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October 30th, 2009
01:47 pm - Daze of whine and roses A LOOOOOONG final week report
Sorry for the lack of cuts. Technical reasons made it impractical this time around.
Saying goodbye to Pint and Dale at Samantha's
The Thursday before fair saw the departure of our dear friends, Pint and Dale for their home on the Far-Left Coast. They have been brightening the house of Paul and Janie for the past several months. You may remember them as the stand-out wonderful performers who brightened the Pyrate/Adventurers/Harley Davidson Weekend with a surprising and wonderful version of "Rolling Down To Old Maui". They are heroes to your humble PRs; and a constant source of inspiration.
Some of us sent them on their way by dining at Samantha's Restaurant in lower Silver Spring. It's the finest little Hispanic dining spot that your humble corespondent has had the pleasure to experience. It was a wonderful meal with wonderful people. I did what I could to pass on the remains of my illness to enrich their 2,600 mile drive home. Only time will tell if I was successful.
Let's go to the fair!
The weather gods that mocked us last weekend decided to have one final go at the hardworking denizens of Revel Grove. During cast call, Carolyn passed on the happy new forecast news that we could expect a few light showers in early afternoon, a chance of a thunderstorm around 4pm, but that the day would generally be pretty good. The cast cheered mightily.
Thus challenged, the laughing Sky Gods decided to send a monsoon our way. A dry set at the Globe and somewhat dank early afternoon sets progressed to an amazing gully-washer that intensified from 4 pm on. We needed scuba gear to do pubsing. Were it not for the dedicated umbrella holding of a volunteer patron, we would probably have drowned though the simple act of singing. Some patrons had to be restrained from joining in solidarity with the brave table-dancers. In my twenty years of performing at MDRF I have not seen weather as perverse as this year.
The downpour ended at nearly the same instant as the pubsing. The cannon fired (amazing in the high humidity), and the amassed drenched masses made their way to the front gate. In no time at all the parking lot again became a pit of viscosity, inertia and despair.
We held back and changed to warm dry street clothes...except for our boots. Soon enough cars had sunk in the mire that we could drive to firm ground over their roofs, oblivious to the muffled screams from below. I guess good things really do come to those who wait.
A small group of pyrates and friends made our way to the Lemon Grass Thai restaurant to meet Julianne and Richard, our Pittsburghian associates. It was a delightful meal punctuated by observations on les vie de les musicienne and our various loves. Speaking of punctuation, I was viciously attacked by a Thai chair, resulting in actual blood-loss. I've never been stabbed by a chair before. Next time I'll be on my guard.
Sunday was much better. The weather was beautiful throughout the day. We even did a few newish song that we had been trying out through the year.
Pub Sing was predictably huge. I was still a bit vocally trashed by the remains of the illness from the week before, so I didn't sing any leads. I just did guitar backup on Nicole's lovely interpretation of Dougey Mclean's “Caledonia”, John and Mary's “Who Knows Where The Time Goes”, and Darcy's “The Boatman”.
A Pyrate Swallows The Anchor
This final sing was made more melancholy by the secret we have been keeping for several months. Our friend and colleague Paul has decided to leave the band after performing with us for the past seven or so years. We gave him a gold watch profusely decorated with Mallards. Paul retires from active service to spend more time supporting the songwriting career of his sweetie, Janie. She is the author of "Twiddles", "You don't know Jack", and "The Brigantine"; all part of our regular song rotation. He sent himself off with a performance of our friend Bob Zentz's insightful "Horizons". It was a perfectly chosen ender for Drake's official run with the PRs.
A Cream-Filled Homage
The other celebrated departure noted at Pub Sing was the death last week of Comedian Cum Laude Soupy Sales. This man was one of the late Vaudeville greats who brought their well-honed cornball comedy skills to the early days of television. In so doing he, along with Hope, Berle, Burns, Allen, and a host of others, passed on those skills to the physical comedians of today. Thus it was with more respect than was probably apparent to the casual pub show observer that both Jack Rackham and the King took cream pies to the face during the Sunday presentation.
We were surprised by a stealth visit from Richard The Merry Minstrel as the pub lights went out!
Fin!
a bit of a rant
Drunken masses- why do they come to pubsing. Several friends have posted videos of the final pubsing show on Facebook. The single outstanding feature of the videos is the extraordinary din of the crowds. ***Now, I have frequently said that any singer who plays in a bar and expects to be treated with the respect of Carnegie Hall is a deluded fool. The White Hart is a bar, and people drink and talk loudly in bars.*** That being noted, I wonder how satisfying it can be to hear our show behind the level of chatter I've heard on those videos.
In the dim dark past of Revel Grove the pub sings started in a very organic way. Three performers, Linda Behr, Mike Waters, and Peter Benson began meeting in the first version of the White Hart after they were off duty in late afternoon. They sat about and exchanged songs and tunes for themselves while waiting for the day to end and parking lots to empty. Their meetings recalled an earlier time when minstrels would do much the same thing for the simple love of music. The audience was each other, not fair patrons. Over time, other performers and a few patrons began joining them to share in this gentle exchange. At some point the gathering became codified into an official event. Those folks who were there because they just wanted to be eventually began to be required to be there. the bigger pub sings became one of "the" places to be to end your fair day. In the ensuing years the authentic folk music being traded for its own sake has gradually been moved aside in favor of mostly loud smashy flashy songs and gags to catch the ears of the now grossly swollen drunk masses of the final weekends. Don't get me wrong. I love the performers who join us on stage. But it must be admitted that little remains of the original feel of the gathering at the end of day.
Several times this years performers have had to politely ask groups of patrons standing along the wall near the stage to shut the fuck up because they were drunkenly yelling at each other from a few feet apart so loudly that THEY WERE BEING PICKED UP BY THE STAGE MICS OR MAKING IT DIFFICULT FOR THE PERFORMERS TO HEAR THEMSELVES!!! Generally they complied, and sometimes even apologized.
Is the real problem that pubsing has grown out of its surroundings? I have no solution. All that I can hope is that, when the plans are made for the White Hart in whatever location MDRF settles on, that a lot of input is allowed from performers, to try to improve the experience for those who want to hear the shows.
