Okay, my time in Dawson was more judiciously spent on Saturday. I saw some performers play music that I probably wouldn’t have in my car–the only time I would ever willingly listen to a recording of Franco-Klezmer act Gadji Gadjo would be while scanning through the music stations on an Air Canada flight–but when it was performed live in front of a multitude of appreciative northerners, I succumbed easily. The Dawson City Music Festival, which seems to book acts that are uniformly free of attitude, has been full of these moments.
In the afternoon, we watched a workshop entitled Siren Songs, a set by some of the festival’s female musicians, in St. Paul’s, an Anglican Church built in 1902 that smells like a big antique cabinet.
This was followed by another workshop entitled Banjo Vs. Fiddle. Here’s Terry Joe, playing in a traditional “frailing” style, a Roadrunner-fast tune at the Danoja Zho cultural centre, that included a snippet of “Ode to Joy” and ended shortly after his instrument went completely out of tune. It was amazing:
The day of music was broke up by a two-hour paddlewheel boat ride aboard the Klondike Spirit on the north-flowing Yukon River. Before the highway was built in the middle of last century, the river was crowded with steam boats transporting goods and people.
Here’s our guide, in Gold Rush-era garb, reviewing safety protocol. I think she should be paid extra for having to dress like a fundamentalist Mormon:
Over dinner, I was talking to Michelle about the challenges of rock photography, especially the indie-rock sub-species. “Don’t you get sick of photographing white dudes in beards wearing plaid shirts?” I asked her. “Why take pictures of people who try so studiously to look nondescript?” She suggested that the trick of it was to capture the right expression.
This led me to think of something I saw a lot of on this trip, “banjo face.” As we all know, guitar face is the expression of deep concentration and ecstasy that lead guitarists make that often look like faces people make when passing their bowels or having sexy time. With the Yukon’s pioneer traditions and its love of roots music, the banjo seems to be the official instrument of the territory and banjo face is highly prevalent. The banjo is a less showy instrument than the lead electric guitar; it keeps the rhythm rather than dance on top of it. If the guitarist often looks like he’s doing some indecent, the banjo player wears the face of someone who’s done their taxes a week before their deadline:
That’s a shot of Headwater. Although they’re based in Vancouver, Headwater played a kind of roots music that fits well with Yukon’s music scene. It lovingly recalls the bluegrass tradition without any airless formalism. Here’s some mandolin face:
While the skies were clear and blue on Friday, smoke from a forest fire up river blanketed the town Saturday morning. By the afternoon, it started raining:
Normally when I hear music from Francophone Quebeckers, I understand why they want to separate. Gadji Gadjo were unexpectedly (at least to me) delightful:
Spencer Krug of Sunset Rubdown stepped onstage a little after one a.m. I didn’t make it to the end of his set before turning in:
I lost track of Michelle during Sunset Rubdown. Here’s an enigmatic shot of her night afterwards:
Photos by Michelle Mayne.
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