SOMEWHAT SURPRISING COUNTRY BAND AT GARDEN PARTY

This was a genteel little neighborhood party, the kind where a woman could remark how God had provided such a wonderful day for a party and not mean it ironically. And the musical entertainment was what you might expect in such a venue: a strolling guitarist, a woman singing show tunes a capella (for those of you who don't speak Italian, that means singing with a mouthful of capers. It creates a kind of warbly tone while at the same time encouraging guests not to sit too close to the stage.) With the exception of a band which may have been playing together for the very first time, but their eccentric musicianship is not what captures the forefront here, even though the harmonica player has achieved a tone that causes in the listener a desire to convert all his or her assets to cash and buy a plane ticket to Nepal, hire a handful of Sherpas, climb the highest mountain, and enter the monastery that perches on top of said mountain, never again to descend to altitudes which might nurture similar sounds as emitted by that harmonica player. No, it was the songwriting prowess of the lead singer, who uttered the above lyrics repeatedly and loudly while the ladies present fanned their bosoms and pretended to examine the magnolia trees surrounding them. It was a memorable performance, and I was moved to hold up my lighter toward the end of the set. Aside from that slight dissonance, it was a genteel and neighborly evening, the kind you still encounter in southern towns. I hope such gatherings continue to thrive, and I don't even mean that ironically.

Comments

[Eva]

Haha! Sounds like a great party! Thanks for sharing :-D

[frank]

With the exception of a band which may have been playing together for the very first time, but their eccentric musicianship is not what captures the forefront here, even though the harmonica player has achieved a tone that causes in the listener a desire to convert all his or her assets to cash and buy a plane ticket to Nepal, hire a handful of Sherpas, climb the highest mountain, and enter the monastery that perches on top of said mountain, never again to descend to altitudes which might nurture similar sounds as emitted by that harmonica player.

Of course! The thin air at high altitude nullifying the workings of the harmonica no matter how hard you blow. No wonder none of the blues men with their blues harps, Sonny Boy Williamson, John Lee Hooker etc., were men of the highlands.

The only problem I can foresee with your journey to the 'roof of the world' is being woken up at 5.30 in the morning with an orchestra of half a dozen dungchens, I can see you descending quicker than Mae West's knickers to get back down to a harmonica enabling altitude!

Talking about harmonicas, Stevie Wonder presented the creator of the Glastonbury Festival with one last night, on their 40th anniversary. He said he'd already given two to Barack Obama.

Life is all about learning something every day I always say..

[Wally]

,,,and now I have inadvertently become a slave to your daily lesson philosophy with the damned dungchen reference. Thanks a whole lot, Frank. I go to great lengths to avoid learning something every day, and now this!