After writing about my grand time at the Central Ohio Folk Festival, I had every intent to detail the rest of the festivals: "What I did on my summer vacation." Welp, here it is, the end of November and I haven't done that, NOR detailed the fabulousness of my Fall vacation either!
Bad Blogger, no cookie.
This summer I went to more folk festivals and did more folk music oriented things than I've done in years. Waiting so long to document it, without programs in hand, means I'm likely to forget more than I remember, So I'll start with the highlights, and backfill with specifics later.
Dulci-More Festival, Memorial Weekend
I've known about this festival for about as long as its been going on, but never attended till this year. This required investing in a new tent, as it'd been about a decade since my last camping, and that tent had been a garage sale give away last year, all sorta gooey and sticking together. The draw this year was again having some headliners who were friends: Sally Rogers and Doofus. I've known Sally for decades, since first meeting her at Northern Illinois University's New Prairie Cafe, where she appeared with Claudia Schmidt, and among lovely songs and witty repartee, gave a demonstration of the proper way to blow your nose complete with a spitton like vase to put the ...er... products... into. Most impressed that she could sing that well while obviously harboring a snottycold. In later years I saw Sally when we'd present her in Cleveland, or at Folk Alliances. I knew she was a beader & I decided to clean up some of my karma by FINALLY fixing a necklace she'd gotten from me at FA in Washington DC, that I'd promised to fix when a strand came loose. I had quite a bit of a chance to spend time just chatting and catching up with Sally. We shared our sadness at Mary's death and the sorrows of the Paton family. In her mainstage set, Sally dedicated a song to Mary and another friend of hers who had also died recently. With Sally's own recorder, I digitized? (wanted to say taped, but that wouldn 't be accurate anymore, would it?) - recorded her set, so David could hear it. I also went home with some of Howie's wine for myself and for David.
Along with my camping, I'd talked Betsy into going along, with her larger car hauling the EZup canopy and some of the grilling equipment. When I got to the camp in central Ohio, it was an incredibly hilly place, and looking to hike up that hill a couple times a day was a bit daunting with bad knees. The new tent went up very nicely, just like the instructions said. Betsy arrived after I'd gotten it up and things inside, and just BARELY got her tent up when the booming I'd taken to be someone shooting in the distance turned out to be thunder and a frogstrangler storm coming in from the east (a direction weather goes TO up where I live, not where it comes FROM!). I was dry and comfortable in my tent - light to see, book to read, air mattress cushy below me. What was NOT so great was how I'd sited the tent. I'd forgotten to look very carefully at the land, and what I ended up with was a dry tent proper, but this big new thing came with a sort of screened in porch room on the front, with mesh gutters along the inside edges. THAT was ankle deep in water that never came in the tent. The weather cleared up, mostly, the festival was a blast. Doofus, made up of two couples I know from somewhat different contexts weren't only fantastic on stage, but they gave incredibly good workshops in group playing and autoharp. Betsy, with lap dulcimer and fiddle was on a different track entirely through the workshops, and had praise for much of what she attended, as well. (who could NOT find Sally to be wonderful?)
Some of the other "stars" were wonderful folks unknown to me before this festival. A mulitinstrumentalist named Timothy Seaman was camped just the other side of Betsy. We breakfasted with him and vastly enjoyed his company and playing. In one of the song circle sessions he'd brought his flue and improvised around the melody as we sang. At the request of one of the dulcimer players, we did a reprise of Shenandoah, with just voices and his flute - magic! Susan Trump was also a revelation. Turns out she's buddies with Phil & Margaret and I delighted in her performances.
Ohio Scottish Games
A regular June event, and my first time ever making it. Made the most of it, too. Saw Alasdair Frasier for the first time & totally blown away. Attended a session where he taught a tune for a couple hours and watched Betsy get up on stage and boogie to it, as she'd not brought her fiddle. A roup of sisters who'd played at Dulci-more, were a great band, with two harps, whistles and concertina and an age range from 8 to 20something. Got to be audience for Tim Wallace, who was running one stage. Saw some pipers I know march by, kilted up. Lovely time
Raccoon County Folk Festival
Held in a historical village museum setting, this was the first time I'd been to this long running festival, and a number of friends have played it in previous years. There was some wonderful oldtime music coming from some delightfully young performers. The Akron Ceili band was a bit of fun, and I very much liked their attitude of encouraging anyone to come to their weekly ceili sessions. I resolved to take them up in this invitation. Even though it rained a bit through much of the festival, folks put up umbrellas and stayed. Got to see people I've not seen 'round for awhile. Lovely time.
