Last Friday, my Handsome Assistant and I went to Baltimore Soundstage to see Folkfest of the North, featuring Nini, TrollfesT, Ensiferum, and Korpiklaani. We were both only familiar with the latter two, but hey, I’m always up to hear some unfamiliar stuff in genres I’m into.
And it was a fantastic idea.
We came in at the end of Nini’s set because we were running late, despite our best efforts. It doesn’t help that I was wearing cargo pants (they’re men’s pants, so they have the good pockets) and had forgotten the amount of random life flotsam that I had accumulated throughout the day. So I had to fully unload some weird little art projects, about eleven lipbalms, my keys, a handkerchief, and a pocket full of lobelia seeds I had foraged on a walk while I was looking for skulls. (“Those are… emotional support seeds.”)
Anyway. We came in just as NiNi was halfway through a cover of Baby One More Time. I was glad we didn’t miss them entirely, but I would’ve liked to hear more. Fortunately, she has a pretty extensive YouTube channel with her other work — folk metal played with traditional Chinese instruments (Nini herself is Taiwanese).
Next was TrollfesT, from Norway. They came out in full flamingo costumes for Flamingo Overlord, a concept album about the rise of a world-dominating flamingo dictator. Their opening song was Dance Like a Pink Flamingo, which is loads of fun, very catchy, and an absolutely scathing indictment of remaining apolitical and distracting yourself while the world burns around you.
Their songs were great. There was a bubble machine. There was a massive venue-spanning conga line. It was a fantastic time and I’ve been listening to them on repeat ever since. I hate that it took me this long to hear them.
After that was Ensiferum, who probably needs no introduction. I used to listen to them a lot years ago, but kind of fell out of it (and I’m sorry I did). They were also very good, and it was immediately obvious that a ton of the crowd was there for them. I didn’t recognize their newer stuff, but that’s fine with me — I was 100% here for it regardless.
Last up was Korpiklaani, the band that originally got me to get tickets in the first place. They’re always a lot of fun — there’s never a lot of between-songs banter, so it’s just back-to-back bangers. Jonne Jarvela’s mic was also better than last time, so the vocals were much more balanced and not as drowned out.
Also, I’ve read the stereotypes of folk metal fans: We’re not as hard as other metalheads. We dig the silliness. We’re here to party. We drink room-temperature dark beer and are more likely to form kick lines and dance in a circle than mosh. And honestly? I get it. Hell, I embrace it.
(I have, however, never met a racist folk metal fan. That’s not to say that they don’t exist, of course — lift up any subculture and you’re bound to find all sorts of weird things crawling underneath — but the bands I enjoy don’t espouse those ideas, and the folk metalheads I’ve interacted with don’t either. Honestly, most of them have stories about bouncing dickheads from shows.)
Also:
Shamlessly stolen from the r/MetalMemes subreddit.
Both my Handsome Assistant and I had a great time. All of the bands were delightful. I went home a sweaty mess from dancing (and honestly, you should come home with sweaty hair and streaky makeup from a show. At maximum, a minor concussion and maybe some loose teeth but your mileage may vary). I can’t wait until any of them are back in the area again. 🖤
My Handsome Assistant, some friends, and I try to go to at least one Renaissance Faire every year — usually the MD or PA Ren Faire. If you’re not familiar with them (they seem to mostly be an American thing), Ren Faires are basically big mostly-outdoor markets, made to look like a Tudor era village. There’s food, entertainment, and people often like to wear loosely Renaissance or fantasy-inspired costumes to go. They’re a lot of fun, and I’ve found some very cool stuff (and people!) at them. This year, we went to the PA Renaissance Faire in Manheim, PA, at Mount Hope Estate.
I don’t really do a lot of shopping during the rest of the year — I might go to a thrift shop if I have a specific item of clothing or houseware that I’m looking for, but otherwise I’m all about make, make do, and mend — so I save up to get to go a little wild at Ren Faires and Pagan Pride Day. We usually have a list of things we’re looking for specifically. For my Handsome Assistant, this is usually belts, bags, or additions to his costume. For me, this year I was looking for handmade instruments and fountain pens.
