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National Folk Festival
Apr. 9th, 2007 01:55 pmI achieved a day at the Folk Festival! During Passover!!
I met up with some friends and saw others perform. I wandered and thought and talked and generally returned to childhood. I couldn't return to adulthood because when most of my adult friends were absent (a mere dozen turned up, pfooey!) childhood was the best response. The festival encouraged my childlikeness, as well. Everywhere I went I was pushed back to a mental space I thought I had left thirty-five years ago. It was amazingly good fun.
I started with seeing Folk Dance Canberra perform and did a Brazilian dance along with them as my token dance. I do miss dancing. After that I went to check up that Ernie and Yalla were up to scratch. Of course they were, and playing to the sound of running water. I didn't get to say 'hi' to Ernie this time, or to hear Bohemian Nights. One day at the Folk Festival is never enoguh.
After the music I drank some Nicaraguan coffee and Emma took me round to examine shops selling scrummy silk. Marilla found me and Jared found us and we did the reunion thing. Then we found the Keith Potger concert and Jared and Marilla and I all went back in time.
When he sang earlier songs, we all joined in and provided a strange echoing continuo. The average age of his audiences was ... old enough to remember him as a Seeker. When he asked for help from a child the child valiantly stepped up to the microphone but obviously thought that a Seeker was something generally found in Harry Potter. Potter vs Potger - one eleven year old who had no idea of how lucky he was to be the backing vocalist on Morning Town Ride. Or he would have been lucky, if he had been my age and with my memories. I hope someone plays him a few records sometime, so he knows.
I hadn't realised just how good a solo performer Potger was. He was always the guy with the good bones, singing in the backgound. His stage presence is lovely and he can't stop talking. It means we got to hear about when the Seekers performed in rural Yorkshire "by pubic request" and other crucial moments of time. It also means we had sense of confusion when he satirised himself in his song "When I learn to sing with a nasal twang" which included the words:
And all the songs The Seekers do
Like Georgie Girl and Another You
Will sound just the way they're meant to be
Out of Nashville, Tennessee.
I couldn't help thinking that John Howard was deeply influenced by The Seekers. His mantra is - after all - "We'll build a world of our own that no-one else can share."
Most of the afternoon was spent moving between the cultural fusion that is a folk festival to the cultural confusion that is morris dancers challenging belly dancers to a tournament. The morris dancers won, mainly because the men looked so charming dressed in bras and shimmery skirts. Richard looked particularly charming, for the record.
I meant to see a Punch and Judy show, but instead found the tent housed "Folk karaoke," hosted by the Mothers of Intention. Just as well I missed Punch and Judy - I looked at the model stage and realised that it was really not a day for vituperative violence. What it was, was a day for klezmer. Except I didn't realise this till after Chutzpah finished their performance and I couldn't wait till nearly midnight to hear Bohemian Nights.
I went wandering.
I have this theory. Think of klezmer and wander for a bit and klezmer magically appears. Which it did. A folk-jazz-gypsy-klezmer group played the perfect song for my mood and all my klezyearning was assuaged and I could find Emma and do the 'folk festival with friends' thing again. We saw more Keith Potger and much gorgeous flamenco and had dinner and wandered the festival at night then came home.
I met up with some friends and saw others perform. I wandered and thought and talked and generally returned to childhood. I couldn't return to adulthood because when most of my adult friends were absent (a mere dozen turned up, pfooey!) childhood was the best response. The festival encouraged my childlikeness, as well. Everywhere I went I was pushed back to a mental space I thought I had left thirty-five years ago. It was amazingly good fun.
I started with seeing Folk Dance Canberra perform and did a Brazilian dance along with them as my token dance. I do miss dancing. After that I went to check up that Ernie and Yalla were up to scratch. Of course they were, and playing to the sound of running water. I didn't get to say 'hi' to Ernie this time, or to hear Bohemian Nights. One day at the Folk Festival is never enoguh.
After the music I drank some Nicaraguan coffee and Emma took me round to examine shops selling scrummy silk. Marilla found me and Jared found us and we did the reunion thing. Then we found the Keith Potger concert and Jared and Marilla and I all went back in time.
When he sang earlier songs, we all joined in and provided a strange echoing continuo. The average age of his audiences was ... old enough to remember him as a Seeker. When he asked for help from a child the child valiantly stepped up to the microphone but obviously thought that a Seeker was something generally found in Harry Potter. Potter vs Potger - one eleven year old who had no idea of how lucky he was to be the backing vocalist on Morning Town Ride. Or he would have been lucky, if he had been my age and with my memories. I hope someone plays him a few records sometime, so he knows.
I hadn't realised just how good a solo performer Potger was. He was always the guy with the good bones, singing in the backgound. His stage presence is lovely and he can't stop talking. It means we got to hear about when the Seekers performed in rural Yorkshire "by pubic request" and other crucial moments of time. It also means we had sense of confusion when he satirised himself in his song "When I learn to sing with a nasal twang" which included the words:
And all the songs The Seekers do
Like Georgie Girl and Another You
Will sound just the way they're meant to be
Out of Nashville, Tennessee.
I couldn't help thinking that John Howard was deeply influenced by The Seekers. His mantra is - after all - "We'll build a world of our own that no-one else can share."
Most of the afternoon was spent moving between the cultural fusion that is a folk festival to the cultural confusion that is morris dancers challenging belly dancers to a tournament. The morris dancers won, mainly because the men looked so charming dressed in bras and shimmery skirts. Richard looked particularly charming, for the record.
I meant to see a Punch and Judy show, but instead found the tent housed "Folk karaoke," hosted by the Mothers of Intention. Just as well I missed Punch and Judy - I looked at the model stage and realised that it was really not a day for vituperative violence. What it was, was a day for klezmer. Except I didn't realise this till after Chutzpah finished their performance and I couldn't wait till nearly midnight to hear Bohemian Nights.
I went wandering.
I have this theory. Think of klezmer and wander for a bit and klezmer magically appears. Which it did. A folk-jazz-gypsy-klezmer group played the perfect song for my mood and all my klezyearning was assuaged and I could find Emma and do the 'folk festival with friends' thing again. We saw more Keith Potger and much gorgeous flamenco and had dinner and wandered the festival at night then came home.