The old songs
Aug. 25th, 2012 10:59 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
shewhomustBank Holiday weather: cold, grey and rainy. Fortunately we had our day at the seaside midweek, when we went to Whitby to join the Bears for a day at the Folk Festival.
We arrived later than we had intended to, because a few miles down the road from home, the car started making that noise again, and it seemed wiser to turn round and take it straight back to the garage. They had replaced the exhaust a week or so ago, and this had cured the first noise, but seemed to have caused another, an irregular clonking, which they had in theory also fixed, by securung a heat shield. Now the mechanic raised the car so he could demonstrate the looseness of another piece of heat shielding, and how that would produce a tapping noise. It seemed to be the wrong sort of noise, and from the wrong location, but we agreed that it sounds different from inside the car. He fixed it, and then we all went for a drive, and after a few miles we were about to concede that yes, that did indeed seem to have fixeed it when we hit a pothole and - clonk. "That noise?" asked the mechanic. "Yes, that noise." This turned out to be a different manifestation of the new exhaust not exactly fitting the old car, and easily fixable, and we were on our way little more than an hour late.
Late enough, though, to change our plans for the afternoon. By the time we arrived, GirlBear had already set off for the Swedish fiddle and nyckelharpa* music. We had a quick lunch, and then went to a family concert - not a concert suitable for families, necessarily, but a concert by people who were families, all parents and children rather than siblings, though I don't know whether this was by accident or design. It certainly provided an interesting display of family dynamics. At one extreme were the Doyles, Simon Doyle and his silent daughters - silent in the sense of not speaking, but fine musicians), but again and again father would preside, leading the ensemble but inviting the other family members to perform party pieces; and again and again the daughter's performance was outstanding. Which was the family** where the young daughter gave every appearance of wishing she were miles away, while her brother joked about hangovers and late nights - and then delivered an uncanny ballad in which the lady gets the better of her demon lover? The Davenport family were fun, and GirlBear joined us in time for the concert's final act, Sandra Kerr, Nancy Kerr and James Fagan: exceptional as a mother-daughter family and exceptional because they were just so much fun.
My only regret is that it was a long concert, and we barely had time to stretch from sitting, and to eat at the Thai restaurant in the converted chapel, and we were off for the evening's session, another long session, having barely seen daylight in between. Sisters (more family) Ruth and Sadie Price opened the show, traditional material, strong arrangements and lots of attack: usually I'm all for audience joining in, but for once I was sorry that there was so much singing along, because it rather swamped what the performers had constructed. Of the other performers, Siobhan Miller stood out for me, both for her interesting and varied repertoire and her appealing voice. Damien Barber and Mike Wilson ("the youngest Wilson") closed the show with an act which would could have held its own as comedy, all crosstalk and repartee, if it weren't that then we wouldn't have had the songs (a fine version of Down Where the Drunkards Roll).
Followed by a long drive home - though shorter than the drive out! And worth it, either way.
*Nyckelharpa, explains BoyBear, is what you'd get if you wanted a hurdygurdy but hadn't invented the wheel yet. I was sorry to miss it. (picture here)
**The programme is sold rather than given away, so I didn't have a chance to pick one up; many but not all of the guests are listed on the Festival website. So we're relying on my memory: sorry about that.
We arrived later than we had intended to, because a few miles down the road from home, the car started making that noise again, and it seemed wiser to turn round and take it straight back to the garage. They had replaced the exhaust a week or so ago, and this had cured the first noise, but seemed to have caused another, an irregular clonking, which they had in theory also fixed, by securung a heat shield. Now the mechanic raised the car so he could demonstrate the looseness of another piece of heat shielding, and how that would produce a tapping noise. It seemed to be the wrong sort of noise, and from the wrong location, but we agreed that it sounds different from inside the car. He fixed it, and then we all went for a drive, and after a few miles we were about to concede that yes, that did indeed seem to have fixeed it when we hit a pothole and - clonk. "That noise?" asked the mechanic. "Yes, that noise." This turned out to be a different manifestation of the new exhaust not exactly fitting the old car, and easily fixable, and we were on our way little more than an hour late.
Late enough, though, to change our plans for the afternoon. By the time we arrived, GirlBear had already set off for the Swedish fiddle and nyckelharpa* music. We had a quick lunch, and then went to a family concert - not a concert suitable for families, necessarily, but a concert by people who were families, all parents and children rather than siblings, though I don't know whether this was by accident or design. It certainly provided an interesting display of family dynamics. At one extreme were the Doyles, Simon Doyle and his silent daughters - silent in the sense of not speaking, but fine musicians), but again and again father would preside, leading the ensemble but inviting the other family members to perform party pieces; and again and again the daughter's performance was outstanding. Which was the family** where the young daughter gave every appearance of wishing she were miles away, while her brother joked about hangovers and late nights - and then delivered an uncanny ballad in which the lady gets the better of her demon lover? The Davenport family were fun, and GirlBear joined us in time for the concert's final act, Sandra Kerr, Nancy Kerr and James Fagan: exceptional as a mother-daughter family and exceptional because they were just so much fun.
My only regret is that it was a long concert, and we barely had time to stretch from sitting, and to eat at the Thai restaurant in the converted chapel, and we were off for the evening's session, another long session, having barely seen daylight in between. Sisters (more family) Ruth and Sadie Price opened the show, traditional material, strong arrangements and lots of attack: usually I'm all for audience joining in, but for once I was sorry that there was so much singing along, because it rather swamped what the performers had constructed. Of the other performers, Siobhan Miller stood out for me, both for her interesting and varied repertoire and her appealing voice. Damien Barber and Mike Wilson ("the youngest Wilson") closed the show with an act which would could have held its own as comedy, all crosstalk and repartee, if it weren't that then we wouldn't have had the songs (a fine version of Down Where the Drunkards Roll).
Followed by a long drive home - though shorter than the drive out! And worth it, either way.
*Nyckelharpa, explains BoyBear, is what you'd get if you wanted a hurdygurdy but hadn't invented the wheel yet. I was sorry to miss it. (picture here)
**The programme is sold rather than given away, so I didn't have a chance to pick one up; many but not all of the guests are listed on the Festival website. So we're relying on my memory: sorry about that.
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no subject
Date: 2012-08-26 02:46 pm (UTC);-D
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Date: 2012-08-26 09:39 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-08-26 09:51 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-08-27 08:39 am (UTC)It's fixed, but it's a reminder to us that it's an old car and we really need to be looking for a replacement- before we *have* to!
no subject
Date: 2012-08-29 09:44 am (UTC)I had to laugh at your explanation of the (swedish?) nyckelharpa, because I´ve had the misfortune of listening to many an untuned one at local festivities up in Viking Land and I must say, I prefer the funky (well...more or less) folk fiddle which can be at least as harsh on sensible ears.
The young man with the demon lover ballad seems to be experienced in the Jimi Hendrix sense, hence?