(We also tend to buy a lot of tea anytime we take a vacation or day trip. I joke that it’s how I time things. When we run out of tea, it’s time to get out of the house.)
Stuff
First, shopping at the PA Ren Faire. Like I mentioned above, we bought some tea because we always do. I did also get a very nice cherry wood fountain pen from Denyan Designs (which is currently loaded with Diamine Writer’s Blood).
My Handsome Assistant got a lovely cloak from Up Your Kilt/As You Like It (“Because if it’s not as you like it, it has no business being up your kilt!”). It’s a very nice, versatile olive color, thick and warm, and long enough to fold and wear in a lot of different ways. He also got some new bracers to replace his old, plasticky costume set.
The World’s Best Hat
“It probably fits you fine! Stop flirting with it and just get the hat.”
I like hats. I started liking hats when I first shavedmy head and realized that my choices were a) start wearing a lot more hats and bandanas, or b) rub sunscreen into my head every day. Even now that it’s only half-shaved, I’m still very careful to keep the sun off of my head. (Melanoma is not invited to my pizza party.)
I went to the PA Ren Faire wearing a sun hat already, like I usually do — it goes with my costume, and helps keep my decidedly not period-correct hair from detracting too much from the “look.”
Then I saw the hat. A black bowler. Satin braid around the rim, with a fringe of tiny teal crystals all around. A wide teal ribbon as a band, festooned with peacock feathers. Teal tulle and a purple ribbon trailing from the back. All of my favorite colors. It was gorgeous, and also looked to be entirely too small. Still, I kept going back to it. I didn’t want to try it on in the shop, because some shops are touchy about that. I took it down from the display, admired it, and put it back. I took it down again, took off my sun hat, and compared the two side by side. Finally, my Handsome Assistant just threw his hands up. Just get the hat.
So, I did. It fit like it was made for me. It didn’t quite go with my costume, but it was safely ensconced in a bag and I was already planning all of the outfits I’d wear it with. (Like this really cool jacket I got when we went to New Hope.)
And Then I Wore the Hat
We ducked into Oh, Jessa!, a bright, showy clothing shop. I wasn’t really looking for another costume piece, but I’m a sucker for bright colors and shiny things as much as any toddler or corvid.
(Sometimes, I take pictures of interesting color combinations so I can play around with them while painting.)
Then I checked the tag — XS. I’m a fine weight for my size, with a decent amount of muscle, but I don’t know of any reality in which I can make myself occupy an extra small. Still, it looked like it might fit, and it did lace up…
“If you’re about a size 4 or 5, it’ll probably fit,” one of the very nice shopkeepers told me. I had my doubts, and it was more than I wanted to spend on a piece I hadn’t planned for, but just trying it on wouldn’t hurt, right?
Go figure, it was incredibly comfortable. The colors were the perfect jewel tones that suit my complexion (aggressively beige, very neutral, greenish in undertone, with a tendency to tan). It provided the perfect amount of support, even loosely laced in a hurry over a very voluminous chemise.
I stepped out and asked my Handsome Assistant to hand me the hat. It was a perfect match — down to the peacock feathers on the brim and the decidedly peacock-like tail of the ruffled bottom of the vest. This is going to sound very “and then everyone clapped,” but three people exclaimed about how good it all looked together. I took the tag from the vest, handed it to the person at the register, and left wearing it and the world’s best hat.
When we got outside, my Handsome Assistant wanted to take some pictures. I was awkwardly posing (I hate pictures), when a tiny, adorable child ran up to me and looked up, eyes enormous.
“I like your costume!”
“Thank you!”
“Do you want a-” I couldn’t make out the last bit.
“Sure!” I was already sold. I probably would’ve followed this kid into battle.
They handed me something and quickly ran away, back to their parents. I looked down at my hand, and you guys.
It was a tiny orange axolotl. I think my heart melted and ran out of my body.
(For real, kids don’t mess around and have a very well-deserved reputation for having no filter. A sincere compliment from a tiny child is worth more to me than every compliment I’ve ever received from an adult.)
I did also get several other compliments on the hat that day, which was a pretty big boost to my confidence and overall mood. Assuming that sky burials aren’t legal by the time I bite the grass, I am going to be buried in this hat.
