Old Town School - On The Road
Dispatches from the road from our wayfaring travelers.
Gigs and saloons and daylight.
Yesterday was the festival….Finnish bluegrass bands and us. These guys all play great and have been as hospitable as can be.
We did a set at 5pm and then another at midnight. The “Roots in Pyhtaa” Festival is in it’s 22nd year…the same weekend every year and they attract about 300 or so people…including cowboys and indians and bikers (no not the Village People).
The evening sets move from the open field to the back porch of the Ravintola Ruukinmylly..the only bar/restaurant in town.
Music on and on till all hours…beer that never stops flowing…some good Finnish brandy…(no vodka..?) open face sandwiches of salmon and cheese.
We walk everywhere, everything is 2 minutes from where we’re staying..
Along with the music festival there’s an “old west” reenactment campsite (we played the church today and we do the saloon tonight)…a Finnish version of cowboys and indians.
The almost never ending daylight is a bit surreal…at 11pm it’s looking like 8:30pm(CDT), by midnight it’s getting dark and by 2am dawn is tapping you on the shoulder….it beckons you to stay up for just one more.
Filed under: Notes from John, Finland 2009, DMT in Finland by John | June 7, 2009 | Comments (1)
Yesterday I Was Baptized
Yesterday I was baptized. I awoke in the late afternoon with a full blown case of jet lag. My throat was scratchy, my sinuses dry and I had the same feeling of congestion in my chest that precedes something like a flu. There was laughter and music coming from Colby and Paul’s apartment across the foyer. First one mandolin then two together. More laughter. One voice was thick with the speaking style common to these northern regions, the other more familiar. Names were being mentioned and I only recognized a few. Someone unschooled in mandolin nobility is left to measure the magnitude of each name by the reverence with which it is spoken.
Wasal Arar and Colby Maddox were jamming and comparing notes collected from two separate lifetimes spent bent over a mandolin in two completely different parts of the world. And to recognize how much they have found in common with one another is something to behold. Some of the same chops and riffs spill out of their instruments. They share some of the same chord voicings and scales, as well as a number of common musical friendships in the swirling world known only to those who pick at the mandolin. Details like string gauges, action, model numbers beginning with an A or an F were discussed and affirmed. Builders like Gibson and Kentuckian and others I have never heard of were addressed.
I made tea in the kitchen of John’s and mine apartment, enjoying the interaction. It is evident that Wasal loves all kinds of music. He is quick to point out some of the many things old-time music and bluegrass have in common. It is remarkable that Wasal has learned to play so well and has amassed so much knowledge considering the essence of his music is rooted a half a world away. He knows instruments too. He knows how they are built and how they ought to be adjusted. And he can articulate the subtle differences in the sound of one mandolin when compared to the next. I gathered then that Wasal has listened to a great many mandolins.
Now let me tell you something else. Sitting in my kitchen sipping tea, I thought I heard lightning sparking from the strings of Colby Maddox. His playing is at once powerful, subtle and rhythmic. His phrasing dances and struts with bluesy, syncopated vigor. Whoa.
I boiled another cup of tea water and listened to the music a while longer, then joined the two in the other apartment. “I am taking you all to the sauna this afternoon,” said Wasal. The word sauna hung in the air. Sow-nah. I guess you could say Colby and I said nothing, as it suddenly became awful quiet. “You’ll enjoy it,” Wasal went on, “It is something you come to Finland to do. All Finns enjoy their sauna.”
Twenty minutes later, the four of us plus Wasal trudged down the gravel road, towels draped over our shoulders, towards sauna. Sow-nah. Wasal explained some of the health giving effects of this age old Finnish tradition as we walked. He was sensitive to the shyness of his American guests, yet eager for us to take part in the experience. I wondered how many American musicians Wasal has coaxed and coached through their first Finnish sauna over the years. Sow-nah.
