Just wondering…
How does everybody think while playing?
ie…what are you concentrating on foremost in your mind?
Remembering the tune?
Bag pressure?
What you’re going to play next?
Do you think of the tune in a raw melodic form and then gracing is applied to it in a slightly interchangeable manner?
-or- do you learn the gracing along with the melody and then cement that in place?
Cheers
I think about all kinds of mad shite. such as : I wonder what that woman is wearing under her skirt OR Is that really a woman or do I need glasses.
In reality. I don’t think…only play… very Zen. 
Fair enough…how about when we practice?
(you know…practice…the time when you spend getting the bugs out of the way so you can play well and find out what that nice girl in the front row really is wearing underneath?)
Cheers
I’m with BenWalker with the Zen approach. I’m very concentrated on technical points when performing at a Funeral, where people need to mourn without being subjected to squeaks or bad notes. When the reed is playing well at home, I’m totally off with the fairies, having that special moment where piper and pipes become one.
However, I’m thinking about the tuning most of my practice time. It takes a while to warm up the reed and then fiddle with it until it is playing nicely. If I’m getting distracted by how out of tune it is, it’s hard to empty the mind.
Goldy.
Don’t Think… FEEEEEEEEEEEEEEELLLLLLLLLL! (Bruce Lee: Enter The Dragon)
When practicing I think about certain technicalities and such.
clarity of ornaments
Flow of the piece
That sort of stuff
Bra’s that are a couple of sizes too small 
PD.
This is the mantra that was given to me by a Transcendental Meditation guru especially for my piping. I have used it so much that it now plays over and over in my mind automatically while I play: Don’t fk up! Don’t fk up! Don’t f**k up!
I am willing to share this mantra with anyone who feels they may gain some cosmic benefit from it. Have a nice day.
djm
Vulgar, licentious thoughts that would have me chucked out of the funeral mass if they knew. Sometimes I think about the tune or whether to stretch it a bit or cut it short to accomodate the happening. What tune is next? Who’s cute in row five? My bum itches; can I shift position without screwing up? Why am I ogling at a funeral? Damn! I want a ciggie! Get on with it, I’m getting tired! Wow! That one is hot! Quit staring there! 
Yeah, it’s mostly vulgar. But the music comes out nicely. 
Gives new meaning to “popping strap”.
Bra’s that are a couple of sizes too small
Yeah, I think about all kinds of weird stuff while I’m playing. Sometimes my mind goes blank though. It is amazing how much grey matter the act of playing uilleann pipes can consume… Don’t you love it when you’re playing and people just come up and start talking to you?
Actually, this is a pretty interesting topic. In his paper for the Crossroads Conference, the fiddler/ethnomusicologist Martin Dowling pontificated a bit on what separates those musicians who are just great and those who are truly extraordinary:
“There is an undeniable quality which distinguishes the finest players, something beyond technical ability. While many of us push the music out through some force of will or ‘inner game,’ others are able to play as if they are watching the tune express itself as an image in the middle distance.”
Maybe there is something to all that Zen stuff after all…
…
“What are YE’ thinking while YE’ play ?”…
I’m thinking ye will have the piss taken out of ye for mentioning the ye word twice in yer banner heading :roll:
I did a 1-hour workshop last weekend (at a … Scottish Festival.. 
) and kept having to stop from laughing at this little Scotty-pooch-dustmop-looking-canine that was seated nearby me… whenever I’d hit a note A’ or above the dog would start letting out a bit of a “RRReFFF! RRRReFFF!”
So for the remainder of that performance, I kept thinking, “I wonder when the Lil’ Dustmop is going to bark again?”
And it didn’t help that the stage was situated right next to the sheepdog exhibition… the exhibitor was constantly talking and explaining - via a cordless microphone - about what the dogs were doing and why. And the large speakers were pointed right at our stage, not more than 30 yards away.
:roll:
When I am practicing, I usually hit a part where my “record skips” and I repeat the hard lick over and over until I get it “almost” right, then try to go through the entire tune twice with that same variation/lick just right. It took me two weeks to get one phrase of the “March of the Kings of Laois” down right. :roll:
When on stage, I sort of “go into some sort of Zen state”, hoping I can make that “one” problem note each chanter I have seems to have trouble with come out right and hoping that new tenor drone reed has trained itself not to squeal when I hit that “certain” pressure I need for an on the knee note to get it in tune.
I always have the fear that I will play the wrong tune (as I have been known to do occasionally). That really makes you feel foolish and surprises the heck out of the rest of the band…
A lot of time, I have to ask before we start, “Does that set have “dum-de-diddlie-do” or “doddli-diddli-dee” for the middle tune?”, especially if I am on prednisone at the time, the worst mind altering drug in the world.
Of course, if there is a braless, good looking woman in the front row with her hands clasped behind her neck, that will pretty well ruin the playing of pipes for that gig for me unless I can remember not to take my eyes off the floor while playing…
Think? Hmmm. It is not so much what I am thinking about, more what I experience. I know that I seem to hover above my body. I feel all warm inside. I see a tunnel. At the end of the tunnel is a light. A voice, a friendly, welcoming voice, tells me "tommykleen…go to the light,
…and tune your regs myselfdammit!"
t
I imagine that I’m playing an O’Briain full set (well I can dream!)
…Beige…I think I’ll paint the ceiling beige…
Hmmm…Is there a reason his kilt is so long? Or maybe he’s just trying to make us think that… 
Or maybe he’s bragging…
“Daa-daa-deddly-doo doo… what? Whoops… dammit… sex…tee-teetum-tiddly-eccky-thumpSHIT…sex…you lookin’ at me?.. sex… arrrgh…sex…here comes that tricky bit… relax… RELAX… shit… oh, yea, call that guy later… dammitdammitDAMMITsigh… squeeee…sex… I thnk I’ll have a smoke and crawl out of here before I shame myself again…”
Something like that.
Or did you want some more?
Mark
No matter how long I live here I don’t think I’ll ever understand Irish fashion 