Food
It’s not easy to avoid eggs, dairy, or meat at places/events like this, because food is usually done for flavor and convenience and the majority of Americans don’t really have an issue with any of those dietary components. Just in case, I stashed some Feel bars in my belt bag before we left.
(I also keep a 3″ knife, waterproof matches, a multitool, bug spray, a tick spoon, four kinds of lip balm, a can of Emergency Seltzer, a fountain pen, and two kinds of suncreen in my regular, every day backpack. I am nothing if not extremely prepared, always.)
If you’re not like me, there’re a lot more options. Giant smoked turkey legs, barbecue, sausage, pizza, you name it.
The only caveat is that pretty much all of the food is cash-only (or uses “Coin of the Realm,” tokens you can get near the entrance). Credit card fees can be pretty brutal for businesses that primarily do a large volume of small transactions — picture being charged $1 processing fee on one $100 transaction, versus $1 on each of 20 $5 transactions. To circumvent this, food vendors don’t take credit or debit cards. It can be slightly annoying if you aren’t expecting it but isn’t a big deal if you come prepared. Also, water is expensive, it can get hot, and it’s important to stay hydrated when you’re walking so much, so we brought our own glass water bottles to refill them at fountains/sinks as needed.
Fun
So, the PA Ren Faire has parades, jousting, and a variety of comedy shows, plays, demonstrations, and musicians.
We passed by a troll sitting under a bit of a ruined bridge, singing loudly. There were two boxes in front of him: one labeled “keep playing,” and the other labeled “hush money.” At that point, my Handsome Assistant’s curiosity was piqued and he made up his mind that we were going to watch the troll show.
As it turns out, Hob the Troll was delightful. It’s an all-ages show, so there’s nothing too racy, but all of the songs had a great balance of “stuff kids will get and laugh at” and “stuff only adults will get and laugh at.” My favorites were the song about Fr​ö​š​t​ï​ë the Snowman, the Dread Ship Montessori, and a “children’s drinking song” about that juvenile rite of passage: making Potions.
(Side note, when my younger sibling was four or so, he was complaining of a bad stomachache out of nowhere. A couple of hours later, he produced a two-liter soda bottle filled with a mixture of tap water, Pert Plus 2-in-1 shampoo, and the insides of a yellow highlighter and loudly warned, “Nobody drink this.”)
Also! We met a beautiful African pied crow named Goose. Like the pied crow at Pagan Pride Day, Goose accepted donations. What’s more, he’d take the donation from you, hop onto a cash box, and deposit it inside. And let me tell you, this boy was so freaking happy and excitedto do his tiny job!
We walked up to the area where he accepted donations, and he was full on hopping all along his perch, onto the cash box, off of the cash box, doing little spins, bobbing his head, all just super stoked to get to do his thing, because doing his thing means treats and praise.
Goose, the African pied crow, being very excited to get to deposit donations.
Also there were unicorns.
The PA Ren Faire was a fun, albeit very tiring day. I wish we’d been able to get to more than one Faire this year, but it seems like everywhere sold out pretty quickly. Fortunately, I’m probably going to get plenty of wear out of The Hat long before next year’s Faire season rolls around!
Wednesday night, my Handsome Assistant and I went to go see Faun at Baltimore Soundstage. (I know — I mostly listen to folk metal, but I also enjoy a fair bit of regular Pagan folk, too. My Assistant is predominately into punk, but still lets me drag him along.)
By the time we left, I was sweaty and exhausted. We stopped at a Wawa on the way home, where I proceeded to eat half a tube of Pringles for dinner. And the show was 1000% worth it.
For real. I know live music sounds completely different from studio recordings. Studio recording flattens things out (especially with the loudness wars), but I don’t think I’ve ever heard quite as dramatic a difference between a band’s studio recordings and their live performances as I did with Faun. Their melodies have a depth and complexity that I couldn’t really appreciate before, and oh man did it make for a fantastic show.
Even my Handsome Assistant, for whom Faun would not be his first choice, admitted that it was probably the best live show he’d heard.
