School Performances and Festival Goodness
In keeping with my overwhelming urge to see live musical performances, I had the pleasure of attending two such music filled events last week. The first one was my 7 year old daughter's elementary school Earth Day Musical Extravaganza. We were of course running around trying to get ready, and unfortunately (or maybe fortunately on second thought) my daughter's pre-teen girly girl gene has not fully kicked in yet. She is rather unpredictable because sometimes she wants curls in her hair and she must wear that certain pair of jeans, but other times she seemingly doesn't care much about her appearance. For instance brushing her teeth has become a exercise in trickery. I must now check the toothbrush for wetness and the sink for blobs of toothpaste in order to fully ensure that her teeth have been properly brushed.
But anyway, when inspecting her face for the impending musical performance that would require my daughter to stand on a stage with parents and other miscellaneous onlookers judging each parent based on their child's hygeine and talent, I felt it important that the gunk and dirt be removed from her face. She wanted to know why I was always so concerned with that. Trust me, I told myself that I never wanted to be the mom that licked her finger to clean the gunk off her kid's face and though I have broken some unspoken "I would never do that as a parent" promises I made to myself, this is one I still hold strong on. I told her, rather impatiently, that I didn't want her to look like dirty white trash. To which she responded(and which incidentally caused me to chill out), that it would be appropriate because their performance was about trash- after all. You see in celebration of Earth Day, the music teacher-who by the way would have fit in nicely with any drum circle at a Grateful Dead concert-organized the musical entertainment around Earth Day.
So the kindergarteners sang "The Chi-Chi Bird", a song from Jamaica. The third graders sang a song from Liberia. And you know the expression "He marches to the beat of a different drummer"? Well, that saying was particulary appropriate for the boy in the green shirt who went left when everyone else went right and went right when everyone else went left during the dance number. Unless of course he was dead on and all the other kids were the ones that were off. At least that's what his mother was probably thinking. The fifth graders played songs on the recorder and one of their parents must have been seated behind me. I kept hearing utterances of sheer delight and pleasure during When the Saints Coming Marching Home and Amazing Grace. And honestly, the kids weren't that bad, but didn't rise to the occassion of a vocal orgasm that was occurring behind me. My daughter's class played rhythms with instruments they had made out of trash. So there were plastic drain pipes that were scraped with sticks. Big water bottles and pots and pans served as drums. My daughter played the coffee can shaker and let me tell you she can shake that thing better than any shaker I've ever seen, so I guess I understood the woman behind me who was beside herself with the oohing and aahing during the recorder performance. The look of concentration, determination and trepidation on my daughter's face was priceless, and I even got a little teary eyed-but I'll blame it on hormones not on unexplainable motherly pride.
To shift gears somewhat, I also attended the Grassroots Festival at Shakori Hills this past Friday. Despite the threat of rain, the weather cooperated and my husband and I escaped parenthood temporarily to enjoy all the festival goodness. We were going mainly to see Jim Lauderdale perform who played his set with Donna the Buffalo as his backing band. Let me tell you I got to shake my mojo loose during that set. Whoa! Whoa! Whoa! It was awesome, but I must admit that my festival preparation was rather amiss. I forgot lawn chairs, bug spray, and the all important beverage cup to hide the al-kee-hol. Being a family event there was to be no public display of alchoholic beverages. We somehow managed to break that rule without getting reprimanded or accosted, so all in all it was a success. We also saw a set by Sonny Landreth who is from Louisana and is kick ass guitarist-not mutually exclusive qualities mind you. Well, maybe you can be a kick ass guitarist and not be from Louisiana, but if you're from Louisiana you must kick ass on the guitar. It's some kind of residency requirement or maybe something in the (black) water, I don't know. I can't fully explain all phenomenon. Then we caught Oteil and the Peacemakers which was a lot like Aquarium Rescue Unit (ARU) minus Col. Bruce and Apt Q258, being that Oteil played bass for ARU. Funky, bluesy rock and roll with the same singer ARU used after the Colonel left the band. Perfect rolling green hills, kind people, and a perfect night. It's times like these that I'm reminded why life is worth living. It's not about the bull shit, it really is all about the good times. May there be many more festies to enjoy!
