Category Archives: music

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Heroes and Heroines

Another group that I saw at the nowhereelse festival is Ben Sollee. The group was him, his cello, and a drummer. And oh, my gosh, could they fill the tent with music! And he used that cello in all sorts of ways.

So here is his song about heroes and heroines: Cajun Navy.

I like this one too: Infowars.

The photograph is of Helen Burling Ottaway’s small etching, Dolphin.

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Bow

“Pull that bow!” Kristen and Otto Smith playing at the Great Port Townsend Bay Kinetic Sculpture Festival. Kristin taught both my children violin, and my daughter viola. She can play fiddletunes and classical music and is fabulous, fabulous, fabulous. And here is another view of a kinetic sculpture and a man in a suit.

Now, why don’t I have a suit with pink flamingos? That’s my question. Take your bow, sir.

For the Ragtag Daily Prompt: pull.

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Wach Auf!

Oomph! is a German band. The line up has changed over the years, but they have 14 albums out to date. Wikipedia describes their style as incorporating many styles including “metal, industrial, alternative rock, electronica and gothic”. I think my personal AI got worried — it played “Sweet Coffee Jazz Music and Bossa Nova Piano smooth for Energizing the day” after I put Wach Auf on. It knows I don’t listen to a lot of metal, industrial, alternative rock, electronic, gothic German bands.

The song Wach Auf was in the movie Aliens vs Predator: Requiem.

The photograph is me in 2022 at Halloween. Might be a good thing to wear to an Oomph! concert.

They are all new to me, thanks to the Ragtag Daily Prompt: Oomph!

I am hoping Wach Auf! isn’t a swear. I asked google to translate it and it failed. Uh-oh. I have sung Wachet Auf.

I tried again. It translates “Wach auf” as Wake up and “Wachet Auf” as Shut Up. Hmmm. That seems ironic.

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Music to my ears

I grew up with lots of music. My father played guitar and lute and Segovia is engraved in my memory. He and my mother sang in large choruses: the Brahms Requiem, the Mozart Requiem and Bach. We had lots of classical records. I was born in the early 60s when my parents were in college, so they had tons of records. The Band, Bob Dylan, the Loving Spoonful, Joanie Mitchell, Oscar Brand and Jean Richie. I didn’t buy my first record until I was in my early teens and I bought ABBA. My father said, “This is POP!” I said, “I am a 14 year old girl. OF COURSE it’s pop and it’s really good.” He was mildly horrified.

We sang folk songs. My parents were editing them by the time I was three, because I was memorizing the words. They put the naughty folk song records away. They avoided sentimental songs. We learned “dead girl songs”, as my sister called them (Banks of the Ohio, Long Black Veil, Clementine, When I was a Bachelor, there are a lot of educational dead girl songs). We learned lots of comic songs. We also learned work and protest songs and absorbed our parents’ hatred of discrimination.

I set up a recording session for my father and sister and I after my mother died. I have a recording of us singing Long Black Veil and other songs. Here is The Band singing it.

Let’s have a band with women too, and for me that is Sweet Honey in the Rock. Acapella, with a sign language translator, and now they have been singing for ?forty years? They have amazing children’s songs and they are willing to sing about grief and protest. They have sustained me through the loss of my mother, sister and father.

And from one of the children’s albums.

The photograph is of my father at his 70th birthday in 2008. Malcolm K. Ottaway, with Andie Makie and Coke Francis. Andie is playing harmonica, my father on guitar. Malene Robinson took these photographs. The next is me and my sister at that party.

And one more of my sister, Christine Robbins Ottaway.

For the Ragtag Daily Prompt: bands. Wait, you said keep this light. Oh, well. Fail on that.

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Port of Port Townsend party

What is this strange picture you ask?

Party last night, Barbecue at the Port of Port Townsend, and it was lots of fun. I missed the first couple of bands, but arrived for this one.

The stage is not one but two nested travellifts! How cool is that? Full moon, there was a rainbow and beautiful sunset that I missed, and there was food with three choices. They were out by the time I got there. It got prettier and prettier in the dark.

And heading home, many boats are lit up and beautiful.

And one more moon picture.

For the Ragtag Daily Prompt: moon.

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mom proud

In the Vatican Museum, I note that the paintings are attributed to men. I start really looking for a woman artist. Of course, some of the male artists may have stolen the work or be “passing”. I love this small sculpture, by a woman artist. I think I saw two works clearly by women. Dear Vatican: get a clue.

Around age 13, my son listened continuously to three bands or musicians. We had two years where I swear, he wouldn’t play anything else.

And this is where I feel proud as a mom.

Jimi Hendrix. Bob Marley and the Wailers.

And the third is Sweet Honey in the Rock. African American women a capella. And so he knows about Harry Moore and Joanne Little.

Prayers for all the people discriminated against, terrorized, or in the the path of disaster. And for all the motherless children, we who have had our mothers die. Dave Van Ronk: motherless child.

Go Keb’ Mo.

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Names

Last night I go to the Cowboy Ball, replete with cupcakes. It is the kick off of our local county fair, which is in two weeks. There is an hour two-step lesson and then a really fun band. The crowd is very mixed. There are some people who can two step, though not very many. There are some people faking it. After a while there are people dancing six count swing or tango or salsa, but everyone waltzes when they play the waltzes. It’s not quite a polka.

One dance partner asks, “Are you the poet doctor?” I blink. “Yes,” I say, pleased. “Which open mike were you at?” “Disco Bay.” I have done four there in the last three months, three at the poetry open mike and one at a music open mike. I was assured that they want poets too at the latter. Ok, then. “And what do you play?” I ask, because it must have been the music open mike. “Drums.” He is with a band that I know. “When do you play again?” He wrinkles his forehead. “I’d have to check my calendar.” “Get back to me!” I say and he says, “Thanks.” All this while dancing. We are doing some two step, falling into swing whenever one of us messes up a step.

I am nicknamed the dancing doctor by the coffee stand at the Farmer’s Market. She writes that on my cup. They are right next to the outdoor “stage”. I try to lure small children out to dance, solo since they don’t know me. They are wonderfully free and fun when they do come out.

I am pretty thrilled to be the poet doctor! We will see if that sticks in this community.

The photograph is Simon Lynge and Janna Marit two weeks ago at the Farmer’s Market. And here is the coffee stand.


And look! The poster for the Cowboy Dance in the lower left!

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For the Ragtag Daily Prompt: community.