Vancouver Folk Music Festival

Obliquestra plays at folk fest

The accordion “has gradually and sneakily taken over my life,” says musician David Symons, member of the group Obliquestra. (photo by Stephanie Reed)

“Klezmer, choro, Tin Pan Alley, French musette, German songs, Russian waltzes, and so on” … Obliquestra plays the music they “most wanted to play after being isolated at home for so long” during the pandemic, David Symons told the Independent. The accordionist, singer and composer is one of the three members of the band who will be playing at the Vancouver Folk Music Festival, which takes place July 19-21 at Jericho Beach Park.

Symons will be joined at the festival by Dr. Sick on violin, guitar and musical saw, and Susanne Ortner on clarinet. It will be their first time performing together in Vancouver.

Obliquestra started when live music started returning in 2021, explained Symons. “Dr. Sick, who I had worked with for years in my band The Salt Wives (and one of the most unfairly talented musicians in town) called me up and said there was a new bar opening next door to his house and it would be amazingly convenient to play there every Saturday. I called Susanne Ortner, who I hadn’t played with, but who I knew was a master klezmer clarinetist, though she mainly does Brazilian choro and jazz now.”

They started playing together in Symons’ backyard with banjoist Aaron Gunn and bassist Stoo Odom, “without any concept, really,” said Symons, just playing what they wanted to play.

“I’ve sort of always had this eclectic approach,” he said. “Discreet genres of music are mostly a marketing convenience. Musicians have always played and been influenced by whatever they heard, whatever was available, and whatever the public would pay them to play. Klezmer is a good example of this, being an amalgam of various musical styles from central and eastern Europe and, later, America. I doubt those old school musikers (you wouldn’t call someone a klezmer in those days unless you were trying to get punched) were concerned with notions of ‘authenticity’ or genre. They were playing what they heard and liked, and what their public wanted to hear. We are at least doing the first part of that.”

photo - Obliquestra – Dr. Sick, left, David Symons and Susanne Ortner – play at the Vancouver Folk Music Festival on July 21 — Obliquestra – Dr. Sick, left, David Symons and Susanne Ortner – play at the Vancouver Folk Music Festival on July 21. *(photo by Stephanie Reed)*

While Symon has “gotten away from klezmer a bit these last few years, really since the pandemic started, mostly for lack of people to play it with,” he said “it’s still the music closest to my heart.”

Why that’s the case, and why he’s also been interested in Yiddish music, despite not being Jewish, is hard to put into words, he said. “In fact, if I could put it into words, maybe we wouldn’t need music. It makes me feel good?”

He said many people assume that a person is Jewish if they play klezmer, and even that it’s a strange thing for a non-Jew to do.

“I’ve always felt this attitude contains an implicit condescension toward the music,” said Symons. “It would never occur to anyone that if someone plays Rachmaninoff they must be Russian, or if they play bluegrass they must be a hillbilly, etc. The music stands on its own merits, whatever one’s ethnic background. Most of the Jewish klezmorim I have known didn’t grow up with the music any more than I did. Still, you have to be careful and respectful. I used to do a lot of Yiddish song and, though I love it, I do less of that now because I realized that, unless I am prepared to devote a few years of my life to learning the language, there’s a lot of nuance that I’m going to miss, no matter how much I work on my pronunciation.”

Symons grew up in rural New Hampshire. “My father plays Latin percussion and guitar, but my folks were divorced and I didn’t see him much, and I had very little interest in music until about 15,” he said. “I was into theatre and acting. Then, I more or less simultaneously discovered Tom Waits and classical music, particularly Beethoven, and suddenly fell in love with music.

“I played guitar for a few years, but the Waits album Frank’s Wild Years convinced me to get an accordion. This was pre-internet in rural New Hampshire, so I put an ad in the local paper asking if anyone had an accordion I could buy. It turned out a lot of people did, and I was very lucky to get something playable. Then, the accordion more or less sat around decoratively for the next couple of years until I happened to see Itzhak Perlman on David Letterman’s show with a bunch of klezmer musicians. He had just released a klezmer album with the top American klezmer bands at the time, and I became obsessed with this music and went down a deep rabbit hole for the next 25 years or so. I taught myself accordion to play klezmer, largely while working in a parking garage in Burlington, Vt., which had nice, cathedral-like acoustics.”

Symons acknowledged, “Of course, no one is truly self-taught – that just means I’ve learned a lot of little things from a lot of different people, without ever having any one teacher or mentor. As for my relationship with the accordion, the damn thing has gradually and sneakily taken over my life. They’ll tell you that you can just pick it up for fun once and awhile and put it down whenever you want, no harm done, but don’t believe them, kids! For many years, I tried to resist accordion clichés and now, in my middle age, I own not one, but two pairs of lederhosen. I started fixing accordions when I moved to New Orleans and there was no one doing it here. Twelve years later, I am sitting in a room in my home with somewhere between 40 and 50 accordions around me, in various states of functionality. The accordions have won.”