The Silent Service
Linda, Mer and Hemloche, the unsung heroes of our camp, once again provided exemplary service . Without their tireless work, Moldy Cove would be much less fun and tasty. Plus Linda provides much needed muscle to keep the riff-raff from getting in or out of the camp gate. Yay, Team!
Barber-qued Victuals.
I have not properly sung the praises of the mysteriously tasty meat which ThatthereLiarandEnemyofTheHonestWorkingManDiego has been regularly bringing to Moldy Cove over many of the weeks of fair. Even though the origins of said delicious delicately smoked flesh have been difficult to determine; whatever they were in life, they died for a good cause. He has tipped us that they are from the supplier of "the best meat pies in all London", so that's good enough for me. In any case we are thankful for his extensive efforts.
The fans keep on giving!
We were given Syphilis, Gonorrhea, and Ebola during the fair in the form of cute plush microbes. They are soooo cute.
I also got an extra pyrate ball on the final weekend. It’s bouncy!
The worst kept secret in Revel Grove this year is that I seem to have acquired a shiny new girlfriend. I refuse to consider what combination of her bad choices and my extraordinary good luck has caused this change. We share shockingly similar tastes in music. I am deeply grateful for her companionship, beauty, and love. In celebration of her Swedish heritage, she also introduced me to shopping at IKEA. How could you not love this woman???
All I know for sure is that I’ve been told by several people that I am now considered a hero to middle-aged men everywhere. I’ve started designing the costume already. There will be no cape.
Over the past several days we have been removing gear from the Pyrate Petting Zoo (AKA Moldy Cove). All food and drink is now out of reach of the natural inhabitants, even the skinks. Most notably Britannia has been removed from the wall and placed in a secure undisclosed location until her skills are needed next year. The tent walls might or might not last another season. We’ll be continuing this process and preparing for the trek to the Carolina fair in a couple of weeks.
Thanks for all your support this year.
Current Music: Kranski's "Die Kröte in Ruhen " ein Idylle
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October 20th, 2009
11:15 am - 2 1/2 weeks- Now with 3(remainder2.5)x less Mickey Rourke
(it's a badly constructed higher math/ pop culture joke- don't worry if you don't get it)
Oktoberfest- presented in splotchy beer stain format.(#)
#A visit from a familiar German court lady from Florida...Mother Lowe, why did you bring us no oranges??? Don't you lowe us anymore?
#OKtoberfest Angie!
#Um-pah bands- I always love them...for the first 20 minutes.
#Bayside Brass. Played the Beer Barrel Polka continously for three hours straight.
#Sylvia's group- The Alpen Mountain Snow-Covered Blue Pointy Peaky Distant Thingees We All Admire Band enduring an endless string of tasteless Hitler jokes from some pyrate band after playing their beautiful music.(can't we all just stop the hating? I mean, how bad could he have been???)
#Relatively few Oktoberdrunks!
# various delightful visitors to the Pyrate Petting Zoo. I'd name you all, but I should have written this two weeks ago.
#Wonderful weather- We Beer snobs know that Beer should be consumed with an ambient air temperature of 67 degrees.
# A truly strange appalling series of jokes at pubsing told while wearing little mustaches made us wince while laughing.
#Bring me a boat-Now enhanced with a sweet kiss, reminded a few of us of the scene in "A Mighty Wind"...a kiss at the end of the rainbow...sweet.
Shakespeare weekend brought many thespians with lots of declaiming and stuff. You couldn't spit in Revel Grove without hitting Romeo, Juliet, or Richard the III in the gob. I know, I tried.
The new in-house Much Ado About Nothing was a hit, in spite of the off-putting title.
From time to time our various friends bring us savory delights to buy our affections and avoid our infections. Our friend Sam approached us with a pie that was baked, I kid you not, in the parking lot of the fair. He and our pal Susan, and their agents who had a kitchen equipped a camper van, had conspired to present the sexiest pie in the history of pie. T'were a caramelized pear, sour cherry, ginger pie with an oaty crust.
It was so good that I wanted to smear it all over my sweaty body. It was so good that I want to have its children.
It was so good that YOU CAN'T HAVE ANY, IT'S MIIIIIIIINE!!!!
It was so good that my brain hurts thinking about it.
Many folks were allowed to sample a tiny bit. Each in turn would pop a morsel in their mouths, begin making the required polite "hey, that's good" comments, then stop talking as they were be overcome by a level of lust known only to Gollum. They would beg, demand, cry, plead for more as their eyes rolled back into their heads.
NOOOO, It Isssss MIIIIIIIINE.
Soon it was gone, leaving me with unquenchable anger that I must endure the rest of my wretched existence without the sexiest pie in the history of pie.
I paid Sam back by gifting him with a big slimey drippy plastic stingray. That boy will eat anything.
oh the pain...suffering for our art.
( self-indulgent whinging follow)Over the course of the weekend I managed to annoy my body in several ways. A sore knee progressed into a gout attack and bloated up like a dead whale on a hot beach; my left eye developed a puffy infecty lid; my throat disliked all the fair dust grinding away at the various vocal chords; the left wrist was sore from hours of practice with the bouzuki. A costumery choice for the PJ pubshow decreased my general love of life. I had much the same pirate bedroom slippers as Mr. Fairbanks. In trying to not copy her look exactly, I used my normal boot on the left foot while the slipper went on the right. I didn't fully understand that the difference of 1 1/2 inches of heel on the left foot could screw up my back to a remarkable degree. My spine slowly contracted into a question mark. By the time I got home the aggregation of these annoyances made me look much like Quasimodo...or Mickey Rourke in that Wrastlin' movie...but without the botox lips. Strangely, all these things happened to the left side of my body. The right side was all right.
The barely controlled chaos of pubsing was brightened for me by the sight of a dear friend fiddling away for the first time in that venue with her bandmates. Yay!
