Lioness ([info]elisem) wrote,
@ 2006-03-14 11:04:00
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Womyn's Music: memory and dreams festival
(This grows out of the previous post. Let's build an imaginary women's music festival. Invent whatever stages you need, put performers on them and build them a set list; feel free to create any collaborations your heart or curiosity desires. If the term "womyn's music" is unfamiliar to you, it's referring to a particular genre/time of music in North America, so yeah, there's probably a theme to what we're doing here. Probably several, actually, but we can look at those later. For now, let's just make stuff up and build a festival. And sure, you can add in time-travel, or include more recent performers who don't use the label but who in your opinion fit well there. So, on we go.)

You arrive at the WMMF (we need a better name; somebody please build one?) on a morning of light showers; as you come through the gate, the rain stops. By the time you've gotten to where you can see the music stages, the sun's out. It looks like it will be nice day.

Over at an electric-music stage, you see and hear Tret Fure. She's playing "Terminal Hold." From one of the other stages you hear Ferron playing "Testimony."

As you go toward the music, you pass someone who looks familiar. You're ten steps past when you realize it's Alix Dobkin.

(OK, that's my start. Go for it. Feel free to make branching narratives, too.)

P.S. Feel free to change history, rewrite songs, invent what you wish had been there, what you wish would be there now. Make stuff up. Make it like it could have been, or like it wasn't, or like it was, or even like you feared it would be. (I love [info]misia's tent full of [.....], for instance.) If you weren't let in, or wouldn't be, go ahead and write yourself in. Take your friends. Heck, Warren Zevon is playing a piano duet with Cris Williamson on one of the stages. We'll see where this takes us. Also, it's not specific to Michigan or to any particular festival; this one's imaginary. And we need a name. Suggestions may be emailed to me (elise at lioness dot net) or left here. Thanks!


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[info]dichroic
2006-03-14 05:34 pm UTC (link)
As she finishes Testimony, Ferron spots the members of Sweet Honey in the Rock sitting on the grass near the stage. She beckons them up on stage and they all begin to sing together: "Step by step the longest march / Can be done / Can be done". They get the audience singing the melody and jam around it.

On a small stage off to the side, there are the musicians you haven't heard for years, the ones who mostly play local gigs. Mary Zikos and Debby McClatchy from the East Coast, for two.

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[info]matociquala
2006-03-14 06:43 pm UTC (link)
Nancy Tucker would be just finishing up on the comedy stage, while Kate Clinton hangs around in the wings, looking for a couple of spare seconds in which to prep the ASL interpreter.

Meanwhile, a sudden cloudburst sends dozens of shirtless women clambering up to the stage to dump the water from the tents before they crash down on everybody's heads. Somebody sits down in the mud and cries, more from exhaustion and protein starvation than anything else.

Over by the chemical-free campground, a rugby game is breaking out. Along with an argument as to whether Twinkies may be considered "appropriate" to be consumed in the chem-free zone. The nays are winning. The Twinkie-lover stands just outside the ropes and defiantly consumes her prize.

One of the security guards looks hungry.

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[info]misia
2006-03-14 05:37 pm UTC (link)
On the horizon, you see a low circular tent made of black wool, but with a sky-blue top keep the sun from making it into an oven. The woolen walls are good sound absorbers so you can't hear anything going on inside, and the door flap hangs down, barring the door to interlopers. Curious about what's going on in this mysterious hut, you stand and watch a bit, noticing the way that every few moments another woman materializes near the entrance -- just sort of slides out of the passing parade of womyn-on-the-hoof without ceremony and stands there for a moment, whispering at the door before she slips inside.

Fascinated, you get a little closer. Who are these women? What are they saying? What are they DOING in there? You have the feeling you shouldn't let yourself be seen, so you are careful to stand at oblique angles, that you have a newspaper in front of your face, that you're chatting with an acquaintance that was walking by.

Another woman is at the doorflap of the tent. Oh my god, it's Christine! The one who broke up with you to go back to her macrobiotic ex! A moment or two later it's Adriana, and the faint smile of fond reminiscence springs to your lips only to be erased a half-second later when you recall how bitter the split was. Your stomach starts to burn a bit with nerves, and you think about maybe just calling it a day and heading over the hill to where you can hear the drum circle pounding it out, but you stay there in spite of yourself. Watching, waiting.

Holy shit! It's Helen! Remembering the bleak depths of lesbian bed death and the embarrassingly nine-month couple's-therapy breakup that followed, leaving you more processed than Velveeta, you stifle the instinctive urge to disappear. "Filling up and spilling over my big fat dyke ass," you mumble under your breath, "they're having a consciousness-raising session of ALL MY EX-LOVERS IN THERE!"

You begin to run, stifling the urge to go end it all by sneaking into the kitchen area and engineering a tragic nut loaf accident....


(Sorry, but it's always what *I* imagine happening when I think of WMMF.)

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[info]pantryslut
2006-03-14 06:01 pm UTC (link)
That's OK, I hit "it's Alix Dobkin" and I immedately thought, "I punch her in the mouth."

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[info]matociquala
2006-03-14 06:31 pm UTC (link)
I made a baked apple for Rhiannon in a campfire once at about two in the morning. I was twelve. If you all come by after the stages close down, I can make baked apples for you, too.

