, Irish, Acadian and Mi’kmaq. I get
deep into an article from Am Braighe, the magazine about Gaelic culture that
local Frances MacEachern edited from the ’90s, and I realize I could spend days
in here. I also can’t help but think of the late Leo A. MacDonnell, the
pointing finger that keeps me writing, a huge influence on the CMIC. Send
thanks to him in heaven for that.
Like so much of
Scotland, music is tied to the shore and the hardships and joys the Gaels brought
with them when they arrived in their boats.
At the end of the CMIC
parking lot, there’s a bridge over a brook that looks like it was taken from a
fairy tale. Check for the ogre. A wide gravel path winds to the left of the
graveyard and takes you to the shore with a beach that I hesitate to write
about because I want it all to myself. Discarded fishing buoys hang from the
trees, and swirls of mushrooms mix with berries and moss along the way. A side
loop will take you to the old St Michael’s pioneer graveyard, only discovered and
reclaimed from the tree roots a few years ago by community volunteers. Further
along is the site of Judique’s first church, likely built soon after Michael
MacDonald brought the first group of Scot settlers to the region in the late
1770s.
If you want a
guide, ask for a Celtic Culture Musical Walking Tour or brave the complete
Ocean Ceilidh and Seafood Adventure that starts at the CMIC. They’ll give you a
little wine or craft beer and send you with area fiddler Chrissie Crowley. She
will infuse you with music and culture and Gaelic before a trip on a lobster
boat. A square set may break out on the bridge over the brook, part of the
Trans Canada Trail. Then you dine and dance with your single malt whiskey before
wandering home.
I opt for my own
walk, past my MacDonnell and MacDonald ancestors in the graveyard, straight to
where I hear the waves curling onto the sand and stones. With salt spray in my
hair, and curls blown into a Medusa ‘do, I get a burning thirst, so I head back
to the CMIC bar for a little deoch. Siobhan is there, the girl I held in my
arms as a newborn, now two decades old. She manages to dance a step and serve a
sweet dram almost at the same time. In a minute, she brings out a bowl of
lobster chowder and a biscuit, proper Taste of Nova Scotia style. I wish I
could have it all year, but I have to go back to Halifax. I will leave it to my
aunt Sally to warm the seats of the CMIC. Go to the Sunday Ceilidh any week
from 2pm – 4pm and ask her for a dance. You will find her - she’s under five
feet tall - but she will take you for a delightful twirl.