Music in the Valley
Always a good time to be had at the annual Hale Farm event. This year, Mud in Yer Eye didn't have a place set up so much as many band members joining a jam session with old time players. I wanted to find some folks to sing with, and sat off by myself, with a few friends coming by now and then. Had a chance to do some autoharp playing with some folks I know from the extended MIYE family, including singing. Then off to Paul & Laura's bash where I saw MORE folks I hadn't seen in ages. Seeing folks whose kids were about the age THEY were when I first met them had me feeling powerful old. Actually getting out an instrument there and playing it for the first time, incredibly liberating. I went with Ruth to this second part of the day, and had flashbacks to all the wonderful "girl trips" we'd taken in the past.
Cleveland's Irish Cultural Festival
July. HOT. very hot. Mike was MCing the gazebo stage again, and spent some time hanging out with him. I got to gag at the Irish Sopranos (could NOT get out fast enough when they started into Danny Boy) I'd plunked meself down at the wrong stage with my lunch! gaaaah! Did get to see some lovely music before the skies opened up - and they did. Wicked nasty gray sky, rolled in over the hot hot hot in the sun and just DUMPED water. I dashed to the canopy behind the stage and helped get instruments and instrument cases under cover and stood chatting with the dancers who'd been there to dance to Cherish the Ladies. Glad I went, but left before the evening could get rainier.
more.. definitely more to the summer... I threaten to edit this to be more complete. Sue me if I don't, eh?
Wednesday 24 November 2010
Saturday 15 May 2010
In the merry month of May...
as many an Anglo Trad song would have it... this May I went a-folking downstate for the Central Ohio Folk Festival. Last year May had started out with a weekend of making music off in the wilds of Pennsylvania. Plans for doing that this year fell through when JanC was not well enough to go. I'd had a wretched spring, or at least I FELT wretched with a month long battle with bronchitis, sinusitis and hand strain. I hadn't recovered enough ambition to go alone, so I postponed carousing for another week to go to COFF. (An ironic acronym after the spring long Cough That Would Not Die)
The lure was too much- all the headline groups were people I knew, loved, and in some cases, hadn't seen for way too many years. Cherished crazies from northern Ohio, the Smokin Fez Monkeys, were there to do their Jugbandbizzare best. From Michigan Mustard's Retreat, who've been friends for nearly 25 years were part of a larger group, "The Yellow Room Gang" that also included Matt Watroba, who I've enjoyed singing with for years, at Folk Alliance or festivals, but had only a handful of previous experiences in seeing him as a mainstage performer. The end of the show headliner was Canadian James Keelahagn, who I'd not seen for a decade or more. I'd vivid memories of a time he appeared here in a concert I helped present, in an unusual venue - the chapel of a small Catholic college. I'd gone to bring him his fee and record sales proceeds, and walked into him changing - temporarily shirtless- with long hair flowing, in the sacristy of the chapel. One of dozens of priceless Celtic Ceol moments, that.
Friday afternoon: slow to get on the road, as the Grace Car had "needs" a bit beyond what her mechanic and I had expected. 'Twas hot on Friday. really. 85° in Columbus at 9:00 pm when Ellen and I went out to dinner. I had a brief glimpse of her two feral kitties and enjoyed trading "whatcha been up to" stories with her, since it had been a good handful of years since I'd seen her when I'd do Winterfair in December at the State Fairgrounds- nearly a decade, I think.