Remember a few days ago, when I wrote about the chants workshop at the Mabon camping trip? Specifically, how the resonance of the chants themselves had profound impacts on the chanters? It was like that. Skin-tingling, heart-pumping, literally entrancing music.
The between song banter was also funny and clever. Oliver s. Tyr gave cultural and historical context for songs, interspersed with jokes and bits of mythology.
Singer Laura Fella didn’t appear on this tour. (She very recently had a baby, so congratulations to her and her family!) This meant that they weren’t able to perform some of their songs that rely on having both her andAdaya, so they played a few of their older songs instead.
The show closed with Hymn to Pan, which seemed like the perfect ending — I used to have it on a sleep/relaxation playlist, and I love listening to it to unwind. It was also beautiful to hear the entire venue sing the chorus. Literally the best choice of encore.
This was the first opportunity I’ve had to see Faun live, and I’m so happy I did. It was an incredible show. Even though getting there involved an hour’s drive each way after a long workday, both my Handsome Assistant and I left feeling happy and energized.
Some kind souls on Spotify have also made playlists of Faun’s 2024 setlist. While they aren’t completely accurate to what the band played Wednesday night, they’re still very good listening and a wonderful introduction to Faun’s work.
Every Saturday, Smile Herb Shop hosts drumming lessons taught by musician Nana Frimpong. It’s something that I’ve wanted to go to ever since I first found out about it, but never had the opportunity — Smile is pretty far from where we live now, and Saturdays are often one of the few opportunities that we have to take care of things that need attention. So, when we realized we wouldn’t be able to go camping like we originally hoped to, it seemed like a good time to finally sign up.
Initially, I felt self-conscious — my Handsome Assistant and I were the first to show up to the class, so it was only Nana and us for some time. Fortunately, Nana is a very welcoming, friendly, and engaging teacher. In between teaching drumming, he played songs for us while we did hand stretches, told us about his family and childhood in Ghana, and showed us how music had shaped his life to make him the person he is today. His message was radically inclusive, using drumming and music as a uniting force across all people and all cultures. Not only was the class really enjoyable, it was deeply moving.
Being there brought up a lot of memories for me, too. Being a little kid at Powwows, listening to the heartbeat drum and dancing with my friends. Being older, going to local burns, learning to fire spin and dancing around the burning wicker man to the sound of drums. Even this past Beltane, when I sat with a group of very welcoming strangers and drummed for the maypole dancers. Drums have been integral to so many unifying, joyful experiences in my life. As it turns out, I really, really missed that.
Gradually, more people filtered into the class. They brought their own drums. One person very generously offered snacks. Another, equally generous, recorded the music we were making on his phone. I had never met any of these people, some didn’t even live in the same state as I do. But there’s something really unifying about playing together. Making the same motions at the same time. Hearing the voices of each different drum come together in one song.
Most of all, it’s fun. “Fun” seems like a silly way to put it, but I don’t have a better word. It’s fun to make something beautiful with strangers, in a way that cuts to the bone through all the pretenses we dress ourselves in. It’s fun in a way that makes those other things not matter.
Next weekend, Nana will be hosting an outdoor concert as part of his drumming classes at Smile to celebrate his birthday. Slots in his classes are very inexpensive on Eventbrite — only about $11. If you’re interested in drumming for fun, to increase your musical abilities, or for healing, I definitely recommend attending.
Remember when I said I couldn’t maypole dance because my ankle’s still janky (a jankle, if you will) and so I had to pick my battles? This is what I meant.
Sunday, my Handsome Assistant and I got to see Korpiklaani. They were part of a lineup of bands that were mostly symphonic metal — Foretoken, a local band from Virginia; Illumishade, formed by some members of Eluveitie; and Visions of Atlantis, which I wasn’t familiar with but, if I had to describe them, I’d probably say “what would happen if Nightwish got really into seafaring.”
Also, also, also! As we were pulling up to the parking garage, we passed within a few feet of Jonne Järvelä. I waved and smiled, he waved and smiled back, I had an embarrassing fan nerd moment in the car in front of my Handsome Assistant, it was rad. (I didn’t stop, get out of the car, or try to actually talk to him or anything, of course. Man was taking a break, and I definitely didn’t want to be rude or make a nuisance of myself. It was just a brief gesture of, “Hello! I am super excited about what you are about to do,” and it was cool to get a smile and wave back.)