In spite of my agony (which I don't want to make a big deal about, since the show must go on...or some theater crap like that) I and the town Sheriff did what turned out to be a servicable presentation of a song from "Much Ado". T'was "Sigh No More", in which male singers essentially council the ladies that men are all dogs, we will be unfaithful, eat their delicately prepared food with our grimey fingers. and that we will ALWAYS leave the toilet seat up; and since we have told you this, if you fall into the can because you couldn't be bothered to turn on a light before sitting down, you were warned. I mean, what if there was a plunger stuck in the thing???...so it's all your fault and you just need to get over it.
Of course, it sounds much prettier when Shakespeare wrote it.
Two things, though. I had been taught the first verse of the song 2 years back by our Frenchie fiddler, Fifi. the lyrics had prompting drifted around in my head until they were only a bit like what Shakespeare had written. I thought it a bit cheeky of me to edit the Bard. I spent the week before the show relearning it and trying to remember the second verse. I found out late in the week that I would be performing it as a duet with the sheriff, Eddy Pierce. We have never sung together, but we whipped up an arrangement in 30 frenzied minutes of practice at the tent. We blended surprisingly well, and I was very pleased with the performance.
Scottish weekend was extremely authentic. Reeeediculously cold and wet, mud everywhere, no sound systems, horses slipping in mire, hoop skirts slipping in mire. Where were all those snotty jerks who say that Fair isn't authentic enough??? only about 4,500 souls showed up. PARF closed. MDRF stayed open.
We did our Globe set with the small audience on stage. It was raining so hard that the overhang of the globe was dripping through the starry fabric ceiling. We made sure to place their chairs under as many of the drips as possible.
We alternated which side we did our pub sets in, eschewing the "screaming from the drippy stage till our throats bled" option. In spite of this I had to leave after the 4:00 pm set, as I succumbed to a grype which has me in its grasp even now. The band sailored on without me on Sunday. Many patrons asked about how the music had improved so dramatically.
Bilge Lung. We hates it. Pray for me...sniffle.
The only thing giving me a will to live is the thought that one day I may once again have
a caramelized pear, sour cherry, ginger pie with an oaty crust. MIIIIIIIIIIIIiiiine.
Current Music: Kranski's" die Kröte Und Pastete Polkas "Bettlerharfe und kazoo
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October 9th, 2009
02:28 pm - Science In Our Lives-Moon-Bomb Big Mistake
My expected OktoberFest post has been delayed until next week due to this breaking news
(Dateline Oct.09,2009 Ames, Iowa) LCROSS Impact drives Moon into new North-South Orbit. Scientists say,"Whoops, my bad". Tidal changes, stress fractures on Earth surface proected to wipe out life on planet from tectonic activity, mega-storms, mega-floods, mega-famines, mega-insects, and mega-chickens.
Ames Research Center spokesman, Dr. Aldo Biggworduser, apologized for the lack of pretty pictures that various media outlets had expected but suggested the problem is scientifically interesting in that even unexpected results can be informative and could result in important funding until, "You know, we all die, and stuff. On the other hand it does kinda put that whole "we're going to be hit by a meteor in 2039 thing into perspective." He then went on to rob a local bank while naked, rape his Weber barbaque, and drive his car into a cornfield at high speed.
A representative of the Worldwide Tick and Cockroach Union commented during its weekly guest spot on Fox News that "We sorta expected this whole 'death to humans' thing would involve a lot more radiation, but we'll take what we can get." Noted author and commentator Sean Hannity went farther in proclaiming the 14 year program's unexpected cullmination as,"Yet another example of the failed Obama Administration failed socialist-antiAmerican-wrong-thinking-my sweet-little-old-grandmother-killing-guntaking-away-tradition-hating-stupid-stupidhead-Liberal-stupidhead failed stupids doing...stupids" then began crying, urinating while frothing at the mouth, wrapped himself in an enormous American flag and rushed around the studio biting camera equipment. Regular viwers recognized this as his normal closing remarks.
NASA is expected to manufacture videos shortly showing that the Centaur booster casing actually riccochayed, ah, rckichayed...dammit, riccyshayed, ...bounced off an old Soviet spy satellite, which gave it the unexpected velocity that is going to ultimately kill us all.
The White House has announced that the President will be making a televised address this evening to discuss the impact of this event on his being awarded the Nobel Prize.
---updates to follow---
Current Music: Kranski's Klavier Einlage " die Kröte Und Mond "
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October 2nd, 2009
01:19 pm - Mixed Pyrate Stew, and Skivee Takes A Shower!
This past weekend was MDRF's pirate invasion. Our friends The Crinsom Pirate, The Rambling Sailors, Letter of Marque, Pint and Dale, members of the Ships Company, and Louie the Moor all contributed in various dregees of officiality. There were about 17 pirates on stage Sunday for a massed Moron Tar-Barnacle Choir version of "Mingualay". Some sweet harmonies resulted. Conflicting schedules prevented us from co-mingling at other times. I blame the French.
We were visited by the lovely and talented Ani Moore. Her beamy smilitude made up for semi-dismal weather and eventually chased the clouds away on Sunday.
(in a private note to Kundrasslipper: Your cookie bribery, although exceptionally tasty (yes!), will eventually fail to earn the tiny coin pies[AKA tears of the goddess] of your desiring. YOU MAY BEGIN YOUR PATHETIC WEEPING NOW, BEEEYOTCH! Oh, if you could bring more of those cookies, it would be appreciated)
The captain's Pirate Home Companion radio pub show show was fun. I particularly liked the O'Danny Girls Commercials, even though they did reveal the secret ingedient in MacIntyre Hard Tack Biscuits. Pint and Dale's kick-ass version of "Maui" was a hoot to hear. They make whale slaughter so much fun!
I found a Thai restaurant near the fair that got high marks for food, but mixed marks on service. I'll try them again to decide which way the thumb points.
One high point of the meal for many customers was watching a couple making out with vigor in the corner bench seat. He was laying 3/4 across her reclining form as they whispered sweet somethings to each other. One more wine spritzer each and I think we would have had quite a floor show. No, they were not Rennies.
A Product Non-endorsement
Many moons ago PyrateLady's husband gave me a product that he had tried and didn't much care for. Pfizer(tm) Sudacare(tm) Shower Soothers(tm) Tablets.