Saturday morning I intended to get going early, as I still had to register at the festival, find it, AND navigate around a large bicycle rally that takes place through Ellen's neighborhood and the direction I was heading. '
I got myself to the festival grounds in good time, but Oh, the temperature had dropped. Dramatically dropped. I heard the high expected was 55° and I don't know that we even hit that, as the wind was ferocious adding a windchill that reminded me of winter on the prairie. I had known evening temperatures would be lower, and brought some warm pants and layers of sweaters with that in mind. The only jacket-coat like thing I had was my lovely purple wool ruana, which I wore all the time & had plenty of compliments about ("would you mind if I felt your shawl..?) I also wore a brim style chapeau with a beaded hatband, so my pinned up hair could fit out the top. The wicked wind precluded wearing my hair down for my fancy flower hat - I'd NO desire to end up an accidental rastafarian. By ten o'clock I'd added so many layers that I had on socks, long velvet pants, a floor length full skirt, two layers of sweaters and a long tunic top, under the ruana. I didn't look TOO bag lady, but someone asked me if that (the hat, ruana, beadwork, etc) was my "everyday" dress. Well yes, sez I, just not ALL of it on the SAME day, normally!
The whole festival, COFF, was much different from one I'd been to before. The emphasis was very definitely on improving instrumental skills and knowledge, in particular dulcimers. I'd go so far as to call it dulcimer-centric. I don't think I'd seen so many lap dulcimer options since the demise of the (long gone, much missed) Black Swamp Dulcimer Festival. There were day long performance stages - two of those, concerts in the manstaige tent, and one smaller tent. The other four tents were dedicated to workshops or song swap sessions. Another wealth this festival has is in (really good quality) singer-song writers. That'd describe most of the headliners - with folks from the Yellow Room Gang and Keelahagn doing a 2-day songwriters' class. Not that trad was completely ignored - far from it. I was amused that out in this lovely Columbus Metro Park I heard one of the most academic talks based on a single song since I heard Joe Hickerson give the life history of "Bright Morning Stars" at the University of Chicago festival, ages ago. It 'twas in this same academic atmosphere that I discovered a traditional folk instrument to loathe.
Some folks cant abide banjos
Many people run from hammer dulcimers
Drummers get a bad rap regularly
Bagpipers are expected to keep moving to be less of a target.
More loathsome than all of these is the bazooka.
Bazooka's not a folk instrument, you say? Well... it sounds a bit like bouzouki, but I'm talking about acoustic mouth driven bazooka bubble gum. Lawd, oh lawd, there was a lad who could pop his gum at a heretofore unimaginable volume. It CRACK! sounded like someone clapping CRACK! once, at random intervals. You never quite knew CRACK! when he'd pop his gum again. People craning their necks to see who was the perpetrator CRACK! and their annoyed glares phased this guy not at all. CRACK! I have to admit, this is one of my least favorite things that people can do in public, but this was above and beyond. Too much CRACK! spoils the craic, sez I.
The Fez Monkeys did a Jug band workshop with the stated intent of having the participants be part of their mainstage appearance that evening. Kazoos were passed out. Small jugs were loaned. Percussion instruments were put into willing hands. One guy came with a totally Fez Monkeyish washboard with...er... attachments (cowbell, cymbal, bike horn, bells, cans) Fun, silliness, music, noise & sent on our way chuckling.
A real joy in a new festival in a new area is you don't know the local talent, or what they do, and it's all gloriously fresh. The COFF program had descriptive biographies, and even more welcome writeups about each of the workshops to help make decisions (5 tents, 2 side stages, one main stage - LOTS of decisions). I made some good choices, some eh choices, and some timeslots just had nothing that interested me, a permanently lap dulcimerless lass. It gave me time to talk with a number of interesting folks, including already seen performers who impressed me, look at the recordings and instruments and "stuff" on sale, and get some food now and then.
I'd hauled along serious instrumentation, but with how cold it was, didn't worry 'bout leaving them in the car. It's terribly unwieldy to haul folding chair, autoharp, bowed psaltery, concertina and a tote bag everywhere you go. Eventually, I stocked up my lovely folding chair (with multiple side pockets) with my tea bottle, program, and stuck other necessities in my wee bag worn bandolier style. I took along a blanket with the chair to go to the evening concert. First up were the Fez Monkeys, and I knew we'd be joining them the second half of their set. As I sat there I panicked - I'd left my Fez Monkeys OFFICIAL kazoo in my tote bag in my trunk, oh no!!!! Then I relaxed, realizing I still had my Mud-in-yer-Eye April Fool's dance kazoo in the side pocket of the chair. Before I could relax entirely, I had the horrific realization that I'd left the car keys hooked into the tote bag - in the trunk of the car. I went bolting out of the tent and scared up a park ranger to deal with the problem while there was still daylight. I fruitlessly looked into my wee purse, but I knew the keys weren't there. Bless those Park Rangers - they'd have a great career in car theft - he had the window shimmied and my car open with no scratch or dent in about 3 minutes. I got back to the main stage audience in goodly time to see the bulk of the Fez Monkeys' set and get up and be part of the festival pick up band. Grand fun. I know there was video recording of it all, but no idea where those recordings go.