The show started on time, which kind of amazed me. I don’t think I’ve ever been to a concert that actually started when it said it was going to before. There wasn’t a lot of downtime between bands, either.
All of the bands were enjoyable — Visions of Atlantis, in particular, was a lot of fun — but Korpiklaani brought the house down. Since my motion was somewhat limited and it’s still a bit challenging to put weight on my ankle for too long, I had to stay by the railing. Even so, I danced enough that I accidentally butt-donated (or, I guess, leg-donated) to the Share the Meal app. Multiple times. With a working ankle, I probably could’ve solved world hunger and gone devastatingly and irreversibly into debt. My Handsome Assistant, on the other hand, went into the pit to dance.
There wasn’t a lot of banter or downtime between songs. As soon as Korpiklaani got on stage, they kept the energy up the whole time. It was sometimes hard to hear Jonne Järvelä singing, but I think this was a mic issue and it wasn’t exclusive to them.
Honestly, this was one of my bucket list items. I’ve got a pretty long list of bands that I need to see either before I die, or they stop touring. Korpiklaani absolutely lived up to and surpassed my expectations. I had a fantastic time.
Some kind soul has also made a Spotify playlist of Korpiklaani’s setlist, if you’d like to know it. I’ve been listening to it pretty much on repeat ever since.
If you get the chance to see them live, do it. It’s absolutely worth it.
So, I use Spotify a bunch. I tried YouTube Music and wasn’t super into it, and I used to be into Pandora, until I wasn’t. As a result, Spotify likes to send me alerts about nearby events featuring artists that I follow. I have a very generous definition of “nearby,” however.
Anyhow, Elvenking is one of my favorite folk metal bands. I don’t think they have a single CD that I feel like I need to skip any tracks on. Every one’s a banger. Unfortunately, like many of my other favorite bands, they’re not from the US and so opportunities to see them are a bit thin on the ground. From what I gather, the last time they were anywhere in the US was sixteenyears ago.
Imagine my surprise and delight when I discovered that they’d be playing in Pittsburgh, a mere three and a half hours away! (Like I said. Very generous definition of “nearby.”) Since I have no idea when I’d have the chance to see them again, I was stoked as hell.
And… then I realized that they were one of the opening bands for Alestorm.
Don’t get me wrong, I did enjoy Alestorm. I’m not above pirate metal and their songs are genuinely fun. What went on behind the songs wasn’t. While Chris Bowes issued an apology, the article I linked points out a few things that seemed… hinky. Apologizing after the fact, because you got caught, also isn’t the same as shutting down disgusting (and, honestly, creepy) behavior in the moment. It’s also goofy as hell to try to pass that kind of thing off as a joke, also after the fact. I’ve laughed at jokes in poor taste before. Hell, I’ve told jokes in poor taste before. But what the hell, man. This wasn’t humor, this was a bunch of middle-aged dudes being gross, racist weirdoes. Would the fans they were talking about think it was funny?
This isn’t to suggest that I think that Chris Bowes or the other members of Alestorm and Gloryhammer should publicly flog themselves. If other people are satisfied with the apology, or unbothered by the behavior that warranted it, that’s up to them. It did sour my enjoyment of music I once liked — way too much to be able to go, “eh, screw it,” hold my nose, and buy the tickets.
So now I’m left wondering what else to do. I have no reason to believe Elvenking endorses racism or misogyny. I don’t know if the members of Elvenking even know about what happened, or how much power they have in this situation. I don’t want to pay to see Alestorm, but I want to support Elvenking and show that there’s interest in them coming back to the US on their own.
As things are now, I’m going to give this show a pass, as much as it sucks to do. Bands make more money through merch anyway, so at least there are more efficient ways to support them than going to shows.
If we have our deck redone and the pergola up in time, maybe the Handsome Assistant and I’ll have a listening party when Elvenking’s next album drops. We’ve got the space and plenty of homemade mead. We’ll see.
I’m still feeling pretty salty at the moment, though.