Various members of the PR production team have succumbed to the cold that is making the rounds. I was my turn this week; the first cold I've had in about 2 years. (...and it hasn't been that bad a cold.) It was the first chance I had to try the Shower Soothers.
I followed the directions and dropped a big honkin' tablet on the shower floor in the hot water stream. The disc began dissolving and released the promised eucalyptus, camphor, and menthol vapors. They started working at clearing my sinuses, but also made my eyes sting a fair bit. To the point that I spent most of the shower with my eyes shut tight. Something else in the tablet made my shower smell like a whole lot of mentholated horse piss. This unlikable funk did nothing to improve either the shower experience or my cold. I eschewed my earlier plan to take a long hot shower in favor of an enforced water conservation regimin.
After toweling off I noticed the following caution on the box,"Product becomes hot when activated by water. Avoid touching tablet during use". I'm glad I didn't step on the thing in my small shower! Oh, and my sinuses were not all that cleared by the vapors.
So if somewhat nose clearing eye-stinging unto blindness, possibly foot-scalding, funky horse urine smelling showers are your thing, then you should rush out and get some Shower Soothers. As for me?...N'aaaaah.
Instead I may opt for the Octoberfest/Drunk-Off-Your-Ass Cold Cure(tm) this weekend. Bring on the Um-pah music!
Current Music: Kranski's Tone Poem "Die Kröte In Herbst Schauer"
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September 23rd, 2009
08:41 pm - Drunks, My Stupid Stupidity, A Music Hero Moment, and a PSA
Irish weekend brought the vanguard flocks of returning drunks to Revel Grove. Their annual migration will probably peak around the Drunktoberfest weekend when they will be visible in the thousands, but the early crowds proved that they can drink with skill and alacrity.
The Kanye moment at pub sing was pretty funny. I mean I was happy that he got to do it, and that I let him finish; but the truth is that the best Kanye moment was when that Shakespeare guy did that Othello play. That was the best, just the best.(Have I beaten that horse enough?)
And now, please indulge me while I relate a pretty dumb thing I did over the weekend; something that could easily have ended my guitar playing career but for merest chance.
I'm not kidding.
When this was all over I was amazed that I could have made such a stupid move:
On Saturday evening some of us retired to the shelter of a friend's house in Crownsville for a delightful meal and rest. Our friend Janie reminded me a time ago that not all food comes out of boxes to be heated by a microwave. Janie has shown me how to make a wonderful meal out of a simple salad; Goodly lettuce, ripe tomatoes, shitake shrooms, dried tomatoes, cherry mozzarella balls, avocado bits, creamy Caesar dressing, and big lumps of roasted chicken provide all we need to feed our selves very well indeed. I generally am able to remember which end of a knife is the pointy bit and why. Knife safety is something I have known about since well before I got my "Totin' Chip" badge in Sea Scouts. So of course I recall the number one rule for safety: NEVER USE A KNIFE TOWARDS YOU.
It was firmly in my mind while I chopped most of the ingredients, but somehow forgotten as I was preparing the third avocado. I got to the point when you remove the seed. I speared the seed and tried to lift it out from the gummy embrace of the pulp. I used way too much force and it broke free at an awkward moment. My muscle tension forced my seed-capped knife into my palm with amazing force. The seed broke away and flew across the room, while the point of the knife skittered up and to the left as I tried to stop its momentum. I just BARELY cut the tiniest nick into the base of my left index finger...a mere pinprick. While hyperventilating in contemplation several minutes later I noticed that the seed had hit my palm with so much force that I was developing a quarter-sized swelling bruise in my palm. Compression and ice took care of most of this. I was Very Lucky...and very stupid. This knowledge is even more profound because I had done much the same thing two weeks ago, but without the near miss. The somewhat achey bruised palm reminded me of my stupid through most of the day Sunday. I am not allowed to cut avocados for a while.
The coming weekend is our Pyrate Invasion/ Adventurers/Harley Enthusiasts/ Burning Man weekend. We always look forward to seeing the perennial invasion of the Jack Sparrows mingling with the aforementioned drunks as they commute between wherever they come from to wherever they go. On the other hand, there is an aspect of the weekend that kinda pisses me off. This is when some Jack Sparrow, plastic beer cup in one hand and cigarette in the other, repeatedly poses with patrons in from of our camp, using us as a photo opportunity backdrop. It ticks me off because of the great amount of money and work involved in preparing the PR campsite. The thousands of dollars (think the tent, the weapons, costumes, and slaves) and weeks of camp prep are for the visual benefit of the band and festival. It's not that I mind the occasional photo; but some of the more hammy amateur JSs plant themselves right there in a calculated effort to appear to be connected with or in charge of the crew.
Over time, I have developed a way to disperse 95% of them. I call out, "Hey Is that Jack Sparrow?" in a very loud voice. The JS in question will generally return my hail with enthusiasm, happy for the attention. I banter loudly with Jack for a time, letting them simmer in the glory, then I loudly follow with the question," Hey Jack, Where's that Twenty Pounds you still owe me, you cheap bastard???" Nearly every time the Jack S in question will take it as chance to show how well he knows his character persona, and says" Why, I have it...right over there, pointing vaguely into the distance", and stumbles semi-drunkenly off with speed.
You see, I might be dumber than an avocado pit, but I'm still smarter than most Jack Sparrows.
On Tuesday I went to the XM/Sirius Radio studios. The great powerhouse English folk-rock band Steeleye Span played an hour set to be broadcast on Robert Aubrey Davis' "The Village" program. If you have XM radio be sure to listen for this. They were very important popularizers of the the tradition that we draw much of our material from.
We heard rock versions of Child Ballads, rude country songs, and the inevitable ballads of death by plague.
They finished by inviting us to sing along for their big number "All Around My Hat". Nearly everyone in the audience were professional folk singers singers. The resulting 35 part harmony surprised Maddy Prior so much that she dropped her headphones while beaming broadly.
I spoke very briefly to her about her performance on Mike Oldfield's Hiawatha. She seemed astonished that anyone remembered it from 31 years ago.
