Stanfest

There's a poignancy inherent in an event that commemorates the life of a singer/songwriter who died far too young. It continues in the life of a town that died because its principal employer closed up shop. In an event cancelled last year due to a blow-hard named Arthur.

Folk Music is the language of the working people; be they migrant workers, the man behind the plough, the men who go down to the sea in ships, the colliers who enter the deeps, the factory worker, the housemaid on her knees. Too often the pay is too little, the jobs short-lived, the work too hard. In consequence the tone is often melancholy.

Arriving at Stanfest it is hard to believe that matters will ever come together but 800 volunteers pulling together with a will and a co-ordinated purpose seem to always make it happen. The Thursday Night Pre-Party appears to be an opportunity for old friends to renew acquaintance. It is nearly impossible to hear the acts who perform in the dreadful acoustics of the Canso Arena above the chatter.

Stanfest is a party animal kind of place. Quiet hours are between 3:00 AM and 8:00 AM. Generators allowed between 8:00 AM and 11:00 PM. Remember concerts go to 1:00 AM. Waiting until 8 to make one's first coffee is a bit of a strain for early risers. As with most seaports getting anywhere involves a hill and so it was, puff, puff, as I walked into town to shop at the CO-OP. On Thursday July 2^nd their truck had just come in and pallets of food were plopped everywhere in the aisles. They'd just gotten a load of fresh Maritime Strawberries. Bread was from the local bakery I'd just walked past. Sauer Kraut from Lewis Mountain, NB.

Just to tease us it rained overnight twice but managed to clear before concert time each day. Friday Night presented an azure blue clear sky and as the sun set Venus and Jupiter lit up the sky just to the right of stage while a bird flew back and forth with worms to its nest under the eaves above the speakers stage right.

A Duo called Fortunate Ones from NFLD led off proceedings followed by Catherine MacLellan from PEI. Talent really seems to run in families. Guy Davis' harmonica truly sang next. The Pictou Prince Dave Gunning found reason to scowl before he bloomed for the audience. Guitar picking is rarely lacking at these events but Thom Swift stood out, particularly on National Steel. Alan Doyle of Great Big Sea fame to quote others put on an object lesson in how to work an audience. As the night's headline act he held the crowd enthralled. His guitarist Corey Tetford pranced about the stage and watching the expressions on his face proved to provide an act in and of itself. He and the accordionist mugged with Alan while the bassist from Halifax stood expressionless and unmoving. Fiddle and drums completed the group. Harry Chapin's brother performed with Livingston Taylor—a music professor, and EVA, an all female trio. RURA from Scotland were rather loud and featured a mixed group, one in peaked sailor's hat on tin flute and bodhran, a guitar, fiddle and bag pipes. I found the entire evening rather over-amplified and heavy on the bass in particular—the recording from John Allan Cameron as I waited for the show to start boomed. By wrap up time the sky was clear and cold and returning home was about getting warm again.

Morning came all too soon on Saturday. Decided to try out the Shamrock Club for breakfast. It proved to be a continental breakfast with fried dinner ham and boiled eggs thrown in. I was underwhelmed.

Daytime workshops from 11:00 to 6:00 PM provide an opportunity for solo acts to give an extended performance and to highlight acts that don't get their moment on the main stage. When groups of performers join up for a themed presentation the magic happens when up to four groups use the opportunity to jam together. Alas egos often get in the way. It is also instructive to see whether event hosts choose to lead off or let others go first. With 5 stages performing simultaneously plumping for one group is a dilemma.

For Bards and Ballads Nathan Rogers, Rachel Sermani and Mike Doyle played nice and supported one another.

The next grouping of Ryan Cook, Fortunate Ones, and Shiretown performed as solo acts. Seeing performers up close and personal gives them the opportunity to supply background to their songs and personal details. Ryan Cook from Yarmouth grew up on a dairy farm—“You can whip our cream, but you can't beat our milk.” The farm is no more.

The Fitzgerald Family are Everything Fitz from Bancroft Ontario playing Ottawa Valley style fiddle and tap dancing. With the second act a no show they put on an impromptu hour-long bravura performance with one of their own number a late arrival due to travel problems. Great fiddling even more impressive when done while tap dancing. Just watching them made me feel sore. Their novelty fiddle act is sheer magic. Tom loosened the hair on his bow and pulled it over his fiddle to play all four strings at once.

I remained at the Queensport Stage for About My Home. All these groups seem to blend together in one's mind. A break for late lunch at 3:00.

At the Fox Island Stage Garnet Rogers led a workshop called There's Something Wrong in the World. Garnet told us about the county expropriating a family's land to ship crushed rock to China. As Sam Baker put it, “Don't they have rocks in China.”

Songs by my Heroes So who were their heroes?

Singalongs Alas the songs selected tended to give one the message that audience participation was not really wanted.

Something about a Saturday Night Audience dating back to my days in Amateur Theatre. Granted that I've been spoiled by the classical music experience for the not so subtle differences of the pop music genre. But the gang who moved in behind me Saturday Night had zero interest in listening to the acts on stage which begs the question, if all you want is a family reunion why go to a concert and spoil it for those who want to listen. I finally had to get up and move elsewhere. People so boorish wouldn't give it a second thought.