About the move to New Orleans, Symons said, “I lived in Vermont for 15 years and was ready for something new. Or, in the case of New Orleans, something old and dirty. I had spent a month in here in 2003 when I was traveling around the country busking in this tiny, ancient Toyota camper. I always thought about going back and trying to live there. Loving New Orleans is like loving a complicated, brilliant, yet self-destructive person. Someone who might be utterly charming one day and destroy a hotel bathroom the next. I still feel like an outsider here most of the time, but I’ve come to terms with that. I’m happy that I’m able to make myself useful to my fellow accordionists by keeping their instruments in working order.”

Symons and his fellow Obliquestra musicians – “Mini-Obliquestra or Obliquestrio,” as Symons quipped – play the folk festival’s South Stage July 21, 11:50 a.m.-12:40 p.m. For the weekend’s full lineup and tickets, visit thefestival.bc.ca.

Immerse yourself in music

Screenshot from the video for the song “Medicine,” made by Gigi Ben Artzi, featuring Yonatan Gat and the Eastern Medicine Singers. “Medicine” comes off Gat’s album Universalists.

You never know when a life-changing moment will happen. For musician Yonatan Gat and members of the Eastern Medicine Singers, a chance encounter at the 2017 South by Southwest (SXSW) Music Festival in Austin, Tex., has led to a unique continuing collaboration that melds experimental and powwow music in a way that is simultaneously ancient and contemporary, energizing and hypnotic.

Fans of Gat and the Medicine Singers will be happy to know they are performing at this year’s Vancouver Folk Music Festival, which runs July 14-16 at Jericho Beach Park. They will be joined by Daniel Monkman (Zoon), an experimental Anishinaabe musician from Toronto (Tkaronto), and local oud player and guitarist Gord Grdina, who also mixes multiple musical styles. For newcomers to Medicine Singers’ music, definitely go down the internet rabbit hole. Chances are that you’ll want the in-person experience, to be immersed in the sound.

The Eastern Medicine Singers are an Algonquin drum group from Rhode Island “dedicated to keeping the eastern woodlands American Indian culture alive.” They sing and drum in the language of Massachuset and Wampanoag dialect, and have produced several CDs together. To differentiate from their traditional powwow style, they call themselves Medicine Singers for collaborative projects with musicians of other traditions, like Gat. Their debut full-length album in this capacity is the self-titled Medicine Singers, which came out in 2022 on Stone Tapes, a sub-label of Joyful Noise, and Mothland in Canada.

“The result is a spellbinding musical experience, cycling through a kaleidoscope of sounds, from psychedelic punk to spiritual jazz and electronic music,” reads the description on Joyful Noise’s website. “But the genre-smashing album remains firmly rooted in the intense physical power of the powwow drum and the Medicine Singers’ connection to their ancestral music, creating a daring and ambitious record that celebrates tradition, while boldly breaking away from its restrictions or, in the words of Medicine Singers’ leader Daryl Black Eagle Jamieson: ‘These two cultures can work together, and blend together, to show people how we can work together and make something beautiful.’”

Gat is accustomed to these kinds of partnerships and musical innovation. In Israel, he was part of the punk band Monotonix. In the United States, he has released a few full-length albums, each more varied than the last, with the latest being American Quartet (Stone Tapes, 2022), described as a “punk slash-and-burn reimagining of one of the defining works of the Western classical canon – Antonín Dvořák’s legendary string quartet – written while Dvořák was, like Gat, an expatriate living in New York City.”

A good place to start your exploration of Gat and the Medicine Singers is by watching the video of the 2018 track “Medicine,” which was included on Gat’s second album, Universalists (Joyful Noise, 2018). The fruit of an impromptu recording session, this release caught a larger public’s imagination and the rest, to be cliché, is history – yet continues to be groundbreaking.

The Jewish Independent had the chance to talk with Gat via email this week.

JI: What was it about the Medicine Singers’ performance/repertoire at SXSW 2017 that so mesmerized you?

YG: I was playing a show in a club during SXSW and Eastern Medicine Singers were playing outside. I didn’t know them personally and my band were watching them outside just before we went on. I thought their style (six people powerfully hitting a drum and singing call-and-response vocals) could mesh well with my trio and, also, just like them, we played on the floor in the middle of the audience. So, after they were done playing, I invited them to sit in with us. They famously said no at first and then changed their mind after they heard our music.

Our improvisation style leaves a lot of room for new musicians to join and freely do their thing. I think Eastern Medicine Singers noticed that, too, and when they joined us – it quickly became one of the most incredible shows we’ve ever played. The audience was feeling that as well. When I looked up, I noticed everyone in the crowd was crying, and that’s how our collaboration began, and we’ve been touring nonstop around the world since 2017.

JI: In an interview, you talked about taking piano lessons as a kid and, even then, improvising. What do you love about improvising?

YG: I took piano lessons as a kid but I never cared about learning to read sheet music. I just wanted to improvise. At some point, I started playing bass, but when we did Monotonix, we wanted a trio of guitar-drums-vocals, so I moved to a 77 Fender Mustang tuned two tones down to C with bass strings running through a custom-made humbucker pickup to make it sound more low-endy. I learned to play the harmony on the open strings while doing the lead on the highs.

