The Only Sacred Ground

It’s been almost a week; I better write about Falcon Ridge before it’s time for next year’s festival. Do I remember anything? Enough. I am not going to do my usual play my play of the festival. This year I went as a civilian; there was no Budgiedome and I didn’t even bring my real camera. I only went backstage once, the first time I was looking for Alan Roweth who wasn’t there. The made it to the Green Room only to talk to TEOA (formerly The End of America). It’s been so long since I’ve seen them and wanted to say hi. For the first time in 20 years, I saw the Kennedys and never spoke to them. The closest I got was when Pete and I waved at each other when he peaked out from behind the stage to watch Dar. I avoided the Workshop stage because when I was there are Thursday it felt as hot as the surface of Venus, without the humidity it would have been only as hot as Mercury. It was too hot for even me to wear a mask and hardly anyone was, so I didn’t feel safe in there.

On Friday afternoon, I watched most of the Emerging Artist Showcase, I didn’t make any discoveries. In the evening I watched TEOA. Absence does make the heart grow fonder. I have loved them for years, but I needed reminding how interesting their harmonies are. I say this all the time because each time might be the first time for a new reader. Sure, harmonies can sound beautiful, but if there is nothing but the beautiful sound, I get bored. The harmonies should go somewhere, develop just as much as the melody and lyrics. TEOA’s do and their songs are great.

Saturday’s stage schedule was The Most Wanted Song Swap with The Levins, Big Sky Quartet, and Shanna in a Dress. The BSQ are the only ones new to me, they did not particularly impress. I watched from the back at first but then moved down front, you could do that this year. There was no Tarp Rush. I could always sit pretty much where I wanted. During the day that usually meant in the shade under the trees, but I wanted to get closer for the end of the set.

I watched the Kennedys from down front and the shade with the Van Mercs. I can’t miss the Kennedys if the fabulous Van Merc Sisters are in attendance as they always join them on stage for Stand and that’s always a festival highlight. They aren’t related to me but I still kvell. That happened at the Sunday Morning Gospel Wakeup. I came back later for Mary Gauthier. I didn’t go to the evening lineup at all. On Saturday night Joe and Andrea made the big dinner, grilled steak tips! The girls were there and my friends and other friends’ kids and that makes for a great evening. That was a fitting ending as the day started with the breakfast that is the entire point of Falcon Ridge, Emily’s famous bacon tart which was actually made by the girls. I know Cate worked on it and I think Maggie. At New Bedford Cate discovered my purpose in life; “You’re the excuse to make the bacon tart!” I’m not sure if Cate will ever help with that again as she was shocked and dismayed to discover that I don’t like the Nields. The family had protected her from the harsh truth. Maggie knew, she’s older. I was surprised that Carolyn didn’t know. Mel of course did. Did you know?

I didn’t watch any music on the main stage Saturday, but I did take part of the Jellyfish Parade at the Slambovians Set. This was mainly by accident as I ran into Emily looking Genevieve, the kids, Mel, Carolyn, and Eileen all marched and I joined them. We just stayed for the parade then headed back to their camp for s’mores. I guess I need to explain the Jellyfish Parade, usually just called The Jellies. People take clear umbrellas and festoon them with lights and ribbons to act as tentacles when the Grand Slambovians play. For some that’s the highlight of the festival. For me the s’mores are. Yes, this was a folk festival, but the food is still important, stake, bacon tart, and s’mores and roasted marshmallows will always make me happy.

My plan was to then go over to Camp Stupid Americans to hear the music there with Phil Henry & Aaron Nathans and friends. I found that I lacked the energy to find them in the dark. There is nothing wrong with spending an evening with friends and food.

