Old Town School – On The Road

Dispatches from the road from our wayfaring travelers.

flying to rio

of course i had the middle seat on the 10 hour flight from atlanta.
but we switched around. but still, 10 hours on a plane is a long time.
and that was after the 2 hour flight and before the mad dash to the
one hour flight. but now, like magic, i am in belo horizonte, brazil.
i am in brazil. the country.

everything went so smoothly until we reached rio. we had 90 minutes to
change planes. a big cushion. you might think.

as we slowly, a little too slowly, got off the plane, into the odd 70s groovy
design terminal, the first thing noticed was a cluster of lovely young women
on the jetway. all wearing complex facemasks and breathing apparatus, eyeing
suspiciously our emerging from the plane. exiting the plane, more people
in uniforms and masks watched our passage and handed us forms in only
portugese. ahhhh! H1N1. we were to fill out a form that said we hadn’t
sniffled or sneezed in at least two days. so careful they are! but all you had to do
was say no and they stapled it to your immigration form and sent you away.
in the meantime, the plane was full of sneezers, hackers and mucus coated
coughing, but no one was admitting it, because they all sailed through.

at this time, through the first checkpoint most officials wearing masks, i noticed that
the airport was filthy, falling apart and dingy. as we waited the 15-20 minutes for
our luggage to arrive from the plane that was parked about 100 feet away, i went
to the filthy bathroom with the dripping and broken fixtures and discovered no
soap to wash all the H1N1 off of my hands that i got from handling all the forms,
doors and counters that the masked and gloved officials didn’t have to.

(our host here tells me that the display of flu concern is just for show, for the
rest of the world to see and that they have far worse mosquito carried diseases
that are incurable, have no vaccination and kill people often here that the
government doesn´t care about)
the delta lady in chicago told us our bags were checked “all the way through”.
which actually meant to the second to last stop. as we discovered as our bags
were nearly last. fine, there they were. so, after going through another checkpoint
where no one actually told us what they wanted from us, then into a long line,
which was strategically winding around two entrances of the duty free shop
that we had been handed swine flu laden brochures about earlier. the line snaked
around corners and down corridors, no end in sight. to add to our latened distress,
we heard tepid saxophone music and wondered if it was live. i suggested maybe
it was from the duty free shop, and as we turned the corner, there was a tired old
sax player playing along with an equally tepid recorded track, and wonder of wonders, wearing a uniform of the duty free shop. he seemed exhausted from his long gig
even tough it was 9am. as he launched into the retirement home version of
“the girl from ipanema” that would send the perkiest senior into a coma, we realized that we only had about 25 minutes to make our next plane. Bau went ahead around the
corner and down the hall to plead our plight to someone and they saw our problem.
so we rushed past all these waiting throngs scowling at us and cut in front of everyone.
that was never really clear what they wanted at this checkpoint, but they picked it out of
our sheaths of papers and off we went. we passed by currency exchanges. at the
end of the hallway were booths with people trying to get people to hire taxis.
as a welcome to brazil, a voluptous dark haired woman stood up in her booth,
leaned over to present her taxi selling “womanly attributes” to a group of arrivals,
smiled, waved and said “taxi! you want taxi?”

we turned the corner into the terminal. we were swarmed by money changers
and taxi hawkers, and all we wanted was to find TAM airlines. which we finally
figured out was in terminal 2, which was a LONG WAY. We did the rolling
luggage trot. none of the moving walkways were working to help nudge us
along even a little bit. rivulets of sweat were rolling down my face, soaking
my shirt, some of the long ramps were uphill. we were down to around 15 minutes
until the plane left.

finally we arrived at the ticket counter. for some reason, we could not get
ticketed all the way though to this flight in chicago, so we had to check in
and get boarding passes. bau showed the lady our itinerary. she said it was
closed. after some pleading, she checked with a supervisor, who agreed to
let us check in, check our luggage and get to the plane. we got our boarding
passes and ran for the gate. headed for the domestic gate. no! even though we
were flying one hour away in brazil, we had to go through another check
and security point at the intrnational gate. andrea, laura and bau
sailed through. i beeped.
back through the detector. removed things. still beeped. feeling like
jaques tati. through again and still beeped. soaked with sweat. shoes and
belt off; 4th time a charm. put my birks on unbuckled, belt, wallet, papers,
books clutched in my paws, i held my pants up as i shuffled as quick as
i could to the gate
where an anxious man was waiting. he shut the door behind me as i
started down the jetway. and with an exhausted gasp, i sat down,
my pile of suspect belongings on the seat next to me, twisted that
that pointy fan thing at my head and made noises like“phew´´ but more
gaspy, as the male flight attendant stood in the aisle miming a seatbelt
buckling in portugese to the 8 or so people in the back half of the plane.
for the first time in my life, someone held a bazillion dollar plane for me.
little old sweaty gaspy me. in brazil. never happen at o´hare.

but as it turned out, the brazilian people are wonderfully friendly and
accomodating. this day alone, two restaurants stayed open long past their
operating hours to feed us. literally refired the grills to cook us meat
and bring it to us with amazing abundance and bursting with flavor and attentive
service.

but that´s a story in itself for another day. every single thing we have eaten has
been spectacular. but i do babble on. but.

full of beef, pork, chicken, bacon, chicken hearts, meat from every part of
every animal including toad, i say goodnight.

love
steve

Filed under: Brazil,Notes from Steve,Uncategorized by Steve | June 3, 2009 | Comments (0)

Boa Tarde from Belo Horizonte

Laura Doherty, Andrea Bunch, Steve Rosen and Bau Graves reporting in from Brazil.