It was immensely gratifying to see that Mustard's Retreat are highly valued and frequent visitors to the Columbus Area. Here, they'd performed their first show in my living room back in the late 80s, had a couple other shows, but nowhere NEAR the repeat audience who can sing along on all their songs. Life hasn't been easy for David in the last decade or so, and seeing such a solid fan base there pleased me to no end. Their group of friends in the Yellow Room Gang reflected the same kind of joy, intelligence, wonderful musicianship and incredible wordsmithing that I'd come to love of David and Michael - what a joy to see!
James Keelahagn - I wouldn't have recognized on the street unless I heard his voice, it's been so long. He'd recently returned from a trip to Australia, in particular a section that had been devastated last year by fires. He talked about the resonance of his song "Cold Missouri Waters" to the experiences of friends there in losing their houses to fires flashing through in moments. His story songs continue to be brilliant points of light on his chosen topic. I brought his "House of Cards" album home along with a couple Mustard's Retreat albums they'd produced since I saw them last.
Saturday night retreating to a WARM hotel room and HOT shower was extraordinarily welcome. Sunday dawned warmer & as the day went on, warmer still. I was able to wear not so many layers, and even shed some, though it never got all THAT warm. I had a chance to spend time with some of the performers who were known to me. Bill Schilling was giving a workshop most of the time, from what I could gather - some of it filling in for some no-shows. I sat in on his Bowed Psaltery workshop. I was intrigued by a man who'd built his himself from plans he "found online" as a sort of warm up exercise to building himself a hammer dulcimer. His psaltery range was from C to C- which I'd never seen before. I had a good case of WANT. I've still got the plans for my alto psaltery - wonder how hard it'd be to do another one with a change of range? Marge Diamond was being her cheerful dulcimer playing self. I was most surprised by a trio made up of folks from the Akron/Kent area I've known for years - but not as a trio. Ed Bray and his wife Elaine joined up with (known mostly as a bass player) Barb Withee. All three of them multi instrumentalists, and all three doing vocals. I don't know that I've ever heard Barb sing like that before, and I was delighted. I was fond of the repertoire they were performing and hope to get a chance to sing with them later this year. Their set was the last thing I was able to attend. Matt Watroba was leading a song circle till later in the day, but I had to head home for a band rehearsal Sunday night - going directly from festival to rehearsal.
It was peculiar to be at a festival where I had no job/responsibility & could roam freely and only have to worry about getting to what I wanted to see on time. Of the dozens of festivals I've been at, I think this was perhaps only the third or fourth time that'd been the case. I was surpised at how much I didn't miss the responsibilty part, possibly because it was a new-to-me venue. Or, it's one more sign of leading a very different sort of life in this decade.
The lure was too much- all the headline groups were people I knew, loved, and in some cases, hadn't seen for way too many years. Cherished crazies from northern Ohio, the Smokin Fez Monkeys, were there to do their Jugbandbizzare best. From Michigan Mustard's Retreat, who've been friends for nearly 25 years were part of a larger group, "The Yellow Room Gang" that also included Matt Watroba, who I've enjoyed singing with for years, at Folk Alliance or festivals, but had only a handful of previous experiences in seeing him as a mainstage performer. The end of the show headliner was Canadian James Keelahagn, who I'd not seen for a decade or more. I'd vivid memories of a time he appeared here in a concert I helped present, in an unusual venue - the chapel of a small Catholic college. I'd gone to bring him his fee and record sales proceeds, and walked into him changing - temporarily shirtless- with long hair flowing, in the sacristy of the chapel. One of dozens of priceless Celtic Ceol moments, that.