At once Wasal stopped in mid-speech. “Wait a minute,” he said, “I forgot something. Keep on walking and I’ll catch up with you.” The four of us kept on towards our sauna. John, who has traveled the world playing music, has enjoyed sauna in several different countries. Paul is generally eager to try new things and although this wouldn’t be his first sauna, he was fully looking forward to it. I’m pretty sure Colby and I said nothing, as it again became awful quiet.
and
Ruotsinpyhtaa commuity sauna (click to enlarge)
and
Wasal came hustling up the road toting a twelve pack carton of Finnish beer. “We’ll need these in the sauna,” he said.
We entered what Wasal called the dressing room, which is an interesting thing to call it, and we began undressing. “You can take your towel in if you like,” said Wasal. “You are all welcome to do what you are comfortable with. But if you take your towel in it will get wet and you won’t have anything to dry yourself off with.”
As we stood, one of the boys handed me an open bottle of beer. I folded my towel and placed it atop my stack of clothing and we exited the dressing room. Across the hall is the doorway to the sauna. As you enter you step past a container about the size of a small trash can. It is filled with what look to be man-made stones which are somehow heated by the container. Two gents, already sweating and pink welcomed us. We stepped up one at a time and the older of the two scootched around the u-shaped bench to make room. The younger one stayed on the end nearest the container and manned the pail. Periodically he splashed a ladleful of water atop the rocks. The water sizzled and evaporated, filling the sauna with heat and moisture.
A Finnish sauna is rather compact and is hotter than a traffic jam in Louisiana in August. Eighty degrees centigrade is a hundred seventy-six in our part of the world and you feel it immediately. Wasal explained something of the philosophy behind sauna. He spoke something in Finnish to the younger man who immediately splashed two more ladles of water on the stones. The water sizzled again and the heat increased. “There is an art to sauna,” Wasal explained. “You have to do things slowly and when you feel it is time, we will step out back to the river.”
Soon enough the time came. Dripping with sweat, we tiptoed out of the sauna down the short hall and tiptoed out of the doorway which led to the river. There we paused for a spell and I ducked back to the dressing room to deposit my empty bottle. I heard Wasal call, “Watch your step and ease in.” By the time I came back out, John, Colby and Paul were already in the water. “Some people like to dive right in,” Wasal said to me, “but try easing in and see how you like it. You may find it easier to back down the ladder into the water.” I turned around facing Wasal and backed down the ladder.
The water was cold but not icy. Steam was coming off my arms and off of Wasal’s shoulders. “Watch your step he said, the ladder is slippery.” I was in about as far as my knees and looked down to make certain my feet were steady on the ladder. I felt Wasal’s hand atop my head. He mumbled, “I hearby baptize you into the river of sauna,” and he pushed. I pushed off the ladder with my legs and fell back laughing into the chilly water. Wasal stepped down the ladder and joined us. “Don’t be in a hurry to get out of the water,” he said. “You’ll know when it’s time.”
and
The Kymi River (click to enlarge)
and
One carries the heat of the sauna into the river with them. And the heat of the sauna remains when one climbs back up the ladder and out of the water. Colby and John fetched another round of bottles from the dressing room and there we stood, talking and drinking, watching dusk and stillness settle on the lagoon. A seagull screeched from her perch on a rock while her still fuzzy babies paddled in the water below.
Finnish sauna is refreshing, just as Wasal promised, and invigorating. The shyness of disrobing in public is only temporary. Sauna in Finland is as commonplace as cell phones are in Lincoln Square, and one falls into the custom quite naturally. I have felt more naked on countless other occasions while facing an audience fully clothed with guitar in hand and a good set list to boot. Sow-nah.
Colby began to shiver and I began to shiver. The process of heating up in the sauna and cooling off in the river can be repeated as many times as one prefers. Wasal recommended three, so three it was. Paul and Colby stayed for a fourth, while John and I showered, dressed and headed over to the restaurant for dinner. The room was crowded and by the time we arrived, a bluegrass jam had already assembled in the corner. We took the small table by the door and ordered, astonished to find out it was nine thirty. We had spent more than two and a half hours in the sauna.