It’s great here. The “winter” weather is 75-80 degrees daily. The people just as warm. The food really pretty unbelievable.

We are teaching at Universidade Federal de Minas Gerais, which is a huge campus, the 3rd largest in Brazil with about 40,000 students. The Musica building is spacious and very well equipped. Like almost all the public buildings here (schools, restaurants, banks, you name it) it is open and airy, with whole sections of wall open to the outdoors. A very large garden is planted in a big central counrtyard INSIDE the building.

Our host, Prof. Walenia Silva, teaches in the music program. and is an encyclopedia of information about Brazilian traditional music. We’ve been offering workshops for her students and others in the music school. The students are all well trained musicians, very quick on the uptake, and full of interest in American music. Many of them have a lot of knowledge about our music already — which is a little humbling since we have so little insight into theirs. Even though we’re singing in a language foreign to them, all of the students know the words to “Blowin’ in the Wind.”

Last night we visited a small private music school called Pro-Musica, which has about 800 students and focuses on popular music. Students there sign up for a year of classes and they all take three classes per week — their specialty instrument, ear training/theory, and ensembles. They seem to run their operation on a shoestring and the amazing energy of their director. He invited us to offer a workshop on Friday so we’ll be able to experience the students then.

More to come soon. Boa tarde. Bau

Filed under: Belo Horizonte,Brazil,Notes from Bau,Uncategorized by Bau | June 3, 2009 | Comments (2)

Weary Prodigal Come

Pohjanmaan kautta means “Cheers!” in Finland, and I am wondering how to say it. Is it po-SZHYAN-mahn? Or PO-john-man? Is it KAW-ta?

I looked it up on line and learned the more literal translation is “down the hatch,” which I haven’t heard in any language in a long time. The last time may have been on a Three Stooges episode I saw when I was a kid.

I am honored then, to represent the Old Town School of Folk Music along with my colleagues Colby Maddox and Dr. Paul Tyler for a whirlwind tour of Finland as part of Bau Graves’ international faculty exchange program. We three are being billed as DMT (pronounced Moe, Larry, Curly). Bassist John Abbey will also be joining us for the shows, and we are mighty glad of it. Everybody knows there were really four Stooges.

Here’s what I know about Finland so far: In June, it is daylight almost the whole time. In Finland, it is unmannerly to wear your BVD’s in the sauna. In Finland, they eat a lot of fish. And reindeer. Helsinki is the largest city and is only 437 miles from the Arctic Circle. That’s roughly the distance between Chicago and Dover, Tennessee, where I met a retired tobacco farmer at a music festival last week. Though he acknowledged having been north of Paducah, Kentucky only twice in his entire lifetime (Chicago both times), he cautioned me to be careful around the women in Finland. He also said it’s cold there.

I am looking forward to meeting our hosts Juha and Wasel. I am excited about the chance to play and sing with Colby, Paul and John, all of whom are excellent musicians and dedicated instructors. We’ve rehearsed well over the last six weeks or so and have found some musically exciting common ground. We’re a little bluegrass, a little old-timey and somewhat folky. “Just good” is what I would say. That’s vain hyva in Finland.

WEARY PRODIGAL COME
God is calling the prodigal “Come without delay”
Hear oh hear him calling, calling now for thee
Patient, loving and tender lie still the Father’s plea
Hear His loving voice calling still

Calling out for thee
Weary prodigal come, weary prodigal come
Calling out for thee
Oh weary prodigal come, weary prodigal come

Come there’s bread in the house of the Father and to spare
Hear oh hear him calling, calling now for thee
Lo and the table is spread and the feast is waiting there
Hear His loving voice calling still

Calling out for thee
Weary prodigal come, weary prodigal come
Calling out for thee
Oh weary prodigal come, weary prodigal come

- from The Carter Family

Filed under: DMT in Finland,Finland,Notes from Mark by Mark | June 3, 2009 | Comments (1)

Ideas on Improvising

Here are some interesting takes on improvising, and by extension, writing, that I’ve jotted down from various master classes:

Ben Street - find the people you want to work with and make music with. Accept the level that you’re at.

Angelica Sanchez - Sometimes it’s okay to step on someone’s toes when you’re improvising – just come in and make a statement. Don’t listen to yourself – listen to the group.

Jerry Granelli - If you wonder why you’re playing in an improvistional setting – stop – listen instead of playing.

Dave Douglas - Don’t back away from making a statement. Let it be there. Don’t be afraid of silence. Silence is part of sound. It’s not about technique, but about intention and clarity.

Filed under: Banff International Workshop 2009,Canada,Notes from Alison,Uncategorized by Alison | June 3, 2009 | Comments (1)

Clarity and Intention

…the two themes that have come up here over and over – in talks about soloing and writing – about playing in a band and backing up a musician.

To think simply – and leave space. When you step up to take a solo or when you set out to write an idea. Strip away the excess and get to the germ of what you want to express.

And don’t be afraid to make a musical statement and leave it at that. Maybe it’s a wrong note – let it be. Have the courage to say something and let it stand on it’s own.

Phrases – strong clear phrases that can be just one note. As long as your intention is clear and you have conviction. You don’t need to have all the technique in the world, just a connection with what you want to say and your instrument.

Filed under: Banff International Workshop 2009,Canada,Notes from Alison by Alison | June 2, 2009 | Comments (0)


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