We played 1,000 shows that way with Monotonix and I discovered myself as a guitarist along the way. I never practised or cared about technique, but being the only instrument except drums made me work hard and grow as a player. When I started my own band, I was able to build it around improvisation, which helped me learn even more about myself as a musician and human. Improvisation doesn’t have to be confined to jazz, long solos or anything like that – it’s more a way to live life, to respond to the world around you, get to know yourself better every night.

JI: From where do you draw inspiration for your compositions?

YG: When we record, we like to create a zone that’s radically free, where it’s all about the musician’s self-expression as it relates to the collective and we just let the tapes roll and have fun with it. Our studio days are very fun and wild and free. We also record other situations – practices, soundchecks, hangs. Sometimes, we record in some of the best or most interesting studios in the world, sometimes we record on iPhones or broken tape machines someone left behind.

It doesn’t matter what it is, we just gather material (usually hours of music) and then the process of editing begins, which is when the “composition” happens. In that way, most of the writing is actually the editing. Everything else is just about having a good time and making sure every musician gets documented the way they envisioned.

JI: You have played in Vancouver before. What are you most looking forward to on this upcoming visit?

YG: I was always lucky to play inspiring shows in Vancouver. My first time in town was a wild DIY punk show in a place called Emergency Room back in ’08. People were going crazy, falling on the band (we were playing on the floor). That vibe just continued to Biltmore Cabaret, where we played so many times after that. Just a sweaty haze with everyone losing their minds and melting into one another.

The last time I was in town was for Vancouver Jazz Fest back in 2019 with Medicine Singers. That was fun. I’m not used to playing jazz fests (they probably think we’re too loud or something) but it was so cool to play to an audience that was following the instrumental parts and appreciating the playing that comes with the freedom and energy.

Vancouver Folk will be a special one for sure. We don’t often play on the floor nowadays, but Medicine Singers transcend the stage. This show really creates a kind of connection between audience and musicians I’ve never seen before. It still has all the magic we discovered in 2017, the first time we played together.

My experience working and learning from Medicine Singers led us to start a label together, Stone Tapes, which is more like a community of musicians, or a collective. I think that represents what we do in the best way possible, and I’m looking forward to coming back to Vancouver and backing Medicine Singers along with other musicians from that collective.

For the full Vancouver Folk Music Festival lineup and tickets, visit thefestival.bc.ca.

An out-of-hand hobby

Si Kahn plays at the folk festival, which runs July 13-16. (photo from sikahn.com)

While Charlotte, N.C.-based folk musician Si Kahn – who’s coming to play at the Vancouver Folk Music Festival next week – may have called the United States home for most of his 73 years, he spent about 12 of his first 16 months of life in Canada. His father, Rabbi Benjamin Kahn, was sent to Montreal by B’nai B’rith in 1944 to help set up the Hillel Foundation at McGill University, which he did for just over a year before being called back to Pennsylvania State University.

“I like to say that I don’t have a single negative memory of my time in Montreal,” said Kahn, whose father eventually became the international director of B’nai B’rith Hillel Foundation (1959-1971).

And Kahn’s Canada cred goes back further.

“After my paternal grandfather, Gabriel Kahn, deserted the czar’s army and walked across Europe, he was a pick-and-shovel labourer for the Canadian Pacific Railway, helping build the ‘northern spur’ through the [Canadian] Shield towards Timmins,” Kahn told the Independent. “He was also a hod carrier in Winnipeg, helping build the Royal Alexandra Hotel, carrying 100 pounds of bricks or mortar up 10 or more storeys on his shoulders.”

Kahn tells his grandfather’s story – and that of many other members of his family – in the musical Hope. The song “Crossing the Border” highlights the border-crossings of his grandfather’s journey from Russia: “He got passage to Nova Scotia / Got married in Manitoba … Then he moved down south of the border / By the mills on the Merrimack River / He pumped gas and kept store for a living / Raised up his daughter and sons.”

Gabriel and his wife, Celia, settled in Lowell, Mass., said Kahn, who wrote about his Jewish roots and their influence on his music in an article called “The Chords that Bind.”

“When I was growing up … our family sang together,” he writes. “On the Sabbath and on holidays, we would stay at the dinner table long after the food and dishes had been cleared, and we would sing. Because musical instruments were not allowed on the Sabbath, we sang without instrumentation – but not without accompaniment.”

From his paternal grandfather, he learned “the fine points of creating a rhythm section, using only two basic variations (closed fist and open palm) of the basic hand-on-table technique.” From his parents, he and his sister, Jenette – whose career in the comic book industry included being president of DC Comics for more than 20 years – learned “the rudiments of high and low harmony, made up as you go along.”

The songs they sang were mostly prayers. “We sang a little bit in Yiddish, too, folk and story songs from the Old Country, which in this case meant almost any place in Europe,” he notes. And, despite his not understanding most of what he was singing, he did understand “what the songs really meant to us as Jews, as a family, as people in the world. They were our bond, our unity, our affirmation, our courage. They were our way of claiming our rhythmic and harmonic relation with each other and with our community. Our songs reinforced our solidarity, our sense that we could overcome the obstacles in our path.”