I'd already seen Chuck Brodsky and Sam Baker in the afternoon. Matt Anderson, a surprise replacement for the third act was popular with the crowd. Lennie Gallant followed and then Bruce Guthro headlined. He brought out his 24-year-old son and then in succession filled the stage with 10 other musicians. Breabach from Scotland brought twin bagpipes, end blown flute and transverse, fiddle, guitar and stand-up bass plucked and bowed. Modern young celtic performers do their own interpretations of traditional ballads and seem to shun performing unplugged. Maddy Prior strutted regally on stage amid the wall of sound her backup group provided. When the noise became painful I made it a night missing the final group—Shanneyganock. I'd long since moved so I could hear the performers above the audience racket.

Sunday Morning began wet for those up that early. I walked up to the arena for their breakfast in paper machete box after brewing my own coffee at home. Seven bucks gets you scrambled eggs, hash browns, curled bacon, three sausages, and buttered toast—single slice. Grab your own condiments. There's a reason for the term greasy spoon.

Went outside to access the Pourhouse Stage. Though the place has dreadful acoustics it affords an opportunity to sit inches from the performers and see them eye to eye.

The first act was Lennie Gallant from PEI accompanied by two sons on drums and guitar. A fourth musician on fiddle. The latest in drums is an enclosed box the performer sits on getting different timbres depending on where they strike it with hands or brushes or padded sticks. First saw one 4 years ago at Louisbourg Playhouse. Lennie is a folky who has written many hockey ballads having played left wing in his younger days. He told of drilling a hole in the ice on a backyard pond to flood the ice to smooth it out. When he met Brian Trottier at a community game he was told. We had one of those backyard ponds, somewhere out west, when we wanted to flood it we just kicked a couple of logs out of the beaver dam—can you get any more Canadian than that?

I hung around to see Everything Fitz a second time. With both sisters present the act was somewhat different. I marvel at their father's ability to keep an act involving three growing young adults together for 10 years. I haven't checked to see what's happening with the Leahy Family lately.

What followed was termed Fiddle Fever. Fiddlers from 3 groups accompanied by mandolin and guitar. Elsewhere at another time and location I missed the guitar workshop, always a highlight. Watching fiddlers jam together unrehearsed is a treat.

Slipped home for lunch and missed the blowhard intro to Singing Stan. Seeing some twenty performers on stage to work together was worth the price of admission.

Opted to settle at the Fox Island Stage near my campsite for the last three workshops.

Hard to single out individual performances after all those acts but interesting at the time to see what choices were made.

At a session titled Songs about Underdogs Bruce Guthro and Nathan Rogers exchanged some rather pointed barbs while Sam Baker and Chuck Brodsky tried to avoid the verbal fencing. Some of the humour and the songs were rather X-rated.

Rita Coolidge's handlers spent 25 minutes setting up and perfecting sound check. The few numbers she performed were sonically perfect but was all that worth it? I first saw her at about 1000 ft from the balcony of Karl Marx Theatre in Havana, Cuba with her husband of 8 years Kris Kristofferson. Seems I missed a few of her exes. She hasn't aged well but make-up and plastic surgery help. She ran over. Aside from her parade of husbands she talked of her Cherokee heritage and sang Amazing Grace in her native tongue. I am not a fan of Gospel Songs or any ballad drawn out in agonizing fashion.

Barely time for supper before finding a place to park for the evening. Found a “window” between two female beached whales that moved into preplaced seats. Their smoking buddy walked all over my feet in the dark going out to smoke every half hour. At least the gang this night were relatively quiet.

Garnet Rogers came on first to a lawn that was packed with empty chairs. He was gracious and pulled out two sheets of paper that contained an excerpt from the book he is writing about touring with his brother to come out this Fall.

Hat Fitz and Cara were a pair from Australia. He played National Steel and she sat in a long dress with her legs splayed in front of a set of drums and wore a brilliantly red hat of bird feathers. She drummed, sang, played washboard with steel studded gloves and penny whistle. He sang and reacted badly to his wife translating his thick outback accent.

Coig—Scottish for five are a group formed after a Cape Breton workshop placed them together. Interesting sound but over loud.

Room was made for an Ozark group that failed to make it Saturday. Looking like the cast from Dueling Banjos in the movie Deliverance the men had flowing beards and long flaxen hair. Ten-year-old EmiSunshine left we wondering what constitutes child abuse as she sang lyrics I hope are beyond her years.

Rita Coolidge performed non-stop for over an hour songs spanning her decades and husbands. Note perfect performance but I tire quickly of that long drawn out ballad style of singing.

Long haired young Jordan Musycsyn was raved about by the hosts with his past shoulder-length hair, patched jeans and 8-piece band including black blues pianist in white suit and red tie. I didn't see what the fuss was about. They did make a lot of noise.

The Standfields, a local act were 5—guitar, bass, drum, bouzouki, and electric mandolin. They weren't as bad as I'd expected is the best that I can say.

The closing singalong was for the 40 some people on stage but didn't include the audience who couldn't have read the words printed in the program anyway at 12:30 AM in the dark. I'd brought my light and was disappointed. They skipped two of the numbers including the final Amazing Grace already performed in Cherokee by Rita Coolidge.