And Finally:
The Wenches of Local 42 Food Drive in Katelyn’s Memory Where: Maryland Renaissance Festival, outside of the Season Pass Holder Gate When: Saturday, September 26 (just prior to gate open to noon) P.S. Please feel free to cross post at will.
Current Music: Kranski's " die Kröte und Besteck Blatt " ein Volkstanz als Orgel
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September 18th, 2009
01:45 am - A Few Week 3 Notes And A Hero's Return
Those damned Gypsophilias invaded our camp this past #3 weekend. Yasmine tried to bribe her way into our hearts good graces with Wilbers Buds and her bright glowy smile. She was partially successful in that we were forced to endure playing several tunes with them. Luckily Fairbanks didn't bring her baby for them to steal. We hates their sparkly musicianitude, exciting polyrhythms, and dazzling outfits.grrrrr. We'll probably have to have them return a few more times.
The weather continued towards more bearable temps, with little rain and moderate hornet annoyance.
Alma, the visiting Flaminco singer, and David, her guitar player enjoyed the hospitality of Moldy Cove. They chose to visit late in the day, which allowed us time to devour all the food we might have been forced to share with them, because we are polite and all that crap. She seemed to not understand my attempts to communicate with her in my excellent Spanish:"Cuando Mi tio es enfermo, la carraterra es verde, pero en un boca cerrado no entran moscas. Yo soy marinaro, no soy capitan, no soy capitan". Clearly, those Spanish folks need to learn more about how to speak their own language.
The cutest pixie on the planet, the darling Jackie, came to one of our pubshows and brightened our day. Yea, Jackie! She is so cute squinting up at our rude performances.
My mug seemed to have sprung a leak, as both days I found myself leaping onto the stage for pubsing without a filled mug. Both times I was rescued from thirst by our friends on the east wall, who quickly replaced my potables. They have what passes for my gratitude.:-)
And this also:
So that's where he's been for so long!
Current Music: Kranski's " die Kröte Blicke Zu Unendlichkeit Und Hinter "Ein Polska
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September 10th, 2009
06:02 pm - Bugs, Stars And Tiny Pies
Sorry to be remiss in posting about the new season. I'll make up for it soon. In the mean time, I'll share these things:
I saw an odd thing at the White Hart stage twice over the first weekend. Once each day I saw a willow leaf flying gracefully through the air near the stage, and climbing UP(!) into the trees. Both times they were turned like a feather into the wind, but strangely vertically oriented. A falling leaf would fall flat. And then there's the whole upward falling part of the equation.
I wear contacts most times, but they sorta suck as far as fine details for me a fair amount of the time. So it was only on the second sighting that I understood that I was seeing katydids floating through the air, their wings immobile, as nearly invisible dark wasps carried them to their doom. Stung and immobilized; they were being airlifted back to hidey holes to be slowly feed on by the next oviposited generation of nearly invisible dark wasps grubs. I know this kind of thing goes on all the time, but in 20 years of playing at fair, I had never seen this insecty behavior.
WARNING [BUG-O-Phobes please Skip to the next topic] WARNING
In other buggy news I was asked to remove an intruder in the camp. As previously reported, there are some folks who don't deal well with spiders. I do not mock people's phobias unless they are really funny. Since arachnophobia is generally only a little funny, I do not mock them.
I was directed to the largest, most beautiful male golden garden spider I've seen. It had made a web from the handle of our ridiculously big wooden camp hammer. Long elegant black legs held in a dark "X" framed a bright yellow, white, and black body.
These are generally unaggressive spiders, and they do lots of insect eating, so I approve of their efforts. I moved it to a bush behind the tent, where it can happily take it's part in the great circle of life.
BUG-O-PHOBE WARNING OFF.
On the other hand, here's an image that's symbolic of, errr, symbolic stuff.
Cosmic Butterfly
The nebula is one of the first images released after the HST was revived from near death in May. It shows the final stage in the life if a star...gettin' blowed up. And we all know how cool it is to blow stuff up. Later, the various elements being thrown out by the death of this star will condense into other new stars. The scene is about 2 light years across.
Copy the image to some photo viewer and zoom into it. The deep center of the nebula is stunning. If you look carefully, you can see the whirlpool of destruction centered on the remains of the old star's heart.
That bit of cosmic art brings to mind an discourteously unheralded bit of perfection from the first day of the season. The beauteeeeeful tiny peach pielets donated to the hungru pyrates of Moldy Cove the first weekend. I'd share a photo but we ate all the cute little buggers up.
Nom-Namastastic, oh Ani, my goddess.
Current Music: Kranski's" Stern Tanz Des Kröte " Ein Idylle
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August 25th, 2009
03:10 am - Even In A Technological World...
...sometimes the old solutions are most effective:
this is pretty much what we've all done in our heads a thousand times
NSFW for rude text
Current Music: Kranski's " die Kröte und die Behilflich Blödian " Ein Fagott Duett
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August 21st, 2009
12:47 am - An Instrument of Folk Music History
I like living in the DC area because of the big ol' chunks of history contained in the region.
You can't spit here without hitting something that was important to someone who is dead now.
On occasion, history spits back and hits me. Such was the case a few days ago when I was asked by friends at the Library of Congress for a favor*. To wit: "Would I like to come to the Archive of Folk Culture in the American Folklife Center and change the strings on Burl Ives' guitar?".
"Hell, yes. I will change Burl Ives' Guitar strings."
Ives will be known to many of you for his voice-over work on various Christmas specials. "Have A Holly, Jolly Christmas" is one of his best known X-mas songs. He also had a substantial acting career. To members of my peer group he was better known for singing rather corn-ball Americana folksongs through most of the 1940-70s. I won't list them all. But let it be said that (back in the days when folk music was played along-side country, Sinatra, show tunes, and rock-a-billy on the same radio stations) he made a number of hits of well known folk titles about farm life, slave life, the sailor's life, the drunken gambler's life and such. I learned most of them while learning to play guitar.
So I gladly braved the oppressive heat of DC in late summer and made my way to the folk archives through streets of molten lava. The burning pigeons falling from the sky were a constant annoyance.
On arrival, I was quickly treated for my burns and ushered to the stacks, where my friend Jennifer waited with the holy icon.