As for when his musical career began, Kahn told the Independent, “You might say I ‘turned professional’ in 1974. I had just turned 30 years old a few months before I recorded my first album, an LP titled New Wood, which was released in 1975 on June Appal Records.

“One of my first paid public performances was in 1979 … at the second-ever Vancouver Folk Music Festival. I’d led traditional labour and civil rights songs at rallies and demonstrations and on picket lines, but Vancouver was one of the first times I played my own original songs in public.

“While I do consider myself a professional musician, and while I’m a longtime member of the American Federation of Musicians (AFM), music has always been a very part-time vocation for me. My lifetime identity and work since I was 21 years old has been as a civil rights, labour and community organizer.

“I once told a reporter that my music is ‘a hobby that got out of hand.’ That’s really an accurate description. I typically do no more than three festivals and a dozen concerts each year at most. Most of my appearances are benefits for progressive nonprofits,” he said, adding that he’d be performing at the Vancouver Folk Music Festival house-party fundraiser on July 12.

Kahn heads to Orillia, Ont., for a July 7 performance at the Mariposa Folk Festival. From there, he’ll come to Vancouver for the folk festival, but also “to do some organizing work for Musicians United to Protect Bristol Bay.” It’s a cause he’s been helping on a volunteer basis since 2010 – the campaign’s goal is “to stop the Pebble Mine, and to protect permanently Alaska’s Bristol Bay, a cultural and environmental treasure, and one of the world’s last remaining great wild salmon fisheries.” He has donated all of the income from his 18th CD, called Bristol Bay, to the musicians’ group.

About combining music with activism, Kahn said, “The defining moment for me came when I was working with the Student Nonviolent Coordinating Committee (SNCC) on the Arkansas side of the Mississippi River Delta in the summer of 1965, when I was 21 years old, during the Southern Civil Rights Movement, which was very much a singing movement. That was when I first began to understand the usefulness of music in movements for social justice.”

Among Kahn’s many achievements in the social justice arena was being, in the early 1980s, an initial organizer and the founding national board chair for the Jewish Fund for Justice, the predecessor to Bend the Arc: A Jewish Partnership for Justice. He has written three books on community organizing.

“I see myself as an organizer, which I consider a specific type of activism, rather than as an activist,” he explained. “Organizers work to bring people together so that they can use the power of numbers to counter the power of money, authority and/or force.

“In any organizing campaign, in any campaign for justice, there will be competing sets of ‘facts.’ Whether our facts are more accurate/truthful than their facts isn’t nearly as important as whether, through organizing, we can build enough collective power to persuade those who have the ability to make the change, or changes, we’re asking for to meet our demands.”

On the topic of truth, Kahn said, “For me, there’s a difference between accuracy and truthfulness. Take, for example, the story of Moses receiving the Ten Commandments on Mount Sinai. Is that story accurate in the literal sense? But it should be told and retold truthfully, meaning that it’s our responsibility to transmit the story as it was told to us, whether verbally or in written form.

“My question is whether, in the real world, it’s even possible to differentiate,” he said. “If someone believes something passionately, it’s more than likely that no amount of either ‘facts’ or ‘alternative facts’ is going to persuade them to change their mind.

“Minds are more likely to be changed by experience. One of an organizer’s roles is to help the people she/he is working with have experiences through which they achieve a sense of possibility, that the world might be different for them and for others like them.

“This is also one of the places where storytelling can be useful. Years ago, I was in an audience listening to former U.S. senator Paul Simon. I don’t recall the specifics but, at one point, he was challenged on his support for legislation concerned with disability rights. He could have answered with facts/statistics (or, for that matter, with ‘alternative facts’). Instead, he said, ‘Let me tell you about a young man I know,’ and proceeded from there.”

In the musical Hope, there is a song called “Dreamers,” the chorus of which calls for us to “honour the dreamers.”

“I consider myself a ‘practical radical,’ someone who helps people work towards what at least appear – based on careful analysis and strategic thinking – to be achievable goals,” said Kahn. “If that’s being a dreamer, dayenu.

“There are many things I’d like to see in this world we share that I just don’t see as possible. I may be wrong in that judgment. But, if I’m going to help people organize themselves in order to achieve a goal they share, I need to believe there’s at least one and hopefully several practical paths to achieving that goal.

“The ‘dreamers’ I honour are those who not only have a dream, but who do everything they can to make it real.”

For the Vancouver Folk Music Festival’s 25th anniversary, Kahn wrote the song “For Canada,” which recalls the Underground Railway, the slaves making their dangerous way here: “When all hope was failing, think what strength it gave / To dream about a country that no longer held a slave….” A country to which, “… my own father’s father came with willing hands / To bend his back and lay the track across this wild land….”

And it was on his way home (by car) from his 1979 festival appearance that Kahn wrote “Plains of Canada,” the lyrics of which show his affection for the country – an affection that endures.

And so, too, does his love of singing and performing.

“Vancouver resident Josh Dunson, who was my agent for over 30 years until his retirement from the music business, once told me that what I bring to my musical performances is my many years’ experience as an organizer. That’s a very perceptive observation and a good description of what I try to do in the musical part of my life and work,” said Kahn. “When I’m planning a concert, when I’m on stage, I’m doing my best to help those who are listening feel that they’re not so much a passive audience but active participants. Sometimes this means singing along, sometimes it means thinking about what they’re hearing and applying it to their own lives and their own work. It’s that possibility that still excites me even after all these years.”

