Friday night saw the last performance at our coffeehouse. Wiley old music man Mark Ross brought his banjo, fiddle, harmonica, and guitar and a great wealth of songs, and was accompanied on a few songs by K & her voice & banjo. Very few people came but it was just as well since S had packed up all but a few of the glasses last week.
Mark sang some Woody Guthrie tear-jerkers and we passed around a bottle of wine. He gave us a hell of a show.
We got home by midnight.
Saturday we had one humdinger of a hootenanny at our house. Twenty people came so it was a much smaller crowd than last year's party, but I think that made it easier for people to get comfortable. My girl R and her friend came early to help us prepare food. S made some salmon dip and sliced up bread; Oily & Dragonlady showed up with the most delicious watermelon; I washed the delectable green grapes picked from our arbor & placed the bowls on the table.
Mark & K came early & sang some historic tunes, including "Joe Hill" as requested by S, while folks ate the bread, fruit, cheese, and assorted yummies we provided. Then S cranked up his Victrola and the sweet old music filled the room, rolling around with the conversations, twangling in people's ears, bringing smiles. One of my favorite 78s is Bonnie Blue Eyes singing "Seven beers with the wrong kind of man" which is just good old-fashioned country music at its finest, along with Hank Williams' "Long gone lonesome blues."
When the conversations got too loud to hear the Victrola, I put on a cd of some gypsy music and enticed the lovely R into pulling on a coin belt and performing 3 songs with me; I was a bit nervous because I didn't know everyone all that well, especially JJ's older sister visiting from Texas, but in no time at all I had relaxed & was playing with R like we do every week. People liked the end of the first song, with its very melodic ney (Egyptian flute) part, which lends itself to spinning. Spinning is what we did, the edges of our flared skirts just touching, hair flying, arms up bent at the elbows, palms to the sky.
Spinning feels like it scoops up the energy in the room and amps it all up; people started the clap clap clap clap and around we went, whirl whirl wild. The real crowd pleaser, though, is R's veilwork-- she is such sweet poetry in motion. The veil with her hair and her skirt all twirling, moving like water... I love it. We left them wanting more, which is as it should be.
By this time my dear darling S had gotten completely snockered on red wine. I had refrained from drinking, because while a little red wine is good for dancing, too much of it makes for an equilibrium-off-balance disaster. I don't know if I've ever seen S so drunk. I'd seem him tipsy, sure, but the word for Saturday night was definitely drunk, and bossy in a most endearing manner. I will say this about him, his bossiness got all those shy musicians to bust out their guitars and start singing. He provided our big tupperware container with "CAT FOOD" written on it to KJ, along with some forks to use for thumpa thumping. Homemade tympani. He got out his violin and sawed away, mostly in tune, often off beat, always fiddling happy. I joined in with my zils (finger cymbals) and JJ sang lovely nonsense; those without instruments clapped. It took about ten minutes for everyone to fall into the motion, but then for three full minutes we had a real improvisational song roaring along like a freight train and it was a glorious thing. It seemed by common consensus everyone wrapped it up and ended it together, amidst much joy and laughter.
After the group wildness, everyone took turns singing and playing, some solos, but often together. All the ladies sang along with JJ when she did a ferocious "Women be wise," with Tebone playing his guitar and he's from Texas so he says, "GUIT-ar." Half the party was in the kitchen, as always happens, and later Tebone and S were drinking and ranting in the kitchen with KJ. I went in there and turned off the lights so we could all see Tebone's t-shirt with the glow-in-the-dark skulls.
Wild and woolly somebody kept stealing my whiskey, but I didn't really care. A group hug said goodbye to Tebone & JJ, and then KJ was the last to leave about 3 in the morning.
I was stone cold sober when everyone left, which turned out to be a blessing, because I was able to take care of a spinny sick S, who said the next day he didn't remember getting his pajamas on, and I also managed to clean up all the little isolated messes before climbing into bed. I was surprised at how little a mess there was for how much fun we all had.