The case, as all cases from that era, had a broken handle. It was part of the uniform.
I opened it and found a lovely instrument with several strings popped. Records indicate that only one other string change has been done since Ives donated it to the collection in 1989.
The guitar is a Herman Hauser II nylon string, hand made in Germany in the '60s. Very pretty. the strap is a simple thick bit of cotton clothes line or such tied off at the neck and body. This is in keeping with the adopted style of folkies pretending to be poorer than they are; because folk singers caterwaulling about working in the mines, or fishing for squid, or plowing the fields while wearing Brooks Brothers suits and driving Mercedes cars would spoil the image.
I took about an hour changing the strings and checking out the instrument.
Then I played tunes on it for another three or so hours, retuning it as the strings settled in. It is a nice guitar. Balanced tone, and a relatively thin neck. Easy to play.
While I played, I thought about Ives, his songs, how many I had learned from his records, and how much I owed to his music and his performance.
***following paragraph edited to correct a factual error***
I also thought about the damage he did to friends in the 1950s when he was dragged to DC to testify before before the Senate Internal Security Subcommittee (SISS)(In a previous version of this text I mis-identified it as HUAC. Though they were cut from the same cloth, they were different entities. Sorry for the error.)
Ives, in fear of his career being destroyed like many blacklisted artists of the day, was pressured into naming fellow folk singer friends who had expressed leftist socialist leanings and so could be accused of working for Stalin. Singing "If I had A Hammer" was viewed as "If I Had A Hammer And Sickle" by 1950s version of neo-cons. Ives caved to the goons. He seems to have deeply regretted the whole matter later in life. I made sure to play several tunes by those he damaged to help balance the karma of the guitar.
I made a detailed report on the current condition of the instrument, then headed home. On the way out, I glanced toward the Capitol Building, where the whole ugly mess happened a half century ago.
We're done with those unworthy tactics now, right?
* this isn't a precisely accurate version of what happened, but it is clearer than the exact truth.
Current Music: I. Kranski's " Krötey Gingt a-Abbetteln " Ein Volkslied
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August 18th, 2009
12:56 pm - Zombies In The News
Scientists analyze consequences of the impending attack:
Don't stand near the lab cages
Current Music: I. Kranski's " die Nicht des Lebend Außer betrieb Kröte " Ein promenade
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August 17th, 2009
02:18 am - Woodstock On Cable TV
I watched as much of Woodstock as I could stand last night. ..about 1/2 hour.
The cable network pixalated the innocent naked bodies in the skinny dippy pond and interrupted the show with an extraordinary number of commercials for remarkably materialistic products.
D'Uh
Current Music: Kranski's " Die Kröte Am Yasgur's Weiher " Ein Ildyll
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August 5th, 2009
10:54 pm - Old Ladies See Shiney Flying Discs
An amusing look at a Netflix Returns center
in this Chicago Tribune Article
Current Music: Kranski's Cinematic score"" Welches Die Kröte Sägen VI "
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August 3rd, 2009
01:14 pm - Le Vie Musician- Adventures In Performance
I'll be posting stuff about the big trip in a bit.
PyrateLady, Molly and I were performing in Southern Md. last week. It was a concert series at various campuses of the College of Southern Maryland. We were promoting PyrateLady's solo music.
CSM put most of us up at a Holiday Inn in Waldorf. This was a pretty nice rural Holiday Inn. As I stepped into the room I was shocked to see that the foyer of the room was nearly as big as the cabin on the boat. The bathroom was nearly as big as the cabin. Actually the BED was nearly as big as the cabin.
Our friends John and Kathy were also hosting one third of our trio plus baby. Their smiling faces were a nice sight at all the performances.
The concerts went well, with the exception of my repeated ham-fisted playing of a lovely song that's just thiiiiiiis (pinchy-inchy finger gesture) far outside of my comfort zone.
Sometimes I forget which end of the instrument you're supposed to blow into. Two weeks of practice had not improved my rendition as much as I had hoped.
I chatted with Dean Talley, of the Leonardtown campus and found that he shares my admiration for scores from old movies. After the concert, he and I listened to a short suite based on Waxman's music for" A Place In The Sun". The orchestration is stunning. Most folks never heard this beautiful stuff because it was secondary to the image.
There was a rather odd deal at one of the concerts. A young lady arrived for the show and immediately tossed an oddly worded statement at me. I forget what she said, because I was more impressed with her clearly fake let's make a joke with the performer, cartoony, loud "smart-ass kid in a TV sitcom voice". She sounded very much like Steve Urkell.
I very nearly answered her back in a knee-jerk Urkell reply when my internal brain filter inexplicably suddenly began functioning after years of inactivity.
It seems that she has some developement issue that involves self control. She talked loudly at random points of the show. A loud sentence or opinion offered at midtune; or too-loud laughter at small jokes. That sort of thing. Molly had had a bad time with her at a previous performance of one of her gazillion bands, ending in the young lady being banned from future shows.
Molly advised us to avoid eye contact, which the young woman would take as an invitaion to be more outgoing.
I was taking some notes at the break and happened to glance over the speakers to the stage. She had been sitting about 30 feet away in her seat, but 2 seconds later was now actually up on the stage and messing with PyrateLady's instrument mic; which was suspended just above the dulcimer. G'AAAAAAH!!!!!!! She was loudly muttering something about how cool the mic was. Lucky for her, PyrateLady was busy attending to her other precious baby.
Her surprised handlers were on her in moments. They led her away from near-certain death with skill. She was mostly contained for the rest of the show.
We completed the series and raced back home, to turn around for a PR performance in Chesapeake, Va. The normally 4-ish hour trip was taffied to nearly 7 hours by stupid traffic. Why don't these morons get off the highway when we are travelling to a job??? Dammit, we're important folk musicians! We arrived just 45 minutes before showtime.
A Shriners Temple had hired us for a pirate themed party. They were very fun folks to play for. They got all pirated up and a great time was had by all. Some wonderful costumes were seen as well as some hilariously bad ones.
We were given lodging at the nearby Red Roof Inn. What follows is through no fault of our Shriner hosts. For some reason I slept in my clothes. The bed sheets looked ...untidy.