This year’s folk festival, once again at Jericho Beach, starts with a free concert the night of July 13, and then there are day and weekend passes that can be purchased for the performances July 14-16. For tickets and the full schedule, visit thefestival.bc.ca.

Join Bob Bossin at folk fest

Bob Bossin as Davy in Davy and the Punk. (photo by Derek Kilbourn)

For legendary Canadian folksinger Bob Bossin, who has called Gabriola Island home since 1991, it all started with “The King.”

“It was Elvis,” he told the Independent about his start in music. Bossin is among the performers featured at this July’s Vancouver Folk Music Festival. “I loved the early rock ’n’ rollers, and asked my parents for a guitar when I was 9. They bought the cheapest one – ‘he’ll never stick with it’ – and I only stuck with it because they said I wouldn’t.

“That would have been 1955,” he said. “It only took a few years for the music industry to take over rock ’n’ roll and turn it mushy. Then, one night in 1958, I was listening to the radio and they played a spare, strange song about a man who was about to be hanged for murdering a woman, a particular woman named Laura Foster. His name was Tom Dooley. It was the damndest song I’d ever heard. I was hooked by folk music and have stayed hooked for 60-plus years.”

For Bossin, “Folk music is just the musical expression of what you might otherwise talk about or write about or argue about or read about.

“I suppose I like performing because I like the attention. I also like that you can get ideas across, sometimes profoundly, once you’ve learned the skills to do that. When I was performing Davy the Punk, my show about my dad’s life in the 1930s gambling business, I loved to show an audience that you could spark their interest and pull them into a world they knew little about, and do it with just a bare stage, a beat-up acoustic guitar and 50-odd years of learning how to tell a story.

“At this late date in my performing career,” he said, “I also realize there is a part of the history of folk music that we old fogies can share, those of us who saw or hung out with Rev. Gary Davis, Jean Carignan, Dave Van Ronk, the Seegers and so on.”

It was in 1971 that Bossin and Marie-Lynn Hammond formed Stringband. Their first album was Canadian Sunset and, with various other band members, they toured for some 15 years and recorded seven albums. They went from one end of the country to other, and back again, more than once.

Writes Bossin on his website, “We played, over the years, in the U.S., U.K., U.S.S.R., Europe, Japan, Mexico and Newfoundland. The list of musicians who sat in or recorded with us is too long to recite, though it includes Nancy Ahern, Daniel Lanois, Stan Rogers, Kieran Overs and Jane Fair. The songs we made (sort of) famous include ‘Dief Will be the Chief Again,’ ‘The Maple Leaf Dog,’ ‘I Don’t Sleep with Strangers Anymore,’ ‘La jeune mariee,’ ‘Tugboats,’ ‘Daddy was a Ballplayer,’ ‘All the Horses Running,’ ‘Lunenburg Concerto’ and ‘Show Us the Length.’”

The music industry has changed in so many ways since he began his career, said Bossin. “When we started Stringband in 1971, there was no indie music scene, virtually no indie recording. Some credit us with starting that whole movement in Canada, and there is some truth to that.

“They say it is harder to earn a living as a musician now, but it is also easier to get your music out there. There are so many more ways to reach specialized audiences like folkies. So, while it probably is harder to be a professional musician, that has never been what folk music is about at its core. I think the internet, the social networks and all that high-tech stuff have been a great boon to folk music, to people making and sharing music about what they and their communities care about.”

Bossin has certainly used technology to inform, educate and influence people on environmental issues. As examples, the video Sulphur Passage was an integral part of the campaign that saved Clayoquot Sound from clear-cut logging, and his 10-minute video laying out the potential consequences of Kinder Morgan’s Burnaby plans has more than 12,000 views since it was posted at the end of April.

“I remember thinking, when I decided to join the fight against turning Vancouver into an oil port, that I probably had one more good fight in me. And it has been a great experience, I’ve met lovely people, been learning a lot,” said Bossin. “On the other side of the ledger, my YouTube video Only One Bear in a Hundred Bites but They Don’t Come in Order, has gone positively viral. It may have even changed a few votes in the provincial election. If it helped get rid of those heartless bastards that have been in power here for far too long, hooray!”

Bossin is quite comfortable mixing music and politics. About the role of art in a society, he said it should be “to make people’s lives better, by the beauty of the sound or the freshness of the vision. Or by contributing to the struggle for a better and more just world. Or, these days, just to there being a habitable world at all.”

Born and raised in Toronto, Bossin lived in Vancouver from 1980 until he moved to Gabriola. His mother, Marcia, was an artist and his dad was “Davy the Punk” – Bossin wrote both the book Davy the Punk: A Story of Bookies, Toronto the Good, the Mob and My Dad (The Porcupine’s Quill, 2014) and the musical version. His music credits also include the records The Roses on Annie’s Table (2005) and Gabriola V0R1X0 (1994); in the late 1980s, he created the musical play Bossin’s Home Remedy for Nuclear War, which he performed some 200 times. He has written essays, articles and poetry that have been published by various outlets over the years, and his book Settling Clayoquot (1981) was part of the Province of British Columbia’s Sound Heritage Series. In 2007, he published the short story Latkes, which was illustrated by fabric artist and fellow Jewish community member Sima Elizabeth Shefrin – the two met in 2005 and were married in 2012.

