Adventur(ette) # 7 - Heather and Marty (well, technically our neighbors)Description: Attend a story-telling event wherein one of our neighbors was the teller of honor.
(Marty's Report):
We got an invite card some weeks back to attend the CD release party of our neighbors, Willy and Jacqueline. Willie is a folk artist and story teller with, we learned, a career going back longer than I've been alive. He gave me a couple of CD's some months back, of his story telling for adults and children, and they were riveting (particularly the tale of Pegamoose).
Now, Heather and I are not the cocktail scene set. But we were pretty sure that's what this would be. The address was a toney one up in Pacific Heights (Daniel Steele's neighborhood), around the corner from where I did my first psychotherapy internship. The owners of the flat apparently do regular concerts or cultural events, with Willy and his son being the entertainment for the evening (I thought everyone was going to know Willie, but it seemed more folks were friends/guests of the host).
We got there and I'm pretty sure were the only arrivees who had come via motorscooter--at least, we had the only helmets in the coat room. The crowd was quite genial, and very San Franciscan, hip and downbeat at the same time, but not intolerably existential (Heather and I were at one of our favorite restaurants, Q's on Clement, and above her head, embedded in a collage, was an image of two very serious people, with a newspaper caption reading: "It's hard being so existential"). We were given wine glasses with our names attached, and Heather and I had the hard stuff, fizzy apple juice. I wanted a couple of the brownie cups, but Heather insisted they were for after. Then we chatted up, prior to the performance, talking dialects with a transplanted Brooklyner.
Willy and his son played for about an hour and a half, songs moving from the British Isle to America, especially in the south. Most had grim tales told through bouncy melodies and harmonies, usually accompanied by a guitar or banjo. A couple guest musicians came on a few songs to round out the sound. They were all well done, and Willy seemed to have an easy erudition about the music, which made sense seeing as how his career is about 50 years old. He had a great folky voice, as did his son, though his son carried also a bit more soul in his vocal cords. Heather, transplanted southerner that she is, and also aficionado of contemporary arrangements of folk songs, was able to sing along to many of the songs, gathering appreciative comments after the show from some of the audience.
(Heather's Report):
Marty described the event best, I think, so I'll just come from my own experience for this one.
I used to volunteer for the National Storytelling Festival in Jonesborough, Tennessee when I lived there with my mom. Mostly running around making sure there were chairs and such, pretty easy. The best bonus was of course, getting to sit in and listen to the storytellers ply their trade. Some Tellers sort of slide by your brain and you can't really remember their stories or performance later. Some stick with you because they tell really unique stuff and are really great performers, charismatic and with that great "stage energy" that just rolls out of them, affecting their audience. I remember this one African-American storyteller who told fantastic fairytales, mostly based on African tales although had some very funny renditions of old tales like Hansel and Gretel. He was riveting. You couldn't take your eyes and ears off of him.
So, I was all up for going to see our neighbor Willy spin yarns although I had only heard a few moments of his CD, including the infamous Pegamoose, which to me was already a mark of a good Teller, to be able to make his voice so different and so funny.
As Marty can also attest, I'm really not great in crowd situations where I don't know people and mingling with small talk is basically required. I tend to get nervous and say stupid, socially off stuff. I've been getting better the past year or so, mostly just learning how to shut up first, smile and nod with genuine interest and am slowly working on how to actually speak without getting into trouble. I've started with asking people about them. Always a good strategy and saying nothing about me or relating anything about what they are saying back to anything I know or any of my experiences. So far, this has kept me mostly out of trouble.
So I felt I did fairly well when speaking to a genial Brooklyner about accents, did not grab onto Marty and did not put my foot in my mouth. But I was still really nervous, that internal tremble I just can't seem to kick in those situations. So, overall, the social part went fine.
They started up the British Isles first and I was able to sing along with most of the songs. I grew up with a lot of this music, through Trapezoid, Birds of a Feather and contemporary Great Big Sea, among others. But then they moved into the south-east, more Appalachian songs and surprisingly, I was a bit lost. I didn't really hear much of that sort of stuff growing up. Although I was able to hum along because they do have the tendency to be a bit predictable.
On the downside, I learned that Freyda Epstein, a singer from Trapezoid, was killed in a rather horrible car accident some years ago. I was a bit stunned, especially that it happened and also that I didn't know it happened. She had an amazing voice.
Overall, I had a really good time and it reminded me of good times in my childhood.
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