Fiddles, pipes, and guitars—oh my!

Today's sole activity was attending the New World Festival, which offers a whopping 12 hours of music for just $25—a bargain no matter how you slice it! So after we "did our farm chores" (i.e., followed Jinny around as she watered and fed the fowl, all the while telling us about the heritage breeds she had chosen and answering our many questions), we headed about 20 minutes away to Randolph.

The town of Randolph was all but consumed by the festival. We traded our ticket voucher for hip green bracelets around 11:30 am (a half-hour before the first show was scheduled to begin), then walked down the street to find coffee. We soon came back to check out the fun stuff for sale, bought T-shirts and cool jewelry as souvenirs, sniffed out the food offerings, and settled in for our first show. Atlantic Crossing (a Vermont band that plays local contra dances, Jinny says) played the first of many great sets we'd hear before dragging ourselves out of the dance tent just before midnight.

When all was said and done, I had enjoyed the musical prowess of 11 performers! Some of my favorites of the day were Claude Méthé (an oldie but goodie from Québec), Réveillons! and Raz-de-Marée (also from Québec), Cantrip (not Catnip!; from Edinburgh, Scotland), and Nicholas Williams.

Although all the performers were worthy of a good round of applause, the prize for the most energetic, surprising, mesmerizing, get-up-and-dance sounds came from the McDades. Three talented siblings from Edmonton, Alberta—who play fiddle, various and sundry winds, and double bass (with backup by a percussionist and a guitarist)—have created a unique blend of music that won't let you stay in your seat. Spiced with unexpected twists in instrumentation and arrangements, what might have roots in traditional music is ratcheted up to a whole new level of consciousness. What's more, they make it look effortless! The sound almost defies description, but if I had to, I'd say that the McDades sound like a traditional Canadian-Celtic band that spent a long winter drinking vodka (straight up, of course) with the famous jazz greats in Eastern Europe—or something like that.

Do link through to some of the performers' websites; you won't be sorry. Check out some of their tunes, and buy the music if you like it!

So as not to omit the other catch phrases from the trip, I'll include them here. One of the concert venues was a church that clearly had ventilation problems; even early in the day, the sanctuary was stuffy and hot. After a couple of forays in there, Ann gave it her trademark description: SMELLS LIKE ASS. (So, it didn't really smell like, um, that, but it was unpleasant enough that I avoided that venue whenever possible.)

Also, an interesting outfit (a black bodysuit and skirt with red plaid accessories—including a bra worn over the bodysuit and a sporran over the skirt) prompted Ann to create a special moniker: TARTAN TITS.

And that is all she wrote! Till we go back next year, anyway …