6 06 09
Filed under: Notes from Mark, Finland 2009, DMT in Finland by Mark | June 7, 2009 | Comments (1)
“legal”…the word for cool in Portuguese
Which is what this place is….so cool! It’s been one full week here in Brazil, I wish we could stay longer! This morning Andrea and I taught part 2 of the folk/pop/rock guitar class. Again, the Brazilians just soak up the American music. One woman Nivea loved all the classic rock of the 70s…calling out sort of obscure groups like Yes and Rennaissance. Even thought most of the students spoke only a little English, they knew a lot of the words of the American songs. We taught Big Yellow Taxi, Paper Moon, California Dreaming and more. Then we headed to the cafeteria/lounge area and rustled up our own barn dance with 10 or so of the students. Bau taught two circle dances and Steve taught one too that I really liked. We hung out with a student named Leandro…a self-taught players…so good…can play many styles…we all loved listening to him play Brazilian music, and he also plays the viola….not like the viola you think….a 7-string, or maybe 5-string?? instrument, nylon…great sound.
Yesterday, Bau and I heard a chorro (spelling?) band….mandos, ukes, that box thing you bang on, flute….so good. They played in a courtyard on the campus. Then we visited the Pro Music school that night for another jam session with all four of us..the students had lots of questions….one was “what is folk music?”….good question!
Okay, backtracking to that morning…..I had a wonderful workshop with the music ed. students of the univ. Somehow I got 25 college students to play freeze dance and sing If you’re happy and you know it and the like! They were great. I talked all about the kids programs at OTS and again, they had tons of interesting questions about how we teach. Then I was interviewed by one of the students for their campus radio station.
The group went up to the mountains today…I stayed back to relax. Tomorrow we will head to Ouro Preto, a town in the mountains about 2 hours away.
Filed under: Notes from Laura, Brazil 2009 by Laura | June 6, 2009 | Comments (0)
A Finnish Update
Thursday June 4th 2009
Flew through the non existent night and after transferring in Stockholm finally arrived in Helsinki around 11 am local time.
Hano met us at the airport and we cabbed it to the gallery where we have tonights gig. Our host Juha is tremendous..plying us with coffee and Finnish brandy.
We finally got about 2 hrs of sleep in the venue this afternoon, woke up rehearsed a bit had some more coffee and brandy and in about 30min the show will begin.
A summation of the day to come later:
A beautiful gig…2 sets, about 40 people attending…the transformation from photography studio to concert hall was amazing.
After the gig we packed our bags and took a long taxi ride to Ruotsinpyhtaa and some sleep.
We were met at our hotel ( a 2 unit bed and breakfast) by Wasel Arar. He seems almost singlehandedly responsible for the Bluegrass scene in Finland…a fine banjo player, guitarist and singer.
Friday June 5
We all finally got a good nights sleep. The town we’re in is tiny (even by Finnish standards) and gorgeous and right on a lake.
After a casual day Wasel took us to have a Fin style sauna….sweating in 90 degree C then jumping into the ice cold lake…back to the heat…back to the lake…and repeat….aahhh.
Immediately after we were at the only bar/restaurant in town for an all night jam session.
So many great players here, totally entrenched in the Old Time and Bluegrass syles.
We all had a blast playing song after song with about 10 other musicians…Colby and Paul were especially on fire.
More to follow soon.
JA
Filed under: Notes from John, Finland 2009, DMT in Finland by John | June 6, 2009 | Comments (0)
Somewhere In the World
Somewhere in the world someone is unable to sleep, a long way from home and restless. Somewhere in the world someone is thinking of loved ones, wishing to know what they might be doing at a single given moment; wondering with whom they may be talking, or on what they might be working. Somewhere in the world someone listens through a deep morning quiet, replaying scenes and events which led them to a place and circumstance before now they could not have imagined.
This morning I am all of these and none of these. It is five o’clock and I have popped awake after only four short hours of sleep. The sky is gray, as it has been since we landed in Stockholm. Rain dribbles down, tapping upon shingle and window pane making a kind of music that is somehow familiar, but again unlike the sound of rain against my window in Riverside, Illinois.
