For those who enjoy a little old fashioned dancing music:
Kennedy's reel.
Kennedy's reel.
Reel musette sounds ;)
- Thread starter Ffingers
- Start date
Squeezebox Of Delights
Active member
Green Matthews are great! I've seen them live twice now, and not only are they both very good musicians, their shows are incredibly educational. Chris does play piano accordion, but their music is mostly based around strings and wind. If they're ever playing near you I'd recommend going to watch!
Walker
🪗
I had a salad the other day with sweet and colourful salad leaves. It also had new "waxy" potatoes, crispy bacon, spring onion, big pieces of Stornoway blackpudding and a honey-mustard dressing. It was really superb, even if slightly unconventional.
In many ways the music above is like my blackpudding salad. It's a fusion of a reel (originally a Scottish form) called Kennedy's, contained in an 18th century English collection of tunes (not an unusual occurrence) but played on a French bagpipes and a Renaissance keyboard in a kind of syncopated and fairly modern hip-folkster rhythmic style.
All of the elements combine well and creates a fusion of sound that's anything but old fashioned.
Thanks @Ffingers for the lovely musette salad. It was memorable and I'll definately come back for second helpings.
In many ways the music above is like my blackpudding salad. It's a fusion of a reel (originally a Scottish form) called Kennedy's, contained in an 18th century English collection of tunes (not an unusual occurrence) but played on a French bagpipes and a Renaissance keyboard in a kind of syncopated and fairly modern hip-folkster rhythmic style.
All of the elements combine well and creates a fusion of sound that's anything but old fashioned.
Thanks @Ffingers for the lovely musette salad. It was memorable and I'll definately come back for second helpings.
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Blackpudding? Sounds dangerous!
Every year my Dad made sausage with our old hand crank sausage machine. We made the traditional Slovenian pork sausage. We also made the Blood sausage. I didn't like that because we would go to the slaughter house for get the fresh blood. My Dad would bring a bucket. They wood raise the steer with a hoist, slit his throat and drain the blood in the bucket. The slaughter house was a good 10 miles away. Dad would mix salt in the blood. My job was to hold the bucket between my legs on the car floor and make sure none would spill out of the bucket, which was tough over a bumpy road. When we got home, we finished making the sausage. I remember one time, we did something wrong and by the time we got home the blood congealed like jelly and was not useable.
I guess I'm a little "off topic" from the 1st post -- Oh well, some memories from when I was a kid.
Dingo40
Been here for ages!
This also happened annually where we had lodged temporarily during WWII: the pig would be slaughtered and processed into various products (including black pudding sausage).
Children ( myself included) in those days were left in no doubt as to where our food came from, and it wasn't the supermarket!
Although accordions were commonplace, and much appreciated, e-accordions were, as yet, undreamt of!
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Even better with the traditional whisky "gravy"
boxplayer4000
Prolific poster
It never ceases to amaze how humans can devour so many seemingly questionable parts of our animal friends. I suppose if you haven’t known the animal and you don’t witness its demise and it is attractively package on the sales counter or well cooked in a restaurant it becomes much more palatable.
Witness the story of the tourist in Spain whose favourite restaurant was near the bull-ring. There bull testicles were on the menu and after much persuasion the tourist eventually sampled them, not only sampling but declaring them a favourite. One day while eating his favourite dish he noticed that their size had reduced considerably and said so to the waiter. His reply was ‘Senor, sometimes the bull wins’.
Witness the story of the tourist in Spain whose favourite restaurant was near the bull-ring. There bull testicles were on the menu and after much persuasion the tourist eventually sampled them, not only sampling but declaring them a favourite. One day while eating his favourite dish he noticed that their size had reduced considerably and said so to the waiter. His reply was ‘Senor, sometimes the bull wins’.