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[info]skipper_dee
2006-03-15 08:27 pm UTC (link)
Oh dear, oh dear. There are so many reasons I love you, babe, but things like this seriously top the list.

(still trying to breathe again)

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[info]mechaieh
2006-03-14 05:45 pm UTC (link)
Lagging a bit behind my friends, I'm still sleepy and not yet feeling really sociable when I notice there's no line yet at the booth where one can get one's hands henna'd. I think, good: a place to sit still and yet not seem too remote.

As I slowly meander through the binder of designs, the artist's daughter pops a CD into the boom box next to her. It's Ofra Haza singing Elo Hi (Kol Haneshema), and as her voice soars into its haunting refrain ("God, give strength to everyone"), it twines with the distant cadence of a singer I don't recognize covering Dar Williams's "If I Wrote You."

And suddenly the morning seems both so bright and lovely it almost hurts.

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[info]dichroic
2006-03-14 06:30 pm UTC (link)
Ofra Haza is on the schedule, too, at the Singers of Faith showcase. Debbie Friedman is on it, and [my story breaks here because I simply don't know the equivalent singers from other traditions so if you do please insert appropriate names here], and there is a buzz in the air at the showcase, a real sense of taking back faith, of escaping the idea that fervent religion includes only the old patriarchal traditions. Women of all faiths dance together, and teach each other, and the singing goes on long after the scheduled showcase has ended.

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[info]kightp
2006-03-14 06:52 pm UTC (link)
Over there, under that tree? Lisa Vogel and Sarah McLachlan, holding an impromptu, cross-generation confab about what it takes to organize and produce a womyn's music festival. They're grinning and laughing and obviously having a helluva time. You stroll past, not wanting to interrupt or look like a fawning fangrrl, but casting your most dazzling "thank you for existing" smile in their direction.

They smile back, and you keep walking, drawn by the sounds of the World Music stage, where Marie Daulne's soaring vocals front the rich, Afro-inspired soul of Zap Mama. Waiting to go on, her dark hair braided with the ribbons of her Zapotec/Mixtec heritage and looking more than a little like a young Frida Kahlo is Lila Downs; Susheela Raman is leaning against a fence, doing some warm-up stretches while the Mahotella Queens swap stories with Aretha Franklin, who's stopped by on her way to the Queens of Soul stage...

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[info]kate_schaefer
2006-03-14 07:18 pm UTC (link)
In my imaginary womyn's music festival, when someone starts singing, "Take Back the Night," I don't have to run away with my hands over my ears to keep from crying, because in the "run, Susan, run" part, she runs fast enough, or turns around and decks him, or something.

Oh, look. There's Robin Flower jamming with Ellen McIlwaine, and Avedon Carol singing duets with Sirani Avedis, and Cris Williamson playing piano duets with Warren Zevon. Now there's someone who really never got women's issues, but could he ever write a tune that you could sing along and improvise harmonies to, and did he for sure comprehend pain and longing.

Not memory; something more related to the fantasy baseball league.

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[info]elisem
2006-03-14 09:31 pm UTC (link)
Not memory; something more related to the fantasy baseball league.

Exactly! Go for it.

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[info]elisem
2006-03-14 09:40 pm UTC (link)
Me, I'm listening to the end of a set by Ani DiFranco. In a few minutes I am going to stroll over to the tent where people are getting garlands of flowers ready for the ceremony honoring transwomen tonight at the mainstage.

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[info]shadowriderhope
2006-03-15 12:24 am UTC (link)
Amen to that! :)

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[info]dichroic
2006-03-14 10:43 pm UTC (link)
And we need a name.

How about one borrowed from Charles de Lint, who would probably be happy to name such a festival: "Memory and Dreams".

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[info]vassilissa
2006-03-15 03:14 am UTC (link)
Of course, you don't need to have a uterus to enter this festival. But because this festival is mindful of history, you can visit a tent of transfolk and their allies making origami reproductive organs for one and all. See the brightly-coloured uteruses lined up on a blanket, with their little paper horns.

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[info]rushthatspeaks
2006-03-15 06:08 am UTC (link)
Crocheted uteruses are further down, and not free, but cheap: you can get a handbag. You can get a hat. Proceeds go to an anti-FGM association. There's a stack of yarn in a tent behind the sale booth, all soft, bright, fluffy reds and oranges and yellows, and a woman whose picture is probably in the dictionary under 'great-aunt' is helping passersby learn to hook things and knot things and make that complicated little ridge around the opening of the cervix. A couple of members of Tribe 8, whose set isn't until evening, are struggling with getting started; a couple of others, who secretly knit, are assisting the tutor.

The hats look rather like peculiarly-shaped strawberries, when you've got them on, and it's a bit hot out for it anyhow, but it's the thought that counts, isn't it, and the thought is, dude, uterus hat.

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[info]vassilissa
2006-03-15 02:39 pm UTC (link)
Dude, uterus hat. *nods emphatically*

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[info]elisem
2006-03-15 07:51 pm UTC (link)
Definitely!
Dude, uterus hat.
*nods emphatically*

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