When asked by the JI if he’d like to add anything else, he said, “I’m the oldest softball player on Gabriola Island. Possibly ever.”

For more on Bossin, visit bossin.com. For the full Vancouver Folk Music Festival schedule, visit thefestival.bc.ca – the festival starts with a Thursday night concert this year, running July 13-16 at Jericho Beach.

Songs with meaning

Geoff Berner brings his hard-hitting, eminently entertaining klezmer to the Vancouver Folk Music Festival on July 16 and 17. (photo by Fumie Suzuki)

Geoff Berner doesn’t mince words. An excellent musician, he puts them to melodies that range from mournful to joyous to angry, sometimes all in one song, sometimes all at the same time. There are lyrics that inspire and those that disturb. Every song makes you think, feel, move. Berner will no doubt draw an enthusiastic crowd at the Vancouver Folk Music Festival next weekend.

His latest CD, We Are Going to Bremen to be Musicians (2015, Oriente Musik/COAX), was produced by Socalled, aka Josh Dolgin, who also contributes piano and vocals to the recording. The title song is a reinterpretation of the Brothers Grimm fairy tale Town Musicians of Bremen.

“I had an urge to retell that fable,” he told the Independent in an email interview. “At the time, I didn’t know why. I just became obsessed with it. It’s so strange. It’s a kids story about talking animals who are condemned to death but instead run away, with the plan of becoming professional musicians. Then they drive some thieves from their den, and take over the den and all the stolen goods. ‘The End.’ What?”

The animals in Berner’s song, who “people say” are “too used up to be allowed to live,” head to Bremen to be musicians, “to speak of death another day and have a sacred feast with what we stole from the thieves.” The donkey fearlessly leads his small troupe, “realism is something he’s not needing. People talk like they understand the world but they may find, when it kicks them in the head, it’s liable to change their mind.” The rooster, meanwhile, “thinks he can predict the future. Actually, he’s just a rooster. If he could read his own entrails he would see the comfort-giving chicken soup that is his destiny.” Finally, the “dog is full of moral confusion, but the cat is under no illusion. The dog did his killing out of loyalty, and for pay, but the cat knows why he would have done it anyway.” The animals are on their way to Bremen to be musicians: “They’re going to build a statue of us in the square. To commemorate the fact that we were never there.”

Berner told CBC that he thought that his obsession with the story was connected to the loss of both of his parents from cancer within a short amount of time of each other (2013-2014). “Grappling with the story,” he said, “was me trying to find a back door to processing what was going on in my life at the time … contemplating and dealing with mortality of people who were really great parents and very important to me.”

Raised in Vancouver in the Reform and Conservative traditions, Berner’s lyrics, while mostly English, are steeped in Yiddish culture and his style is most definitely klezmer.

“My grandparents spoke Yiddish,” he explained to the JI, “but it was not seen as something worth teaching to their children. So, to a certain extent, I’m trying to reclaim my heritage. We listened to some klezmer music at home and at Hebrew school, and a lot of other stuff, too.

“I originally learned music playing improvised blues piano. I love all kinds of music but, by bringing klezmer into my songwriting, I get to connect with a part of myself that I’d otherwise feel was missing from my life. And I feel strongly that there’s a radical left-wing Jewish culture that deserves to live, as much or in fact more than the nutso Orthodox tradition that represses women and worships a toxic, murderous form of Zionism.”

Berner has strong opinions, that’s for sure, and his songs can be highly critical, no doubt – just ask Gregor Robertson or Stephen Harper, among many others who have made their way into Berner’s discography. But, while he may be tilting at windmills, Berner is trying to rouse action and, with his music, he is trying to do something himself to change the world. Which is why a description of Berner in the Ottawa Citizen as “eternally cynical” doesn’t quite ring true, nor do other similar categorizations.

“I guess I get more of a thrill than a lot of people out of somebody saying flat-out, unvarnished, just how bad a thing really is,” Berner told the JI. “Does that mean I’m a cynic? I don’t know. I like the way George Orwell defined himself, as ‘an independent man of the left.’ That’s how I would define myself, politically. Am I cynical if I believe that a lot of public figures are lying and don’t have the public interest at heart? OK, so be it. Am I cynical if I don’t believe that the narrative of the human story is ‘progress upwards’? OK, so be it. I believe that there’s genuine, eternal divinity residing in the act of fighting the good fight, even if you strongly suspect you’re going to lose. To me, God lives there, so I don’t need optimism in order to feel hope.”

One of the most fun and, at the same time, discomforting songs on Berner’s latest recording is “Dance and Celebrate,” which doesn’t just talk about celebrating the “misfortunes of people we hate” but wishes misfortunes on people, and lumps together the likes of Joseph Stalin, Margaret Thatcher, Ariel Sharon and Harper.

