Under A Cajun Moon
Spent yesterday afternoon and evening at the 3rd Annual Country Jamboree, held on Ward's Island, part of the
Toronto Islands park, at the
Ward's Island Association Clubhouse. The
Clubhouse is a great old building, wood beams and trusses in the ceiling, hard-wood floor with a half-dozen old wooden church pews to one side and a stage at one end. Judging from the pictures on the walls, the place must date back to the 1910s at least. It's one of those old places that still gives off a sense of the human history that's paraded through it over the years, like it's soaked into the fibres of the woodóa history of people coming together. Of society. Of community. Of common bonds. Of sharing good will and good times. I imagine it's borne witness to countless wedding receptions and pageants and New Year's Eve celebrations and various other socials and shindigs.
So it was a perfect spot for the Country Jamboree. I'm not exactly sure who the chief organizers were, but I heard about it through an email newsletter from Dan Kershaw of the
Bros. Cosmoline. The event was from 3pm until 9pm. I arrived shortly after 4, and wandered outside where people were spread out on the lawn listening to a bluegrass trio perched on the tiny
porch, huddled around a single microphone. This was a group made up of members of the Foggy Hogtown Boys/Crazy Strings & the
Backstabbers. They sounded pretty good. I made the acquaintance of Dan Kershaw, who I had interviewed by phone when I put the Bros. Cosmoline in my
Showcase page, but I had until then never met him in person. Very nice guy. We chatted for a while about what they had been up to that summer, playing folk festivals and touring out west, where he had met
Nick Lowe, who had shared with Dan his thoughts on "the tyranny of the snare drum"; a very interesting topic, but one which we'll have to leave for another time.
Shortly after that, following a set by
the Cameron Family Singers, the review portion of the day got underway inside. This consisted of a core back-up band, which for the purposes of the Jamboree was christened Dan Kershaw's Country All Stars. It was composed of members of the Bros. Cosmoline who are also members of
the Bebop Cowboys, and I think some other band in another configuration. They were then joined by other artists who got up to sing a couple of numbers each:
John Borra and Colleen Hodgson,
Steve Ketchen, a very pregnant
Dottie Cormier (formerly of Heartbreak Hill), and
Laura Hubert (formerly of the Leslie Spit Treeo). There were more than a few Hank Williams numbers trotted out, which is fine by me, and John and Colleen did their usual kick-ass version of
Gram Parsons' "Ooh Las Vegas". Colleen then sang a song, which I think was another Gram song, but for the life of me I can't remember what it was. Ah, doesn't matter, she's just too darn cute anyway. Is she single? :-j
Later on in the evening, a duo called Ball And Chain, who I assume by the name, are husband and wife, regaled us with some fine, bluegrassy tunes and a fun song about beer, which the straw-Stetsoned, freckle-faced female half of the duo mischievously dedicated to all the little kids dancing in front of the stage, including one little boy dressed as Superman, cape and all, and a couple of little girls in over-sized Stetsons who pretty much ruled the dance floor, dosee-do-ing the entire day.
They were followed by the Cajun sounds of
Swamperella, another band I had put in my Showcase page, but this was actually the first time I had seen them play live. They were great, led by Soozi Schlanger's fiddle and Cajun banshee vocals, spinning out a set of reels and waltzes. I don't know what it is about Cajun music, but it has the ability to make me sad and happy at the same time, or at least on this day, that's how it hit me. Maybe it's some sort of ancestral memory thing—not that I'm Cajun, or even
Acadian, but I did grow up in
Acadie. Flip through the Summerside phone book, and you'll see that 3/4 of it is Gallant's and DesRoches' and Arsenault's and Gaudet's (pronounced 'Goodie') and Pineau's. Drive through western P.E.I., up past Miscouche to Tignish, and you'll see all kinds of little pink houses... and yellow and purple. I've never been to Louisiana, but something tells me that I'd recognize some familiar cultural signs. But the sense of simultaneous sadness and joy is there in the music. Like lots of other kinds of traditional music—from Celtic music to blues—
Acadian/Cajun music walks that line between celebration and sadness, between loss and
laissez les bons temps roulez. Of course, part of the great appeal of these musics is the way they draw you in and allow you to kick up your heels and forget your troubles. No small coincidence that it's the music of cultures that have had their share of sadness and tragedy. But each element is there. Maybe that's why, when they played a tandem of songs, the first of which was called, I think, "Malheureuse"(?) and the second of which was called "Le Reel de Joie" or something similar, I actually enjoyed the former, while that latter left me melancholy.
But, in fine Cajun fashion, they filled the dancefloor. (As I said in my
Showcase piece, this IS dance music). They all danced: children, elderly couples, lesbian couples, mothers and fathers twirling with giddy toddlers in their arms. Typical of the entire day, there was a palpable feeling of community and... yes, family. Might sound corny, but it was a truly beautiful thing, made even more so with Mother Nature's blessing. There was a moment while they were playing a waltz, and the setting sun, lingering just at the horizon, window-height, reached in from the veranda to paint the various waltzers on the dusky dancefloor in a warm glow of amber-gold.
The evening wrapped up with a rousing set from Atomic 7, who managed to put the bow on the whole day by transforming the old clubhouse into a rowdy barn dance. They played some originals and some well-chosen covers, including a twangy turn of
Dusty Springfield's "I Only Want To Be With You", that had everybody up dancing, heel-and-toe-ing, or at least standing on the edge of the dancefloor, shaking hips, tapping toes and head-bobbing along. Then they invited all the other performers on stage for an ensemble romp through Dylan's
"You Ain't Goin' Nowhere".
A great time. This will have to become an annual event. The end-of-summer ritual.
Night had fallen when I made my way back to the ferry for the short trip over to the city. The end of a special event, I thought to myself. But the ferry ride back would prove to be the most magical—and melancholy—part of the day. It was one of the smaller car ferries, just one level, no roof, space in the middle for a few cars; but there were no cars, just a couple dozen happy jamboreens and other island visitors on foot or with bikes. As I leaned on the wooden railing at the bow and gazed at the bright lights of the big city that loomed before me, it occurred to me that I had never seen the
skyline of Toronto at night from the islands. It looked incredible. The lights of the glass office towers, the purple glow of the Skydome, the CN Tower, and further to the west the Ferris wheel at the Exhibition grounds. Picture-perfect.
Then I heard music, and I turned around with my back to the railing to see that Soozi from Swamperella and the Ball And Chain couple had stationed themselves near the bow and had taken out their instruments to serenade us on the return voyage. They stood in a close huddle, face-to-face, Soozi and the man on fiddles and the other woman on triangle. They played Cajun tunes and sang. People gathered 'round and listened, exchanged glances and smiled. I moved closer to hear. It was a wonderful moment. Half-way across, a small airplane on the way to land at the Island Airport flew low directly over us, a shapeless apparition of blinking lights in the dark sky. Like being buzzed by a playful angel. When the boat's horn blew and it was in tune with the fiddles, no one seemed surprised.
I looked ahead to see the luminous panorama of the city skyline, then looked aft to see, floating amidst a few slashes of clouds, a
big, round, orange-yellow moon. With the music and the city lights and the moon and the warm lake breezes, I didn't know what to love more—so I just loved it all. Floating amidst such beauty, I thought to myself,
could it get any better than this?
And before I could stop it, before I could choke back the thought...
yes, said a quiet voice inside,
if you had someone to share it with.
