Luckily, the word had gotten out that Jessie couldn’t make it. I was still going to stop in at Darby’s just in case, but as it happened the night before lasted until til 6:30 am at Furlong’s, and I was still sleeping to the sound of the air conditioner at the appointed meeting time of 1 pm.
At Furlongs, talking to Paul McGrattan, the depth and power of whose playing is still creating deep, seismic ramifications in me, there was one startling conversation in which he became intensely serious. I was talking about something stupid, no doubt about myself, because I say stupid things about myself (“Hey, did you know I’m from Kalamazoo!”) in front of people who would just as soon say nothing rather than make small talk. It was about ego. Jealousy, he said, is the worst emotion a musician can have. Musicians can’t have egos, he said. Three times. It is the worst thing. I’m still trying to work out all of what that means (we all do have egos, don’t we?), but the forcefulness with which he said it made deep impression. Clearly it’s something he thinks is worth striving for. And I’ll take almost anything on faith from that great, thoughtful musician. Even the node theory.
Singing class was different. Deirdre Scanlon is a singer’s singer. When she opened the class with breathing, not singing, I knew this was going to take, shall we say, a tad bit more study than I thought. She had excellent things to say about the primacy of text, the presentation of airs, the spare use of tempi, and (I still cannot believe this), SHE GAVE AWAY HER OWN PERSONAL CD COLLECTION FOR A WEEK. Each student borrowed a different CD each day, it was that important to her for us to be exposed to different singers, and different interpretations. Off into the hands of 30 or more students, whose capacity to care for borrowed material was completely untested, went her entire CD collection, which included many recordings that are not commercially available. Incredible. She got them all back, but really, the odds! Who does that. That’s nutty.
I forgot to mention her actual singing. When she sings, there is no other interpretation. That’s how true she sounds. When other people sing, I’m scattin’ away all over the melody in my head. I get bored easily. But she has thought deeply enough about each word and each note, and sung and sung and sung, so that her solo voice is transfixing.
She lives in Chicago, 2 hours away from me. I’ve never stalked anyone before, but, really, it’s tempting.
Finally, Mary Bergin and I bonded in the bathroom of Darby’s, which has very confusing split doors on the stalls that swing both ways. It’s like the old West, I said as we struggled to squeeze through the flapping panels. On another night, she overtook me in the rain, wearing a see-through yellow rain guard over her clothes, basically a plastic bag. She’d overslept a start time for a performance at the festival grounds. A van stopped and we both climbed in and went into the festival together. So there, Guillaume. I told you, she’s my new best friend. 
Cara
), but as I’m at work I’ll have to stop here. I hope others post some of their East Durham impressions too.
I miss that guy. For some reason, MurphyStout balked at receiving Azalin’s greeting in March…
) Weekend when they are set. Previous dates: January 16-18, 2004