Friday afternoon: slow to get on the road, as the Grace Car had "needs" a bit beyond what her mechanic and I had expected. 'Twas hot on Friday. really. 85° in Columbus at 9:00 pm when Ellen and I went out to dinner. I had a brief glimpse of her two feral kitties and enjoyed trading "whatcha been up to" stories with her, since it had been a good handful of years since I'd seen her when I'd do Winterfair in December at the State Fairgrounds- nearly a decade, I think.
Saturday morning I intended to get going early, as I still had to register at the festival, find it, AND navigate around a large bicycle rally that takes place through Ellen's neighborhood and the direction I was heading. '
I got myself to the festival grounds in good time, but Oh, the temperature had dropped. Dramatically dropped. I heard the high expected was 55° and I don't know that we even hit that, as the wind was ferocious adding a windchill that reminded me of winter on the prairie. I had known evening temperatures would be lower, and brought some warm pants and layers of sweaters with that in mind. The only jacket-coat like thing I had was my lovely purple wool ruana, which I wore all the time & had plenty of compliments about ("would you mind if I felt your shawl..?) I also wore a brim style chapeau with a beaded hatband, so my pinned up hair could fit out the top. The wicked wind precluded wearing my hair down for my fancy flower hat - I'd NO desire to end up an accidental rastafarian. By ten o'clock I'd added so many layers that I had on socks, long velvet pants, a floor length full skirt, two layers of sweaters and a long tunic top, under the ruana. I didn't look TOO bag lady, but someone asked me if that (the hat, ruana, beadwork, etc) was my "everyday" dress. Well yes, sez I, just not ALL of it on the SAME day, normally!
The whole festival, COFF, was much different from one I'd been to before. The emphasis was very definitely on improving instrumental skills and knowledge, in particular dulcimers. I'd go so far as to call it dulcimer-centric. I don't think I'd seen so many lap dulcimer options since the demise of the (long gone, much missed) Black Swamp Dulcimer Festival. There were day long performance stages - two of those, concerts in the manstaige tent, and one smaller tent. The other four tents were dedicated to workshops or song swap sessions. Another wealth this festival has is in (really good quality) singer-song writers. That'd describe most of the headliners - with folks from the Yellow Room Gang and Keelahagn doing a 2-day songwriters' class. Not that trad was completely ignored - far from it. I was amused that out in this lovely Columbus Metro Park I heard one of the most academic talks based on a single song since I heard Joe Hickerson give the life history of "Bright Morning Stars" at the University of Chicago festival, ages ago. It 'twas in this same academic atmosphere that I discovered a traditional folk instrument to loathe.
Some folks cant abide banjos
Many people run from hammer dulcimers
Drummers get a bad rap regularly
Bagpipers are expected to keep moving to be less of a target.
More loathsome than all of these is the bazooka.
Bazooka's not a folk instrument, you say? Well... it sounds a bit like bouzouki, but I'm talking about acoustic mouth driven bazooka bubble gum. Lawd, oh lawd, there was a lad who could pop his gum at a heretofore unimaginable volume. It CRACK! sounded like someone clapping CRACK! once, at random intervals. You never quite knew CRACK! when he'd pop his gum again. People craning their necks to see who was the perpetrator CRACK! and their annoyed glares phased this guy not at all. CRACK! I have to admit, this is one of my least favorite things that people can do in public, but this was above and beyond. Too much CRACK! spoils the craic, sez I.
The Fez Monkeys did a Jug band workshop with the stated intent of having the participants be part of their mainstage appearance that evening. Kazoos were passed out. Small jugs were loaned. Percussion instruments were put into willing hands. One guy came with a totally Fez Monkeyish washboard with...er... attachments (cowbell, cymbal, bike horn, bells, cans) Fun, silliness, music, noise & sent on our way chuckling.
A real joy in a new festival in a new area is you don't know the local talent, or what they do, and it's all gloriously fresh. The COFF program had descriptive biographies, and even more welcome writeups about each of the workshops to help make decisions (5 tents, 2 side stages, one main stage - LOTS of decisions). I made some good choices, some eh choices, and some timeslots just had nothing that interested me, a permanently lap dulcimerless lass. It gave me time to talk with a number of interesting folks, including already seen performers who impressed me, look at the recordings and instruments and "stuff" on sale, and get some food now and then.