This past Saturday, my Handsome Assistant and I attended Raven’s Night at The Birchmere. It was kind of a spur-of-the-moment thing — when I’ve got downtime, I crack open the websites for some local theaters and concert venues, send my Assistant whatever looks interesting, and we get tickets more or less at random. (It’s how we ended up going to a late-night showing of Inu-Oh and getting pretty much the entire theater to ourselves.)
And so, we found ourselves at a theatrical Halloween belly dance show. To our chagrin, we arrived too late for the magic show, carnival, costume contest, and tarot readers, but we did get there in time for the dancing itself. I ended up talking to a very lovely woman about gemstones for a bit before we sat down, then my Handsome Assistant and I ordered some drinks and found a seat off to the right side of the venue, near the wall. With just a few minutes to go before the show started, I excused myself to sneak to the restroom.
Here’s the part where I should explain that, even though we didn’t arrive in time for the costume contest, I still dressed up. It wasn’t much of a costume — a cashmere and silk paisley caftan, a shawl in a different paisley, and a feathered mask of a deer skull from Higgins Creek. (Which, by the way? Perfect for occasions like this. It can double as a mask or hat and is equally comfortable either way. Move it out of the way to drink or see better, and slip it back into place when need be. Like I said, perfect.)
Anyhow. I slip out of the seating area to the one place where I knew there was a restroom — the other side of the venue. I was maybe halfway there when I heard a voice behind me.
“CREATURE!”
I couldn’t really make it out, though, and also I was in a venue full of people in costumes.
“ANTLERED CREATURE!”
Oh.
“WHERE ARE YOU GOING?”
I returned to the direction of the voice, where a very nice security person pointed out that there were restrooms right next to the seating area. Right under a large red sign marked “Restrooms,” in fact. Whoops. (Side note, masks are also excellent for navigating socially awkward situations.)
The show itself was an excellent time. The highlights, for me, were almost too numerous to name. There was a beautiful performance by Taschen*. Another mesmerizing allegorical depiction of prudence by Irina Akulenko*, Han Chen*, and Stephanie Cheng*, with costumes and movements that seemed almost reptilian. They started fully veiled, slowly raising their veils to show three faces each — one mask for the past, one for the future, and their own faces for the present. (After a point, it was almost impossible to tell which face was the “true” one.) Raqs al Taneen gave a gorgeous, gender-bending interpretation of what would’ve happened if Sarah had never escaped the Labyrinth. Morgana blended dance, animal mimicry, and martial arts in a dance that seemed half theater, half ritual. Spirit of Ma’at* was a high energy celebration. There was sword dancing, drag, costume transformations, erotic poetry, and some really unique and interesting sound design.
(*Unfortunately, searching did not yield websites or social media profiles for these performers. If you happen to know if they have web presences I can link to, please let me know.)
Like I said, it was a good time. Parts of it reminded me of reading about Aleister Crowley’s theatrical rituals (for which he actually received reviews from theater critics). Some performances adhered more to the masquerade theme than others, but all of them brought their own stories to tell through costume, music, and movement.
As it gets colder, my Handsome Assistant and keep busy. We just shift away from camping and fairs and move indoors. All told, Raven’s Night was a hell of a way to kick off our autumn and winter activities.
Note: Nobody paid me or otherwise compensated me for this. I just really like Alex Dav’s music.Notice me, senpai.
I need background music.
Music, lighting, and scents are the most effective ways to set a vibe, to me. I can be in a parking garage, but if there’s some chill music playing, the faint scent of incense wafting on the air, and patches of a nice, peachy-colored sunset kind of sliding in between the concrete pillars, it’s nice. Cozy. Meditative.
All of the songs feature a hang (also called hang drum), guitar, kalimba, piano, variety of drums, and more. Most, if not all, are tuned to a frequency of 432 Hz.
432 Hz is regarded as a “healing frequency.” Meditating to it is said to produce deeper states of relaxation. Doing so before bed may even improve sleep quality. Some also credit it with helping to release energetic blockages within the body.