Also, I felt great on Sunday, and the house was clean, so I spent the day reading some Hemingway short stories, brushing the dogs, and baking a rice dish with the left-over salmon while S slept off his humdinger of a hootenanny hangover.
Mark sang some Woody Guthrie tear-jerkers and we passed around a bottle of wine. He gave us a hell of a show.
We got home by midnight.
Saturday we had one humdinger of a hootenanny at our house. Twenty people came so it was a much smaller crowd than last year's party, but I think that made it easier for people to get comfortable. My girl R and her friend came early to help us prepare food. S made some salmon dip and sliced up bread; Oily & Dragonlady showed up with the most delicious watermelon; I washed the delectable green grapes picked from our arbor & placed the bowls on the table.
Mark & K came early & sang some historic tunes, including "Joe Hill" as requested by S, while folks ate the bread, fruit, cheese, and assorted yummies we provided. Then S cranked up his Victrola and the sweet old music filled the room, rolling around with the conversations, twangling in people's ears, bringing smiles. One of my favorite 78s is Bonnie Blue Eyes singing "Seven beers with the wrong kind of man" which is just good old-fashioned country music at its finest, along with Hank Williams' "Long gone lonesome blues."
When the conversations got too loud to hear the Victrola, I put on a cd of some gypsy music and enticed the lovely R into pulling on a coin belt and performing 3 songs with me; I was a bit nervous because I didn't know everyone all that well, especially JJ's older sister visiting from Texas, but in no time at all I had relaxed & was playing with R like we do every week. People liked the end of the first song, with its very melodic ney (Egyptian flute) part, which lends itself to spinning. Spinning is what we did, the edges of our flared skirts just touching, hair flying, arms up bent at the elbows, palms to the sky.
Spinning feels like it scoops up the energy in the room and amps it all up; people started the clap clap clap clap and around we went, whirl whirl wild. The real crowd pleaser, though, is R's veilwork-- she is such sweet poetry in motion. The veil with her hair and her skirt all twirling, moving like water... I love it. We left them wanting more, which is as it should be.
By this time my dear darling S had gotten completely snockered on red wine. I had refrained from drinking, because while a little red wine is good for dancing, too much of it makes for an equilibrium-off-balance disaster. I don't know if I've ever seen S so drunk. I'd seem him tipsy, sure, but the word for Saturday night was definitely drunk, and bossy in a most endearing manner. I will say this about him, his bossiness got all those shy musicians to bust out their guitars and start singing. He provided our big tupperware container with "CAT FOOD" written on it to KJ, along with some forks to use for thumpa thumping. Homemade tympani. He got out his violin and sawed away, mostly in tune, often off beat, always fiddling happy. I joined in with my zils (finger cymbals) and JJ sang lovely nonsense; those without instruments clapped. It took about ten minutes for everyone to fall into the motion, but then for three full minutes we had a real improvisational song roaring along like a freight train and it was a glorious thing. It seemed by common consensus everyone wrapped it up and ended it together, amidst much joy and laughter.
After the group wildness, everyone took turns singing and playing, some solos, but often together. All the ladies sang along with JJ when she did a ferocious "Women be wise," with Tebone playing his guitar and he's from Texas so he says, "GUIT-ar." Half the party was in the kitchen, as always happens, and later Tebone and S were drinking and ranting in the kitchen with KJ. I went in there and turned off the lights so we could all see Tebone's t-shirt with the glow-in-the-dark skulls.
Wild and woolly somebody kept stealing my whiskey, but I didn't really care. A group hug said goodbye to Tebone & JJ, and then KJ was the last to leave about 3 in the morning.
I was stone cold sober when everyone left, which turned out to be a blessing, because I was able to take care of a spinny sick S, who said the next day he didn't remember getting his pajamas on, and I also managed to clean up all the little isolated messes before climbing into bed. I was surprised at how little a mess there was for how much fun we all had.
Also, I felt great on Sunday, and the house was clean, so I spent the day reading some Hemingway short stories, brushing the dogs, and baking a rice dish with the left-over salmon while S slept off his humdinger of a hootenanny hangover.
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