I'd hauled along serious instrumentation, but with how cold it was, didn't worry 'bout leaving them in the car. It's terribly unwieldy to haul folding chair, autoharp, bowed psaltery, concertina and a tote bag everywhere you go. Eventually, I stocked up my lovely folding chair (with multiple side pockets) with my tea bottle, program, and stuck other necessities in my wee bag worn bandolier style. I took along a blanket with the chair to go to the evening concert. First up were the Fez Monkeys, and I knew we'd be joining them the second half of their set. As I sat there I panicked - I'd left my Fez Monkeys OFFICIAL kazoo in my tote bag in my trunk, oh no!!!! Then I relaxed, realizing I still had my Mud-in-yer-Eye April Fool's dance kazoo in the side pocket of the chair. Before I could relax entirely, I had the horrific realization that I'd left the car keys hooked into the tote bag - in the trunk of the car. I went bolting out of the tent and scared up a park ranger to deal with the problem while there was still daylight. I fruitlessly looked into my wee purse, but I knew the keys weren't there. Bless those Park Rangers - they'd have a great career in car theft - he had the window shimmied and my car open with no scratch or dent in about 3 minutes. I got back to the main stage audience in goodly time to see the bulk of the Fez Monkeys' set and get up and be part of the festival pick up band. Grand fun. I know there was video recording of it all, but no idea where those recordings go.
It was immensely gratifying to see that Mustard's Retreat are highly valued and frequent visitors to the Columbus Area. Here, they'd performed their first show in my living room back in the late 80s, had a couple other shows, but nowhere NEAR the repeat audience who can sing along on all their songs. Life hasn't been easy for David in the last decade or so, and seeing such a solid fan base there pleased me to no end. Their group of friends in the Yellow Room Gang reflected the same kind of joy, intelligence, wonderful musicianship and incredible wordsmithing that I'd come to love of David and Michael - what a joy to see!
James Keelahagn - I wouldn't have recognized on the street unless I heard his voice, it's been so long. He'd recently returned from a trip to Australia, in particular a section that had been devastated last year by fires. He talked about the resonance of his song "Cold Missouri Waters" to the experiences of friends there in losing their houses to fires flashing through in moments. His story songs continue to be brilliant points of light on his chosen topic. I brought his "House of Cards" album home along with a couple Mustard's Retreat albums they'd produced since I saw them last.
Saturday night retreating to a WARM hotel room and HOT shower was extraordinarily welcome. Sunday dawned warmer & as the day went on, warmer still. I was able to wear not so many layers, and even shed some, though it never got all THAT warm. I had a chance to spend time with some of the performers who were known to me. Bill Schilling was giving a workshop most of the time, from what I could gather - some of it filling in for some no-shows. I sat in on his Bowed Psaltery workshop. I was intrigued by a man who'd built his himself from plans he "found online" as a sort of warm up exercise to building himself a hammer dulcimer. His psaltery range was from C to C- which I'd never seen before. I had a good case of WANT. I've still got the plans for my alto psaltery - wonder how hard it'd be to do another one with a change of range? Marge Diamond was being her cheerful dulcimer playing self. I was most surprised by a trio made up of folks from the Akron/Kent area I've known for years - but not as a trio. Ed Bray and his wife Elaine joined up with (known mostly as a bass player) Barb Withee. All three of them multi instrumentalists, and all three doing vocals. I don't know that I've ever heard Barb sing like that before, and I was delighted. I was fond of the repertoire they were performing and hope to get a chance to sing with them later this year. Their set was the last thing I was able to attend. Matt Watroba was leading a song circle till later in the day, but I had to head home for a band rehearsal Sunday night - going directly from festival to rehearsal.
It was peculiar to be at a festival where I had no job/responsibility & could roam freely and only have to worry about getting to what I wanted to see on time. Of the dozens of festivals I've been at, I think this was perhaps only the third or fourth time that'd been the case. I was surpised at how much I didn't miss the responsibilty part, possibly because it was a new-to-me venue. Or, it's one more sign of leading a very different sort of life in this decade.
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