“That song is more about allowing yourself to feel so-called ‘negative’ emotions like, for instance, white-hot, burning hatred, without judging yourself,” Berner explained. “I’m a big believer in that. What you then do with those feelings, that’s another thing. I think the Irish peace process is a good model for other conflicts because, in that case, instead of demanding a utopian, inhuman level of forgiveness from enemies, it asked less of people. Let’s not worry about whether or not we love each other, or whether or not, deep down, everyone is the same, blah, blah, blah. Let’s just begin by not actually killing each other – today. Then take it from there. If we acknowledge our real emotions, truthfully, maybe that’s a better way to begin improving the situation than to ask for the moon.”

Realism – unnecessary to the Bremen-headed donkey and so many of us – is at Berner’s core, and it sets him apart. A Georgia Straight article earlier this year was headlined, “Geoff Berner finds the humor in being a Lotusland outsider.”

“I don’t know if I really am on the outside – I have loads of privileges – but I feel like I’m on the outside,” he told the JI. “I feel apart from this culture that we’re living in, which seems floridly insane to me. In this world, there are half the birds that there were the year when I was born. Half the birds are gone. It doesn’t seem to matter to anyone. People go to plastic surgery and pay thousands of dollars to cut themselves up to look more like magazine covers. Christmas. Weddings. ‘Camping.’ What the hell? None of the things that seem central to this culture make any sense to me. I need an alternative culture to belong to, so I don’t just feel like everyone else is right and I’m a monster. So, my writing is a way to try to be part of building that. The feedback I get is that some people appreciate it. And, of course, some people don’t.”

Many people have appreciated We Are Going to Bremen to be Musicians, it seems. In addition to the recording, Berner created a book of the tale, with illustrations by Tin Can Forest. Tin Can Forest Press’ first printing of it, published in 2015, sold out; the second printing will be available next month.

Berner has also written a novel, Festival Man (Dundurn Press, 2013) – wherein “[m]averick music manager Campbell Ouiniette makes a final destructive bid for glory at the Calgary Folk Festival” – which was well received, and he has a second novel on the way, called The Fiddler is a Good Woman, expected in late 2017.

On Berner’s website, the Bremen story is described as “an absurd tale of irrational hope and optimism in the face of horror, and that’s where the story connects with the songs on the album.” Berner describes the album “as a compendium of strategies against despair.”

He’s right – as serious as Bremen is, it’s uplifting. There is much humor, as song titles such as “I Don’t Feel so Mad at God When I See You in Your Summer Dress,” readily attest, and much with which Vancouverites in particular will relate – take the song “Condos,” for example. And where else will you hear David Bowie’s “Always Crashing in the Same Car” in Yiddish?

Berner is one of more than 60 performers scheduled to perform at the Vancouver Folk Music Festival this year. The festival, which takes place at Jericho Beach July 15-17, also includes Israel’s Yemen Blues with Ravid Kahalani. For a 2011 interview with Kahalani, click here. For the full lineup and tickets of the folk festival, visit thefestival.bc.ca.

Alt-neu klezmer sound

Shtreiml and Ismail Fencioglu will play at the Vancouver Folk Music Festival, as well as concerts on Vancouver and Salt Spring islands. (photo from Vancouver Folk Music Festival)

Shtreiml and Ismail Fencioglu will be right at home among the top talent that will gather at the Vancouver Folk Music Festival July 17-19. As did their previous recordings, the group’s fourth CD, Eastern Hora, received critical acclaim – it also resulted in the band’s nomination as group of the year in the 2014 Canadian Folk Music Awards.

Shtreiml is composer, pianist and harmonica player Jason Rosenblatt; trombonist Rachel Lemisch, originally from Philadelphia, who met Rosenblatt at KlezKanada (the couple dated long-distance for a few years, marrying in 2004); drummer Thierry Arsenault; bassist Joel Kerr; and composer, oud player and vocalist Ismail Fencioglu, who harkens from Istanbul.

Rosenblatt met Fencioglu a couple of years after Shtreiml was formed. The two played together at Festival du Monde Arabe in 2004.

The festival’s artistic director, Joseph Nakhlé, is “very forward-thinking, and he wanted the festival to be “more inclusive and, of course, Jewish people have had a presence in the Arab world for thousands of years, so he wanted to have a Jewish group,” Rosenblatt told the Independent in a phone interview from Montreal. While Shtreiml is not a Mizrahi or Sephardi group by any stretch, he said, Nakhlé wanted to add another element of the Middle East, “so he introduced us to Ismail, and we started this collaborative project.

“The first concert, we played all traditional tunes … traditional Jewish or traditional Turkish melodies, and we’ve just been working ever since at creating our own music. He writes music for the group, I write music for the group, and we created this hybrid sound.”

Rosenblatt attributes the success of Shtreimel to several factors. “First of all, I think when we perform live, it’s engaging in the sense that … you have the instrumentation that people don’t see very often … it’s instruments that people aren’t necessarily familiar with … so, to see someone from Turkey playing the oud and also singing in a style (microtonal), getting the notes in between the notes, I think that’s interesting.”

