![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
Contrapositive
Nov. 6th, 2004 01:14 amSure-fire cure for election ennui: rock the house with your guitar, baby. Throwing the secret devil sign to make your girlfriend giggle helps, too.
I played my first contra tonight, for a student-run dance in the Oberlin Conservatory. It was open band, and there were maybe 6-9 of us playing at any given time: accordian (Elvie, who organized the thing), piano, bassoon (!), a couple of fiddles, a cello for a while, and two guitars. It was three hours of high-energy, up-tempo, muddy, glorious fun.
The guitarists were me and a fellow from Cleveland State named Jeff with a 12-string, and I must say we kicked some ass. He deferred to me, I think, which made me feel like I'd gained some credibility these last few years. (He also asked if I was in a band. Heh.) The accordianist turned to watch me a couple of times, so we could play off each other, and we had a few of those moments when your eyes meet another musician's and you both smile because the music is lifting you, pulling you along with it. I got tired after a couple of hours—tempos were quick, talkthroughs were fast, and there are no strathspeys in contra—but I kept pace with the kids straight through, and sounded about as strong on the last tune as I did on the first. I even managed to focus on the music in the face of distraction—namely, the young women who seemed to be in constant danger of popping out of their dresses as they danced. Kids today, I tell you.
Contra music is like a bastard hybrid of English and Scottish. The tunes are repeated over and over like in English, but there's usually a set of two or three tunes that are played 1-1-1-1-1-1-2-2-2-2-2-2-3-3-3-3-3-3 (or whatever). It's very freeform; the tune shifts when the leader feels it should, and the sets are put together on the fly. That took some getting used to, but I caught on—and I think I enjoy it, since it gives me a chance to get into a groove on one song, and then we move on before I get bored with it.
Oh, and we played a tune called Nail the Catfish to the Tree, which is just too cool.
Now, my thumb-knuckle is scraped up from hitting the strings, and my right arm has invisible bands of lead attached to it somehow, but I'm pretty elated. This happens every month, they tell me. Hooray.
I played my first contra tonight, for a student-run dance in the Oberlin Conservatory. It was open band, and there were maybe 6-9 of us playing at any given time: accordian (Elvie, who organized the thing), piano, bassoon (!), a couple of fiddles, a cello for a while, and two guitars. It was three hours of high-energy, up-tempo, muddy, glorious fun.
The guitarists were me and a fellow from Cleveland State named Jeff with a 12-string, and I must say we kicked some ass. He deferred to me, I think, which made me feel like I'd gained some credibility these last few years. (He also asked if I was in a band. Heh.) The accordianist turned to watch me a couple of times, so we could play off each other, and we had a few of those moments when your eyes meet another musician's and you both smile because the music is lifting you, pulling you along with it. I got tired after a couple of hours—tempos were quick, talkthroughs were fast, and there are no strathspeys in contra—but I kept pace with the kids straight through, and sounded about as strong on the last tune as I did on the first. I even managed to focus on the music in the face of distraction—namely, the young women who seemed to be in constant danger of popping out of their dresses as they danced. Kids today, I tell you.
Contra music is like a bastard hybrid of English and Scottish. The tunes are repeated over and over like in English, but there's usually a set of two or three tunes that are played 1-1-1-1-1-1-2-2-2-2-2-2-3-3-3-3-3-3 (or whatever). It's very freeform; the tune shifts when the leader feels it should, and the sets are put together on the fly. That took some getting used to, but I caught on—and I think I enjoy it, since it gives me a chance to get into a groove on one song, and then we move on before I get bored with it.
Oh, and we played a tune called Nail the Catfish to the Tree, which is just too cool.
Now, my thumb-knuckle is scraped up from hitting the strings, and my right arm has invisible bands of lead attached to it somehow, but I'm pretty elated. This happens every month, they tell me. Hooray.