The Sunday Gospel Wakeup was at the more civilized noon rather than the usual 11 AM. I still wouldn’t have gone if the Kennedys weren’t playing. Watching Maggie and Genevieve join the Kennedys means that all is right in the world. I stayed to watch the always wonderful Crys Matthews joined by musical and real life partner Heather Mae. I can listen to them all day. They are as life affirming in their own way as Pete and Maura. I couldn’t stay for Scott Cook as I had to break down my camp. On Friday I saw Gene & Isabel if they could give me a ride home and they said yes! Being friends with the best people in the world has its advantages. That did mean leaving right after Dar instead of staying through Monday. Sunday night at Falcon Ridge is always special. I made it back in time to see Tony Trishka. I ran into Emily and the girls playing on a hammock next to the stage and using it as a swing. Aaron’s kids were there too. Then they started giving other people rides. I was still listening and heard some great fiddling. Then I heard a voice I know, Michael Daves! I love Michael Daves. That meant sitting in the sun, down front to watch. Once there I saw that Jared Engel was on bass. These were my Brooklyn Peeps. I don’t know the fiddler, but she is an even more awesome mandolinist than fiddler. Who knows her name? Michael? Jared? I need to see more of her.

Dar closed the Festival. Dar Williams at Falcon Ridge is always special, to me the archetype of the festival experience. I always have such a wonderful mix of emotions. It was the only time I went down to the photographers’ area. I danced on the sidelines with Emily. I so wanted to talk to Dar after the show. Even before I met her, I always wanted to talk to Dar after a show. She gets my mind racing and I want to let some of those thoughts bursting out of my head to reach her.

We stayed for the closing song and the tradition there is to mock the closing song, or as so many people call it, the dirge. The performers sing it every year, but nobody seems to know the words. It’s sung for tradition’s sake, and we partake by talking about how bad it is. The closing song should be Gentle Arms of Eden. If This is our home/this is our only home/the only sacred ground that I have ever known doesn’t sum up FRFF what does?

When it was over, I ran around hugging people goodbye. Went back to camp and hugged more people goodbye, then met Gene & Isabel in the parking lot and we went out for dinner at a marvelous place with a record album covers as wallpaper. My burger was delicious. I got home and crashed.

This isn’t a play by play, but it sounds comprehensive but it’s not. I didn’t talk about the scores of random encounters that happen every day, some with friends, some with Falcon Ridge acquaintances, and some with total strangers. It doesn’t matter, I end up stopping and having wonderful conversations with them all. I got friendly with the kids selling the ice. One day they had a trumpet player with them! As I’ve said before all folk bands need a brass section. I finally succeeded in making a bubble with a rope at the children’s activity center. Genevieve was my beard. She fired me as her scotch tape tearer. I got sympathy from the young women in charge of craft supplies. Late Friday night I left the bathroom the same time as Dan Navarro and walked with him to the Big Orange Tarp. We have a million friends (a slight exaggeration) in common, but we have never talked. The next night I did the same thing with Dan Blakeslee who I met at NERFA a few years ago. I made friends with Campbell who ran the Amazon booth. Not Jeff Bezos’ Amazon but a shop that trades in handcrafts from the Peruvian Amazon. Every day he has a slate of trivia questions. If I had money, I’d have bought things from the shop. I ran into Denise the woman that looks like my friend Sylvia whose has a daughter named Deni. I got to catch up with Coco & Bruce, Perry & Beth, and Peter & Paula. I saw Genevieve for the first time since the before times. This is not Emily and Joe’s daughter Genevieve aka Little G, this is musician, photographer/wildlife conservationist, Genevieve aka Middle G. I am Big G. After 20 years I learned volunteer Ellen’s name. I always knew it, but I was always not confident I remembered it right. We go way back, she even volunteered at SMAF. How are we not at least Facebook friends? I you are her Facebook friend and mine, connect us. I could go on like this for days, but I want to make dinner.

More than anything else Falcon Ridge is about the people. Too many were missing this year. I’ve talked to River and Carolann on the phone this week and IMed with Becca. I am acutely missing them now. I’ll see Fred on Tuesday. They missed the family reunion. OK now it’s really time to make dinner before the second game of the Mets’ double header.