Last night, Paul, Colby, John and I played a wonderful concert at Reunenan Gallery, a basement photography studio seven minutes walking distance from Helsinki’s city center. Juha Reunenan is a soft-spoken man and the proprietor. By showtime, he, his son and his daughter Laura, transformed their busy space into a funky elegant concert venue, complete with backdrop, stage lighting and a headless female mannequin torso partially clad in one of Paul’s short sleeved shirts and a black scarf.
Perhaps thirty-five listeners were in attendance and as an audience, they were simply lovely. After the show, Juha ordered sandwiches and a small party began to unfold. Having slept only about ninety minutes apiece since leaving Chicago, we four were exhausted yet jubilant. We played and sang well, remembered all of our parts and weaved together a musically interactive and varied program. We enjoyed each other and were thankful for the gracious hospitality of our hosts and audience.
Before long our gear was loaded into a taxi cab and we piled in. We sped into the damp summer dusk out of Helsinki, towards the village where the main event of our visit is to take place, the Rootsinpyhyaa Bluegrass and Old-Time Music Festival and Rendezvous. A little more than an hour later, the van pulled up a gravel road and stopped in front of an old country house where Wasal Arar waited to welcome us in. Wasal is one of the main movers and shakers who made our visit to Finland possible. He showed us our rooms and showed us how the showers work. Bottles of beer were opened for Wasal, Paul and I, and Colby and John each poured a small glass of a black liquor drink called Salmiakki.
Wasal speaks English well. He is intelligent and articulate and thoughtful. And he knows a whole hell of a lot about American bluegrass music. We are looking forward to jamming with him later tonight, and looking forward to hearing his band perform at the festival tomorrow.
So far on our adventure, we’ve encountered only people who are friendly and generous, eager to make us welcome and comfortable. For a million dollars though, I couldn’t tell you how to find us. The only clue I can offer is we are in Finland, somewhere in the world east of Helsinki. There are trees all around and we are near a river. All is wet and quiet and beautiful.
My cell phone doesn’t work out here, so you can’t call me and I can’t call you. And it will be hours before I can get to a place to make an internet connection. If you do happen to be looking for us, please take your time. We like it here a great deal.
Filed under: Notes from Mark, Finland 2009, DMT in Finland by Mark | June 6, 2009 | Comments (1)
have i mentioned yet how nice eveyone is here in brazil?
and how delightful it is here? and how good the food and weather
are?
let me work backwards from this moment, where i am typing
on a filthy keyboard and barely moving cursor in the hotel
ahem “business office“.
we walked back from the party, myself and andrea, up and down
the hills and darkened and desolate streets. for some reason, no one
at all parks their car on the streets at night. the sidewalks are broken,
ragged and uneven, and if you are wheelchair bound, do not make this
your vacation destination. besides the steep hills and our friend gravity,
there are sheer unexpected dropoffs everywhere. wherever there is a
driveway or corner, there is a steep plunge, a foot or two sometimes,
to the next section of sidewalk. did i say sidewalk? it is almost as if
each building has built its own sidewalk….cement, tile, brick, small stones,
dirt, patterns, crumbling pits, a patchwork.
so it´´s midnight, the streets are
empty and dirty, and we are walking. we actually get a little lost on
the way home, ending up on two spooky quiet streets ´we´´d never seen before.
bats were flying around the streetlights. not a soul driving. all houses
behind iron fences and gates, some yards surrounded by thick clear glass
fences, showcasing the yard like an aquarium, making sure you see but don´t
touch. electric wire or glass on the top. so much security here, neighborhood
stores with guards, malls with 3 or more security guards at each entrance and
more patrolling, in black suits like the secet service.
all that to say; for some reason, it seems not all that scary. any US city and
these streets would be certain death, but here, it seems alright. when we were
lost, on a particularly desolate and dark street of stone, the was a man standing
at the end f the street, in the middle of the T intersection, dark clothing and
sunglasses. andrea said he might have been the bat we saw earlier, but he was
a dark man who said nothing as we walked by with no panic. for some reason.
