Paddler
July 8th, 2017, 08:40 AM
From the Gig Journal:
Last night was the second of the fortnightly Quail Hollow jam sessions of the season. Attendance by the general public was sparse; most folks probably stayed home to watch the millionaires play ball. There were quite a few musicians, however, so many, in fact, that the mandolin player had to sit in the "ghost chair." (Since Dave died this spring, we had been leaving an empty chair for him in the circle.)
Everybody seemed to play especially well last night. The music was very lively and well synchronized, considering the nature of the event.
The bass lady was there with her five-string bull fiddle and the child's shoe on the peg. She was pounding mighty thuds into the mandolin player's ear. His relief was evident when she went for a coffee break and became involved in an extended conversation in the hallway.
When the fiddler began playing "The Blarney Pilgrim," Russ decided that his accordion was a bit too cumbersome for the tune. He picked up his harmonica and promptly caught his mustache in the slide. I think he had to actually rip it free. He kept making ugly grimaces with his upper lip for the rest of the evening.
Jody's feet were in good shape so she put away her concertina for a while and did some clogging. "Killin' snakes," we called it. She gave us an old fashioned look for that.
A couple of fiddlers joined us from the Bluegrass venues. I don't know if this was another attempt at encroachment or not. They seemed to have trouble with the rhythms we were using. We played a couple of jigs in a row and they threw in the towel and gave up the canvas.
At about 9:40, we called it quits ourselves. We helped the volunteer duty git stack the chairs and then scarpered.
MCR>
Abstractor of the Quintessence
Order of the Digital Grail
Last night was the second of the fortnightly Quail Hollow jam sessions of the season. Attendance by the general public was sparse; most folks probably stayed home to watch the millionaires play ball. There were quite a few musicians, however, so many, in fact, that the mandolin player had to sit in the "ghost chair." (Since Dave died this spring, we had been leaving an empty chair for him in the circle.)
Everybody seemed to play especially well last night. The music was very lively and well synchronized, considering the nature of the event.
The bass lady was there with her five-string bull fiddle and the child's shoe on the peg. She was pounding mighty thuds into the mandolin player's ear. His relief was evident when she went for a coffee break and became involved in an extended conversation in the hallway.
When the fiddler began playing "The Blarney Pilgrim," Russ decided that his accordion was a bit too cumbersome for the tune. He picked up his harmonica and promptly caught his mustache in the slide. I think he had to actually rip it free. He kept making ugly grimaces with his upper lip for the rest of the evening.
Jody's feet were in good shape so she put away her concertina for a while and did some clogging. "Killin' snakes," we called it. She gave us an old fashioned look for that.
A couple of fiddlers joined us from the Bluegrass venues. I don't know if this was another attempt at encroachment or not. They seemed to have trouble with the rhythms we were using. We played a couple of jigs in a row and they threw in the towel and gave up the canvas.
At about 9:40, we called it quits ourselves. We helped the volunteer duty git stack the chairs and then scarpered.
MCR>
Abstractor of the Quintessence
Order of the Digital Grail