We woke early. As we discussed the logistics of the return to the DC area, PyrateLady found one of what the Hawaiians called ukulele, and scientists refer to as Siphonotera skipping across her leg. I opined that she might have picked it up in crossing the lawn when we arrived the night before. One flea, no big deal. It happens. Then she found two more. Then I found one. Scant seconds later we had fled the fleas and packed the car faster than ever before in recorded human history.
PyrateLady did the actual checking out while I stayed in the car, scratching imagined invaders.
She told me that the clerk had not seemed startled by the news of fleas in the room; but laconically offered a $10 courtesy discount* to us (actually to the Shriners who paid for the room) and then said, "I guess we'll have to spray." As PL was relaying this to me, I imagined the woman drawling out her unconcern. I imagined a couple of parentheses appearing over her head as she completed the sentence. Between them I imagined the unspoken word "again".
We left the lovely town of Chesapeake behind and made another 6-ish hour 4 hour journey to home port.
* The courtesy discount for finding a dead hooker under your mattress is $30/ $39 with AARP.
Current Music: Kranski's " die Springen Kröte Und Die Springen Floh " ein Kuchenwandeln
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July 19th, 2009
02:14 am - Once more, once more, to go to sea once more...
In scant hours, we wend our way to Bal'mer harbor, hun, to sail into the unknown eastern seas.
We expect pink sand in our shorts and an unending supply of shrimp as big as our heads...oh, and lots of whatever it is they drink in those far off lands.
Stories and lies to follow
Current Music: Kranski's " Die Kröte Sommerlich Abenteuer " Ein Idylle
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July 13th, 2009
03:07 pm - A Shore Thing
Drake, PyrateLady and your most obedient corespondent had a nice job in Cambridge, Md. over the weekend. While this involved crossing the very same skinny Bay Bridge that I vowed to avoid after the 4th of July gigue, it was worth the danger and angst.
We played a party for a very large auto dealer chain. I’m not giving their name out of respect for their privacy. If I did, it would wow you local folks. That much is crystal clear.
The event was at an upscale resort that we could not enter as patrons. Our backdrop was a stunning view of the Choptank River at sunset. Ospreys, Great Blue Heron and turkey vultures wheeled majestically overhead. There were crabcakes crabs, steaks, refreshing umbrella drinks, Hawaiian shirts, a DJ for us to compete with...and did I mention crabcakes?
We were also joined by our ol’ pal Mike Rosman. He was wrangling hermit crabs, while throwing knives at the children to amuse the parents.
It was actually a very pleasant gigue. We only really played for about 40 minutes, then drifted around annoying the guests and stealing their half-eaten food. The DJ was a nice young guy who played reggae, and Buffett songs. We did street work and played along to the DJ where inappropriate.
As we furiously played our little shanties, one of the guys slapped a “Hello, My Name Is:” tag on me. I couldn’t read it until we finished the tune…
” Hello
My Name Is:
FreeCreditReport.Com”
My only disappointment was that I failed to make a small boy cry by mocking his clothing…damned willful brat! I’ll get him next time.
They are clearly a tight family organization; da’ luv, we could feel it. Everybody was just great. The massed group wept bitter tears as we slunk into the night; and they barely mentioned all the crabcakes that PyrateLady and Drake had stuffed into their pants.
On another matter. I had a chance to dine with some friends and a nice Australian singer named Danny Spooner. He was a friend of Harry Robertson, who wrote several Australian songs I perform on ocassion. Danny told me all the ways that the folks I learned the songs from had pissed off Harry by not performing the pieces precisely as written. TeeHee. Arrangements happen.
We all had a good time comparing notes on "les vie musicienne".
I can heartily recommend the restaurant where we chatted...Samantha's, in lower Silver Spring. They serve Mexican and Central American food. Everything was fresh!.
YUM.
Current Music: Kranski"s "Die Kröte Und Geier " ein musikalisch Gespräch"
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01:31 pm - Why I Sometimes Have To Teach The English How To Write- ( semi- NSFW)
The BBC news website, normally a bastion of brain in a sea of stupid, changed the presentation of acronyms on their website a bit ago. Some upper management wonks there decided that if an acronym could be PRONOUNCED like a word, then they would SPELL it like a word.
Thus NASA becomes "Nasa" and FICA becomes "Fica"; while the FBI and IRS do not become "Fbi" and "Irs".
I wrote to the editorial staff last year and found out that the fellow who wrote the story I first saw the change in THINKS THAT IT'S A REALLY STUPID CHOICE, AND HE WANTS TO BLUDGEON THOSE WHO FORCED IT ON HIM.
a small example of why I want to help him with the bludgeoning
It seems that "Asbo" is an BBC-ized English legal acronym for Anti-Social Behavior Order, ASBO.
It may just be me, but doesn't the phrase," breaching an Asbo" sound much like the sort of activity leading to the original charges?
Current Music: I. Kranski's "Die Raging Kröte " ein Menuett in drei Teile
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July 10th, 2009
01:25 pm - LJ Not What It's CRACKED Up To Be
You may find this mostly amusing
Teehee
Now see the empowered women of LJ take their vengence on the evil editors of CRACKED magazine
I particularly like the devouring of the evil pink meteorite. That, and the really big tree-throwing...Oh, I liked the really big treefrog, too.
Shucks, she's so dreamy, I could almost forget that she's named ZsaZsa.
Current Music: Kranski's " Lied des Lachend Kröte " Ein Lied
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July 8th, 2009
04:41 pm - The Way Things REALLY are:
You also don't hear cute music while this is happening
Current Music: Kranski's " die Kröte In Honig Polkas " Sommerlich Tanz
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July 7th, 2009
12:08 pm - The Fourth Voyage of Skivee- Lots To Celebrate *** Now With More Greyhounds!***
The pleasant folks who run the schooners Woodwind I&II repeated their previous errors and asked for some music on their July 4th evening tour of the bay.
This is a Ship's Company gigue that I have horned in on over the last several years.