we were walking from a party and jam at a local music school, where
a local singing legend taught
mostly vocals. we started the evening attending a class in the (i suck at
remembering foreign words) rhythms of an instrument like a tambourine,
and were schooled in patterns for songs and capoera. we stood in a circle
of mostly beautiful and handsome brazilian women. i, resplendant in
my sweaty tank top from walking earlier in the day, may have stood out a little.
but learn we did. i was masterful at it not.
then we went and had a frozen dish made from the acai berry, like a sorbet,
covered with fresh bananas and granola. what a treat, and not the first one of
the day.
then the jam session. in the open air center of the school, which was in a
big old house. we sang a few songs. beer and wine were served. bacon brushetta
was served….toast, cheese, bacon and oregeno. introductions were made.
one of the women there was obviously someone important, a backup singer
with a famous pop star, and as far as i could gather from the conversation,
was on a soap opera. she held herself like a star. if you`ve ever seen the show
“just shoot me“, she was just like nina van horne. regal, self assured.
our hostess sat down with her sister (friend? not sure) and they sang the most
hauntingly beautiful duet ever. so sweet and pure. then another woman and
a guitar joined them for a trio, again, hauntingly sweet and beautiful.
the evening turned raucous, with drums and dancing and exhuberant singing
and laughter. i danced a little, until
i was dripping with sweat (again). it was a kind of magical evening. i wished
i had known any of the words to the songs, but i plucked and sawed and
drummed my way through the evenings brigadoon-like magic.
a delicious bean and sausage soup and some meat struedel were served
and the drinks flowed. another one of those can´t believe i´m here evenings.
the rest of the day earlier seems to pale in comparison, yet it was all kind of
magical. we went to an ecological park. i had the water from a big
green coconut, with a straw, through the hole they punched. it seemed
like a magic drink, neverending. i drank and drank. finally done.
then they split it open, gave it to me with a spoon made from a piece
of the husk, and we peeled out the gelatinous meat from the non scrapy,
non flakey kind of coconut.
on the way out of the park, we stopped at a roadside fruit place, where a man
with a machete carved up giant hunks of sweet juicy pineapple, and we stood
eating, sticky sweet juice flowing and dripping. we left, and in yet another
of many lovely gestures this day, he came running out to the car as we were
leaving, with two big hunks of perfect firm and ripe watermelon, and handed
them to us. not sure watermelon or pineapple ever tasted that fine.
i can´t even get into the wonderful lunch we had, one of many stupendous and
inexpensive meals we had.
but after lunch i took a walk, looking for the grocery store. i climbed hills
and was a big sweaty mess (what else is new) when i asked a woman
on top of a hill where the grocery was. she spoke no english, but understood
what i was looking for and pointed down the street. i thanked her and walked
down the hill. a few moments later i heard a voice, and she was running
down the hill she had just climbed up, just to give me better directions.
she pointed down the hill. “one, two“ then pointed her finger sharply to
the right.
have i mentioned yet how nice eveyone is here in brazil?
and how delightful it is here? and how good the food and weather
are?
by the way, the weather is delightful.
biejos
stefan
Filed under: Notes from Steve, Brazil 2009, Uncategorized by Steve | June 4, 2009 | Comments (1)
Hank Roberts
Hank Roberts is here this week. A more amazing, open, giving musician I have yet to meet. And he’s a cellist so I feel a special connection. I am the only cellist among the participants here at Banff so I feel like I have found a long-lost family member. I’ve never really felt this way before - maybe it’s also being a rock girl around all the jazz musicians - but it sure is great to see him play his instrument and know that only a cello could make those amazing sounds.
He started the class by confessing that he was slightly inimidated by the level of musicianship here - even though he has been playing for more that 40 years and has a strong jazz background.
He talked to us about how we use our bodies when we play - how to breathe and connect to the large muscles in our back and legs to help us make music. About finding and communicating from your center. Playing what you know and not trying to compete or impress - to play from inside yourself and let that be enough.
