BeigeJournal

On Saturday night we had a filk here in Milwaukee, hosted by Barisha and Richard. Nate Bucklin and Louie were there, along with quite a gang from Chicago, including anach, jerusha, almeda, Bill and Gretchen Roper, Becca, and EliseAlyse. From Milwaukee we had Art, Carol and John, Lee, Barisha and Richard (obviously), and Joyce and myself. I’m sure that if I missed or misspelled anybody someone will let me know.

It was nice to see everyone.

It is always great to hear Nate and Louie, and they had plenty of music to share, staying up past three to do so. Nate told some most interesting stories of his start in music as a young child, writing and performing at age nine on the very same well-used guitar he plays today.

I think this was the first time I’ve heard Eloise play guitar. She brought us some Blake Hodgetts as well. Art played some singalong material as well as some…deeply bizarre material. His response to The Eensie-Weensie Spider, special as it is, is not nearly as bizarre as the one about the chili.

Bill sang Teenage Popsicle Girl when we were on the dead girlfriends theme, and, with Gretchen, that song about how she was right and he was wrong. If you’ve heard it, you know which one I’m talking about (You almost volatilized my kitchen!).

Betsey led the traditional group singing of Outward Bound. I get to try out the bottom of my range singing along with her on that, which is fun.

As for me, I’m finding myself relatively functional these days when in front of an audience. It is kind of odd to have heart pounding before performing something and then after playing be so shaky that lifting a glass to drink is a challenge and yet actually play a musical instrument more-or-less successfully in between, but it certainly is better than shaking then, too, like I used to.

I would guess, from audience reaction, that not everyone had heard Ingrate before. It is a joy to see that moment when people realize what they are hearing.

I think I was pretty close to 100% as far as hitting the right notes goes playing Foggy Dew on the flute, though the tone at times could be better. I think the stage fright effects the breath control more than it does the fingers these days. I remembered to look at the key signature before starting this time, which doesn’t hurt. My run through Bach’s Fugue in G minor contained numerous fumbles, but to some extent people are impressed just that anyone would try to play such a thing at three in the morning at a filk.

I hope to see everyone again at the next filk.

(Comment below or in my Livejournal.)