So, even though my musical exposure this past week may have initially seemed to be a study in contrasts let it be known that they be more similar that you might think. Afterall, most of the musicians I appreciate march to their own beat. And future festival musicians could very well have been on that elementary school stage. And with the gusto and pride that some of those kids exuded, it wouldn't surprise me to see that kid in the green shirt jamming at some festival one day. I'm sure his mother will still be beaming with pride.
But anyway, when inspecting her face for the impending musical performance that would require my daughter to stand on a stage with parents and other miscellaneous onlookers judging each parent based on their child's hygeine and talent, I felt it important that the gunk and dirt be removed from her face. She wanted to know why I was always so concerned with that. Trust me, I told myself that I never wanted to be the mom that licked her finger to clean the gunk off her kid's face and though I have broken some unspoken "I would never do that as a parent" promises I made to myself, this is one I still hold strong on. I told her, rather impatiently, that I didn't want her to look like dirty white trash. To which she responded(and which incidentally caused me to chill out), that it would be appropriate because their performance was about trash- after all. You see in celebration of Earth Day, the music teacher-who by the way would have fit in nicely with any drum circle at a Grateful Dead concert-organized the musical entertainment around Earth Day.
So the kindergarteners sang "The Chi-Chi Bird", a song from Jamaica. The third graders sang a song from Liberia. And you know the expression "He marches to the beat of a different drummer"? Well, that saying was particulary appropriate for the boy in the green shirt who went left when everyone else went right and went right when everyone else went left during the dance number. Unless of course he was dead on and all the other kids were the ones that were off. At least that's what his mother was probably thinking. The fifth graders played songs on the recorder and one of their parents must have been seated behind me. I kept hearing utterances of sheer delight and pleasure during When the Saints Coming Marching Home and Amazing Grace. And honestly, the kids weren't that bad, but didn't rise to the occassion of a vocal orgasm that was occurring behind me. My daughter's class played rhythms with instruments they had made out of trash. So there were plastic drain pipes that were scraped with sticks. Big water bottles and pots and pans served as drums. My daughter played the coffee can shaker and let me tell you she can shake that thing better than any shaker I've ever seen, so I guess I understood the woman behind me who was beside herself with the oohing and aahing during the recorder performance. The look of concentration, determination and trepidation on my daughter's face was priceless, and I even got a little teary eyed-but I'll blame it on hormones not on unexplainable motherly pride.
To shift gears somewhat, I also attended the Grassroots Festival at Shakori Hills this past Friday. Despite the threat of rain, the weather cooperated and my husband and I escaped parenthood temporarily to enjoy all the festival goodness. We were going mainly to see Jim Lauderdale perform who played his set with Donna the Buffalo as his backing band. Let me tell you I got to shake my mojo loose during that set. Whoa! Whoa! Whoa! It was awesome, but I must admit that my festival preparation was rather amiss. I forgot lawn chairs, bug spray, and the all important beverage cup to hide the al-kee-hol. Being a family event there was to be no public display of alchoholic beverages. We somehow managed to break that rule without getting reprimanded or accosted, so all in all it was a success. We also saw a set by Sonny Landreth who is from Louisana and is kick ass guitarist-not mutually exclusive qualities mind you. Well, maybe you can be a kick ass guitarist and not be from Louisiana, but if you're from Louisiana you must kick ass on the guitar. It's some kind of residency requirement or maybe something in the (black) water, I don't know. I can't fully explain all phenomenon. Then we caught Oteil and the Peacemakers which was a lot like Aquarium Rescue Unit (ARU) minus Col. Bruce and Apt Q258, being that Oteil played bass for ARU. Funky, bluesy rock and roll with the same singer ARU used after the Colonel left the band. Perfect rolling green hills, kind people, and a perfect night. It's times like these that I'm reminded why life is worth living. It's not about the bull shit, it really is all about the good times. May there be many more festies to enjoy!
So, even though my musical exposure this past week may have initially seemed to be a study in contrasts let it be known that they be more similar that you might think. Afterall, most of the musicians I appreciate march to their own beat. And future festival musicians could very well have been on that elementary school stage. And with the gusto and pride that some of those kids exuded, it wouldn't surprise me to see that kid in the green shirt jamming at some festival one day. I'm sure his mother will still be beaming with pride.
posted by amyd | 5:04 PM
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