Rushing out to our state capitol nearly on time, I arrived at an Annapolis municipal parking lot, wedged myself into the creeping line, reached for my wallet...and found a curious lack of walletude against my ass. I had left it on the bed when I changed clothes. Yes, I change clothes.
The very nice attendant let me into the lot on promise of repaymnt by one of my mates in spite of the fact that I was obviously a folk musician.
Over the next 15 minutes I found that ESSENTIALLY NO SPACES REMAINED OPEN IN THE LOT. The sole exception was one space marked off for the exclusive use of the mayor of Annapolis. Even I am smart enough to know that using that one would not have ended well.
Folks were paying the fee, driving around the lot for a bit, then leaving by the parking structure's only exit on the other side of the lot. I don't know if they got their fivers back. Annapolis's 17th century street layout is not condusive to tooling around the block.
Didn't PT Barnum do the same thing at his museum?..."This Way To The Fabulous Egress".
Myron came to my aid and we repaired to a super-secret free parking area available only to the cool kids.
We soon were tossing back fine ales on Myron's coin.
Myron and I manned the shanty-singing station on the WWI while the lovely and talented Dallas and Rachael manned and womanned the WWII.
This was a much quieter tour of duty(teehee) mostly because of the absence of EXTROVERTED WOMAN from last year's trip. Small favors, we are grateful for them.
Winds were light, temps cool,the sky was kinda overcast. This made for rather tame sailing. We didn't even get our feet wet. We moseyed out to the Bay Bridge and back. The bridge looks muuuuuuuuuuch thinner from underneath. Skinny and insubstantial and shakey and...remind me never to drive on the Bay Bridge again. Yikes.
We were buzzed by stupid expensive speedboat drivers. Sadly, Coast Guard regs demanded that we leave our weapons on shore. We had to make do with the occasional "Hawaiian Good Luck Sign" hand gesture.
The passengers were nice. They asked several questions about the songs, leading to informative discussions in both directions...and a good time was had by all.
There was a brief contest between the two Woodwinds to see which boat could best slaughter our national anthem, then we headed to our mooring for the fireworks.
Our Captain Jenn was reluctant to park the boat too near the firing barge. Previous experience in washing spent gunpowder spluge off white decking had taught her well. We ended up dropping anchor a prudent distance away.
Kaboom! FlashBang! RumbleThumpBoomCrack!
One-half hour later we made our retina-burned way back to the dock for the long journey home.
As a final blessing of liberty and freedom, we did not receive a parking ticket for using the secret parking space...I LOVE THIS COUNTRY!!!
On another matter:
Few of my women friends will be aware of Cracked magazine. Back in the dimly remembered 1970s it was a cheap rip-off of the more famous humor rag, Mad magazine. Well, Cracked has gone on to become the most dynamic source of scholarly humorous information on the Intrawebs.
Behold the following about how a Greyhound was instrumental in the formation of the Church of England:
http://www.cracked.com/article_17507_p2.html Some NSFW language is contained herein
It is my belief that the dumbass Greyhound just thought that the Pope was a rabbit.
Current Music: I Kranski's Minuet in D#m "Die Kröte und Die SeeHund "
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June 27th, 2009
12:46 pm - A weekend of Embarassment, Majesty, Charity and Wallabies
PyrateLady and I stood in as members of the Ship's Company Shantymen over the past weekend. The occasion was the 375th birthday of the State of Maryland. The event was in our first state capital, St. Mary's City. I headed down with Drake and Janie, who would be Calico Jack-ing.
Janie began peppering me with demands in my half-awake state that I rewrite "Maryland , My Maryland. The 1863 lyrics are famously pro-rebel and anti-Federalist. I rattled off some of my typical doggerel and fell asleep with my face mashed against a bodhran case.
Stephen and Myron were setting gear up when we arrived at the ungodly hour of 9 am. I promptly repaired to the "Green Room tent" attached like a tick to the side of the main tent to spend the next several hours retuning in the high humidity.
Some friends from the Kalmer Nyckel arrived just as the actual ceremony was beginning some 150 feet away. I started quietly singing a silly song to one of the crew, when a couple of guys rushed over to shut me the hell up.
It seems that the acouistic properties of the side tent were such that my quiet guitar and dulcette voice were CLEARLY being heard on stage...D'OH!
A tent wall was rearranged to reduce the problem...they crammed it into my throat until the ceremony was over.
Janie and Drake were soon doing their duo bit and eventually got to the rewrite of the state anthem. I was startled to hear them singing my new verse:
Our state song needs a modern page
Maryland, My Maryland
To guide us toward a modern age
Maryland, my Maryland.
The words are mean, and quite uncouth
unsuited for adult or youth
Unless you agreed with John Wilkes Booth
Maryland, My Maryland
Listeners were then thankfully asked to write other new verses. Though I didn't hear any of their efforts, I hope that my co-recomposers were able to maintain the level of grandeur that I had established.
Back in our little tent Myron and I sang The Star Spangled Banner to the tune of the Soviet National Anthem for a very confused co-performer.
Our 1 1/4 hour performance was sandwiched neatly around several violent thunderstorms at the end of the day. We played an amusing panache of ship's Company and PR favorites for the sweaty folks massed under our big dry tent.
As soon as we were done the storms blew away, the sun came out, and singing birds filled the sky. Once again, the sky-gods mock me. We packed our gear and slunk away.
The next day I was able to visit the NCL Majesty in Baltimore harbor. Adam and I like the boat. It's a bit snugger than the CCL Valor, but without the chintziness.
We were given a very nice lunch and facilities overview. Adam found a perfect viewing area behind the stack for our scheduled stargazing.
I tooled down to McGinty's pub in Silver Spring for a fundraiser. Our friend Severn Savage was recovering from Chemo, but in the process burned himself badly in a cooking accident. He's had skin grafts and such over the last few months, and is now getting around. A huge crowd of folkies from FSGW and the DC shanty community got together for songs and drink. Money was raised for the lad, and many jokes were made at his expense. We are glad that he is progressing again.
And This Non-Michael Jackson Item From BBC World News:
Now with 35% more Stoned Wallaby Crop Circles!
Current Music: Kranski's Opus#12A "Die Kröte und Die Stürmen" als Klavier und Tuba
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