It was powerful for all of us to hear him talk after 3 incredibly intense weeks where I think we had all been going through our private changes - feeling challenged, intimitated, uplifted, inspired, discouraged - often all in the span of 12 hours. It was incredibly moving to see and hear this accomplished musician present himself in such a vulnerable way.
Then he played for us - some arrangements of Native American tunes he had been given as well as original music he had composed. The last piece he played, I don’t think there was a dry eye in the room. It was that powerful and I’ll never forget it.
To give you an idea of his spirit, I’ve been hoping I could have some time with him - to play him some pieces of mine and just talk to him about being a cellist and a writer. But the faculty’s time is so hard to come by and I hate to impose. I had decided it was okay if it didn’t happen. Then yesterday evening, when I was feeling ready to go home - that I had experience my fill - I passed him by and he called out to me. He said “I think we should get together, us being the only cellists here?”
So tomorrow at five, with one day before I leave, my cello and Hank’s cello are going to have a conversation. I can’t wait to hear what they say…
Filed under: Canada 2009, Banff International Workshop 2009, Notes from Alison by Alison | June 4, 2009 | Comments (2)
Clarence Penn on being a complete musician
Clarence Penn was here almost 2 weeks ago, but I’ve been going back through my notes and wanted to share some of his thoughts with you. His master class was “All About the ME: Managing my Musicianship and Economizing my Time”
1. Play clear ideas.
It’s not a contest to see who can play the most complicated stuff. Learn the music and discuss it (i.e., what can make it better?)
2. Engage. Ask people what they like to hear in a player - be open to sugestions.
3. Be in the now. If you make a mistake at a gig or session, move on, let it go - don’t let anything take you out of the moment.
4. History. Do research on your music and your instrument. Knowledge is power.
5. Helpers. Use tools to help you learn - software, recording equipment, cd players.
Other points he mentioned that I’ll pass on:
Be open to talking to people whether you think you might have something in common or not; Don’t try to sell yourself - people will hear about you if you work hard and have something to give; Be on time! ;Learn the music - internalize it; Offer non-ego base creative suggestions at the appropriate moment;
Body language and attitude is important; Develop Patience; Be inspired from within before looking elsewhere; seek knowledge from your peers and friends.
Remember - a genius is the one most like his/herself!
Filed under: Canada 2009, Banff International Workshop 2009, Notes from Alison by Alison | June 4, 2009 | Comments (0)
concert at the university
Filed under: Uncategorized by Laura | June 4, 2009 | Comments (0)
Day 5 in Belo Horizonte
Hello from Brazil. What an amazing country. The people here are absolutely lovely. They love learning about American folk music, the history, the way we teach music and even the way we sing. And we’re learning just as much from them…their music…samba, bossa nova and even brazilian pop music. Our host Walenia is has given us a great tour of Belo Horizonte, the biggest city in the state of Minas Garais. It has everything…..huge outdoor markets downtown, to serene parks, the lagoon, a zoo, and of course the University. Then neighborhood we are in is called Pampulha.
Last night was a highlight. We had a jam/dance party with the Brazilians at a small school that teaches mostly voice classes. We first took a workhop on how to play the pandeiro…it looks like a tamborine with a closed head. Very rhythmic. It seems that everyone here knows how to play the pandeiro! After the workshop…party downstairs…snacks and local beer (Skol) was served with a local soup that sort of tastes like the refried beans in Mexican dishes, but even better, and pork added. I forgot the name in Portugues. I do remember “Pao de Queso” though…..a delightful little cheese puff thing they sell everywhere…yum yum! The food is AMAZING…every single meal….but more on that later.
At the party, we traded off singing american folks songs and Brazilian songs…there were accordions, guitars, all kinds of drums, shakers, mando, fiddle and of course the pandeiro! Then, a barn dance with Bau calling out the moves in English and Walenia translating in Portuguese, while Andrea and Steve strummed and fiddled. Then….instant samba dancing ensued and lots and lots of Brazilian songs sung so beautifully I could cry.
Okay….i’ll see if I can post a pic and video here to really see!
Filed under: Notes from Laura, Brazil 2009, Uncategorized by Laura | June 4, 2009 | Comments (0)
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