Ok - so I know that most of my Seattle friends who come across this note may be insulted to learn that I went to Seattle without getting a hold of them. I am sorry - but I had official business and it's complicated.
Folklife 2009.
My fascination with gypsies began the year after graduating from college, in May of 2004. I was walking around Port Townsend’s local record store called Quimper Sound and spotted a CD with a gnarly woman smoking from a pipe on the cover. The CD was titled “World of Gypsies” and featured music from Hungary, Spain, Poland, Romania, Rajastan, Bulgaria, and several other countries.
This was a period of time in my life when rent was cheap and I could afford to spend money on frivolous bullshit, so I picked up the CD based solely upon the lady on the cover and took it home to check it out. The first track titled ‘On the Waves of the Balaton’ is by a Hungarian artist named Roby Lakatos, and immediately I was hooked. I don’t even know what the instrumentation is but it is one of the most amazing songs I have ever heard. It builds slowly with a beautiful violin piece - I like to picture a beautiful gypsy woman dancing in the trees ... it slowly picks up speed and turns into a ferocious beast with ascending scales, descending scales - all types of textures and various playing styles. I can't describe it - I give up - but it's awesome.
The CD led me to check out a Hungarian band called ‘Teka’ who was visiting Port Townsend via Hungary back in 2005. They played at the Upstage and it was one of the best concerts I have been to ... right up there with Radiohead and the Hives - I aint jokin' jack! Plus, it didn't hurt that the bagpiper was using a satanic looking air bag complete with carved goats heads! I find Hungarian music interesting because they appear to use shortened bows with really fat strands of horse hair (I could totally be making this up) and their music has a pulsating rhythm. Combine the rhythm with the modal scales used to create that edgy gypsy sound and I am in ethnomusicology heaven.
And wondering where all my friends went …
For the last 30-some-odd years Memorial Day weekend has meant the Folklife Festival in Seattle, and I was first introduced to it by my neighbors who had brought me over when I was in my early teens. My earliest memories involve wearing goggles into the hotel swimming pool to check out the ladies (hey, I was like 13).
Buuuuuut .... the first band I saw that I really enjoyed was called the Paperboys – who did Irish/Celtic/Mexican/Pop music. They still play around and come to Portland every so often. I guess they're big in Canada? There was also the Beatles cover band ‘The Seatles’ – who I checked out again this year. My, how they have aged in 14 years! One guy had to sit down even! They were all grumpy and acted as though they were sick of playing the same songs. However, the audience loved it and we sang along (me, among 500 aging hippies). I was also reintroduced to 'Norwegian Wood' which is now one of my favorite Beatles songs.
As an adult I have had some weird times at Folklife. Long gone are the hotels within walking distance and the free meals provided by my friend's parents. The wonderland image I had of Seattle has long shriveled away and I worry about where to park, and I get noxious and lost in the throngs of teenagers. I pay $7.50 for a tiny plate of pad thai made with ketchup - and I remind myself of the 'Horn of Africa' the following day.
In 2005, after breaking up with a girlfriend I decided I would go to Folklife to get away from Port Townsend. Despite my best efforts I couldn’t ‘trick’ anyone into joining me. Apparently saying there’ll be Ukrainian Folk Dancing, a fiddlers showcase, and English Country dancing wasn’t enough to entrance them. After spending an afternoon wandering around by myself surrounded by young lovers in love, I became depressed and ditched the festival to wander the streets of Seattle alone …
This year I used Folklife as a means to an end. And don’t get me wrong … I love Folklife and I have been trying to find someone who would go with me for years.
Friday after work I rushed home and jumped into my car desperate to beat traffic. It took me an hour and a half to go the seven miles from downtown PDX to the I-5 Bridge spanning the Columbia River. Apparently a sedan tried to cut off an 18-wheeler and was crushed.
After passing the accident and making it through the I-5 bottleneck I was driving upwards of 80 mph the rest of the way. I passed most of the time wondering what the f*** I was doing, or hoped to accomplish? In some respects I was an investigative journalist. I had a great lead on a story and had to return to Seattle for more research. The true trick was to stay objective.
I had finally made it to Seattle by 8 p.m. and went to the agreed upon location. When I saw my informant, my heart rolled down through my chest, past my stomach, through my quad, squeezed past my knee, shimmied down my calf, squirted past my ankle, and tumbled into my right shoe where I spent most of the night trying to casually stamp out the blazing fire raging within.
And that is all I am going to say about that ...
... blah blah blah ... stuff ... this and that ... okkkkkkk ... sleep!
When I awoke the next morning there was a terrier the size of a sewer rat on my pillow wearing a full-bodied pink hoodie, and it was licking me. If the hoodie didn't say princess, it probably should have.
At 9am I waved goodbye (to the puppy?) and spent the morning strolling through downtown and the Pike Place Market. By noon I made it back over to Folklife and planned out all the musical acts I wanted to see for the day. I saw some fantastic Italian music in the Bonnie Birch Band – complete with accordions, bass guitars, and tenor and baritone Opera singers.
I then wandered over and saw my precious gypsy music in the form of the Forras Hungarian Folk ensemble. As I watched the accompanying dance I started to wonder how I would have described this scene had anybody joined me.
“Oh … they don’t usually dress like that. Oh – those guys don’t usually do that. This is the first time I have ever seen this ... usually it's wayyyy cooler."
But secretly I am obsessed with other cultures. Hence Fenbi. And my world travel fantasies.
In Hungarian dance the women dress like Russian dolls, and the men wear black vests, white shirts, black pants and have black boots that go up to their knees (is the raging Tom Selleck a given?). The women dance in circles and make interesting and complex patterns with their arms - it's like ring around the rosey meets cats cradle.
However, the Hungarian men act like Orion and myself after we've had a couple extra drinks, sans the Velociraptor. They hop around with shit-eating-grins and slap their legs, feet, and play patty cake with one another. You can google it if you are really interested ... but I was there for the accompanying band. The Forras Hungarian Folk ensemble. They were brilliant and I wonder how we could get them to open for Fenbi??
Despite catching a set of Norwegian Folk Tunes and promising a folksy American band I would return for their set, by about 4pm I started to lose my thunder and I left the festival feeling slightly lonely.
The turn of events gave me the opportunity to drive down to 1st and Lander where I picked up an antique my mom had on layaway for the past 6 months.
When I brought it to her that evening she was so happy and I felt like a champ.
Gotta take care of the moms even when it's not mothers day!
Folklife 2009.
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