Egeland spiller Fjeldstad

It is 2 January 1977 and I am finally making good on plans to visit the fiddle-player Sigurd Fjeldstad. He lives in a fairly remote spot, five kilometres north of the centre of Tvedestrand, southern Norway. So I’ve brought a local with me – my good friend, Jarle Hagane, who grew up in the area. We knock on the door and a slight man in his mid-70s opens up. This is the man we’ve come to meet. He’s probably a bit surprised to find two young strangers on his doorstep and asks hesitantly: “What can I do for you today?” When we answer that we’d hoped for a bit of music, he lights up and in no time we’re installed in the sitting room. It isn’t long before the fiddle comes out.

The music I heard then was a revelation: one unknown pearl after another, all played with authority in a thoroughly consistent style unlike anything I’d ever heard before. And when – after making coffee and preparing sandwiches for the unexpected guests – his wife Ella took out her chord zither, I had yet another landmark experience: traditional-style ensemble playing – a rare treat even in those days. A harmonious elderly couple, both feet firmly planted in this musical tradition, who radiated the joy of making music together.

Sigurd generously shared his music with anybody who was interested. After that first visit, I left for home with half a dozen new tunes, which I’d recorded. Keen as I was, I learnt them quickly and barely a month later I was back at Fjellstad. No sooner had I come in the door than I had to get my fiddle out to show Sigurd what I had learnt. We sit in the living room, while Ella makes coffee in the kitchen. When I’ve finished playing, some friendly commentary on the playing comes from the kitchen – Ella thinks it is Sigurd playing. Meanwhile, Sigurd is sitting on the firewood box, hands to his face, weeping tears of joy. To say I was also moved by the experience is a total understatement. I could hardly have hoped for a better endorsement!

After this trip, I visited Fjellstad as often as I could. The welcome was always just as hearty and I always left with new musical treasures. I learnt some useful lessons about music-making as a way of socialising — and socialising through music-making.

In hindsight, I see that my experiences at Fjellstad gave me a broader perspective on traditional musical that was extremely important as I gradually staked out my own path as both performer and teacher. I find it hard to imagine that I would have made the same career choice without the ballast I took with me from Fjellstad.

This album is recorded in gratitude for the warmth I met; for the cups of coffee, sandwiches, cakes and – not least – the unique musical legacy I inherited.