I very much enjoyed being at the Ohio Valley Filk Festival yesterday.
I listened to lots of wonderful songs and heard some performs I’d never heard before. I also bought Cat Faber’s latest CD (available at Cat Faber’s bandcamp page), which, for reasons unknown, my lap-top took exception to and I ended up having to load the tracks onto another computer, burn a new CD, and then feed that CD to my laptop. Go figure. Ah, well. The extra effort was undoubtedly worth it for the first track alone, let alone for the whole album.
I went to the convention planning to relax and enjoy and listen, so I didn’t bring any songbooks or instruments. But although I didn’t sing any songs, the manner in which I spent the stretch of time from when the awards banquet started to when the open filk got going, reminds me of a Phyllis McGinley poem I learned as a teen. “It isn’t that I want to hear My voice assaulting every ear, Uprising loud and firm and clear Above the cocktail clatter. It’s simply, once a doorbells’ rung, (I’ve been like this since I was young) Some madness overtakes my tongue And I begin to chatter.”
I think maybe next time I should try reverse this year’s performance: actually sing some of my songs, but not talk anyone’s ear off in the consuite.