06-29-2008, 09:03 PM
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#5 (permalink) |
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Hall of Famer
Join Date: Nov 2006
Location: South Texas
Posts: 7,714
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I have had two personal experiences in which I would dearly love to have a recording of amaterus that I heard singing. One was in Ecuador, at a little jungle town where a few concessionaires take people on jungle tours. It was a holiday weekend, and an extended family or two from Guayaquil was there---maybe 6 or 8 adults and some kids. After dark, their last night there, they started singing some old Ecuadorean songs among themselves on the hotel lawn, they way girls do when they get together. I think maybe they were sisters, whose families sing in a church choir or something, because their voices together were absolutely heavenly. I can't remember if somebody had a guitar along, or they were a capella, but I was absolutely transfixed listening them for an hour or so as they drifted from one beautiful old song to another.
In Paraguay, I was riding a night bus into the Chaco, and someone had a guitar along. After an hour or two, a very bashful middle-aged gaucho asked sheepishley if he could look at the guitar. He plucked a couple of chords, quietly, and listened, and started to hum along a bit. As he warmed up and realized he was not overstepping any bus etiquette, he started to accompany himself on some old gaucho songs he knew. He had an absolutely beautiful voice, complete mastery of the guitar, and the entire bus was totally transported listening to this guy softely crooning to himself in the darkness, creeping up from behind and stadning in the aisle where they could hear better over the road noise. I would give my left arm to have recordings of these two musical experiences.
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------------------ When people ask what I hope to see before I die, I answer that I've already seen too much. |
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06-30-2008, 06:36 AM
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#6 (permalink) |
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Veteran Member
Join Date: Feb 2007
Location: England
Posts: 1,059
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I don't do utube I have better things to do
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On a dusty pew in a vestibule Sits the Devil playing pocket pool He's waiting for the next poor fool Who forgot that it was Sunday John Prine |
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