While this all sounds very unscientific, there is a little bit of research to back it up. A double-blind cross-over study comparing listening sessions involving music at 440 Hz and 432 Hz had some very interesting results: The study participants experienced a slight decrease in blood pressure values (although not significant), a marked decrease in heart rate, and a slight decrease of respiratory rate values when listening to 432 Hz versus 440 Hz. These values do point to a greater state of relaxation. Subjectively, researchers also noted that “[t]he subjects were more focused about listening to music and more generally satisfied after the sessions in which they listened to 432 Hz tuned music.”
I use it for meditation, divination, maintaining a relaxed atmosphere at home, and just as background sound. It’s at once organic and ethereal, earthy and dreamlike. Personally, even as just background music, I feel like it helps me be more relaxed and creative. It’s even what inspired me to pick up a (smaller, less fancy) tongue drum.
If you’d like something that you can just turn on and go about your day, Alex Dav’s YouTube channel also has multiple live streams that are just music, all day long. If you want sleep music, there are some tracks that subtly loop for 12 hours. I highly recommend them!
I had a psychiatry appointment on Sunday. This happens once every six to nine months or so, and would totally unremarkable were it not for the fact that I had it it in the vestibule of The Birchmere. I’d screwed up my scheduling, and didn’t realize it before it was too late to reschedule or cancel my doctor’s appointment. Fortunately, it was telehealth, so the entire thing pretty much went like, “Hi! I’msosorryIhaveaschedulingconflictIdidn’tmeantoeverything’sgoodandalsoIincreasedmydosageofsertraline!” Fortunately, my psychiatrist saw the physical evidence of my being out of the house as an additional sign that my panic disorder was still under control, and the call didn’t need to take long.
And so, luckily, I was done with the appointment and able to dash back into my seat before Gaelic Storm took the stage.
I knew they’d be fun to see, but I had no idea just how fun. The songs, the banter between them, even the images on the screen behind the stage (especially the donkey race) — it all came together in an atmosphere of warmth, laughter, clapping, and glass-raising.
This was also the exit of their extremely talented fiddle player, Katie Grennan, and the introduction of the also very talented Natalia (or Natalya, I haven’t been able to find her full name). The band switched fiddle players in mid song, then the fiddle player switched fiddles, as smoothly as you please.
Honestly, as much as I love Gaelic Storm’s recorded songs, I was blown away listening to them live. Pretty much every band member is a multi-instrumentalist (their percussionist, Ryan Lacey, was incredible). Their whole set was energetic, and every song was filled with complex melodies that interwove even as the musicians traded one instrument for another.
Music transcends any language. Even when we were growing up and listening to Western rock bands, to this day I still don’t understand some of my favorite songs. But [through] the music, the rhythm and the tune and the way it’s delivered… It’s something special. You’re able to ‘understand’ everything because you feel it.Â
Gala (Galbadrakh Tsendbaatar), in an interview with Louder
I don’t remember how I first learned about The Hu. When I write or paint, I often end up putting a song on, then letting whatever algorithm is currently spying on me keep recommending things. I remember being captivated by Wolf Totem, and put their songs on heavy rotation afterward.
This past Monday, my partner and I finally got to see them in concert. It was at Warren Theater, which isn’t quite what you’d picture when you think of a metal show (think lots of seats, chandeliers, ceiling medallions, you get the picture). I thought the seats might get in the way of moving around. I did not allow them to.
The band was fantastic. The energy was contagious. The crowd was enthusiastic and friendly. (The guy sitting behind us photobombed us in a hilarious way, and I almost regret laughing so hard because the shot ended up blurry.) And the music. It’s hard to describe the fusion of traditional Mongolian instruments and throat singing with metal in a way that does it justice. I could write about it for what feels like forever, but, as the old quote goes, “writing about music is like dancing about architecture.”
This is what modern bardic tradition should feel like. It feels like the kind of power old stories talk about when they speak of bards that could strike a person down with a verse.
I barely know a few words in Mongolian. If a song interests me, I need to look up a translation, and a romanization so I can at least try to approximate the pronunciation. It doesn’t matter, I still try. My lack of linguistic skills meant that I couldn’t know any of Jaya’s between-song banter. It didn’t matter, I cheered with my fists in the air anyway.
This was easily one of the most fun shows I’ve been to in ages. If you have the opportunity to see The Hu, take it.
Marble Crow 