Another factor, and Rosenblatt said he never thought he would describe the band in this way, but “people like to see an Orthodox Jew and a Muslim playing together. He’s a secular Muslim and I don’t make a secret that I’m an Orthodox Jew, I wear kippa on stage, but I think there’s something heartwarming about it.” The two have been friends for a long time now, and they still get along really well, said Rosenblatt.

And, of course, there’s the music. “We try to stay away from cliché compositions … and, if we do play something that’s super-traditional, we try to add our own flavor, our own spin on it.”

Rosenblatt grew up in a musical family.

“Jewish music was always in the house,” he said, “but the main form of music that my parents listened to was folk and blues, early jazz, that type of thing. But we always had klezmer greats, Dave Tarras, Naftule Brandwein, somewhere in the background; Yossele Rosenblatt [no relation] from cantorial music, my grandmother sang Yiddish folk songs. But my main love of music was – I was influenced by my parents to get into – blues and early jazz.”

Rosenblatt’s dad is a doctor but he plays guitar, and he would play for the kids when Rosenblatt was growing up. His mother is a folksinger, Abigail Rosenblatt, with recordings of her own, and she has accompanied Rosenblatt’s bands on various occasions and on recordings. He has four siblings, who all played an instrument when they were growing up, but did not choose music as a profession, or at least not their main profession, as one of his brothers, Eli, who is a lawyer, has made recordings.

Rosenblatt grew up singing in synagogue, leading services; he took piano lessons. He said he picked up his first harmonica when he was 15 years old because his dad had a bunch lying around. He thought that “Oh Susannah” might have been his first tune, then his parents gave him a tape of Sonny Terry and Brownie McGhee, “an African-American duo that were big in the ’30s, and then, with the folk music revival of the 1960s, a bunch of white, Jewish people rediscovered all these amazing African-American musicians, and it kind of brought them out of retirement. While these guys were out of style for the black community, for these young Jewish people that were rediscovering blues-roots music, these guys became stars again.”

Later, when Rosenblatt started getting into the electric harmonica and Chicago blues, his parents gave him other records to inspire him, Paul Butterfield Blues Band, for example.

While he majored in economics, many of his undergraduate credits were in music, he said, and, during his subsequent MBA, he was still playing weddings and other gigs.

He headed to Israel for about five years, in the latter half of the 1990s, to work in software design. It was an educational multimedia firm, he said, “so they had these various videos and diagrams explaining certain things, historical tours, they did different projects. One of them was the genius of Edison, and Leonardo da Vinci, so they explained various inventions and each invention that was being explained was in a video and I was doing the music for those videos, and then, at night I would play [music] in bars.”

In terms of college-level music instruction, Rosenblatt said he had “one year of serious music education,” the rest was on his own and through mentors, such as Howard Levy, a well-known harmonica player.

“I studied European music at the Rimon School of Jazz [and Contemporary Music] in Israel,” he said. “Then, toward my mid 20s, I started getting into Jewish music a little more seriously, the roots of Jewish music, klezmer and cantorial music, through an organization called KlezKanada…. And I really got into listening again to klezmer greats, trying to apply the repertoire, the ornamentation, etc., to the harmonica, and also to the piano.

“Out of that experience of learning these tunes,” he continued, “I needed some sort of outlet and I formed a band called Shtreiml…. I formed it with Josh Dolgin, who’s known as Socalled … and it started off as a young group playing traditional klezmer music with somewhat untraditional instruments because I was playing harmonica, my wife was on trombone, Josh Dolgin was on accordion, and then we had bass and drums. The group kind of morphed, we played traditional repertoire, to a certain degree, until we felt we couldn’t take the repertoire much further. Then, I started writing a bunch of new material, Jewish instrumental music based on traditional modes, using traditional ornamentation and improvisation, and that’s how the band started.”

As to his compositions, Rosenblatt said, “I listen to a lot of music and I come up with ideas. I don’t just compose in the Jewish realm, I also … have a new album coming out of ragtime and jazz, and not just instrumental music but vocal music as well…. Especially with regards to the Jewish material, I saw a need for it because we were researching a lot of old klezmer tunes and we kind of got tired of always having to research and look for something old, why not create something new? We always say that we have great new music that has a reverence for the past.”

Eastern Hora follows Harmonica Galitzianer (2002), Spicy Paprikash (2004) and Fenci’s Blues (2006). Between Eastern Hora and Fenci’s Blues, Rosenblatt was working with a group called D’Harmo, “and I came out with an album with them, I was working quite a bit with them. I was doing another project, called Jump Babylon, which is a Jewish rock project. It’s difficult, we are self-managed, in other words, I manage everything…. So, to try to do projects simultaneously, especially recording projects, it’s difficult, so that’s the reason for that gap in recordings for Shtreiml because I was doing other things in between [including his continuing role as artistic director of the six-year-old annual Montreal Jewish Music Festival, which will take place in August]. But that doesn’t mean that the band was on hiatus. We were still performing and, since the new record came out, I’ve been putting a lot of emphasis on trying to book the group because it’s fun and we get along, it’s fun to tour together. I think also that the playing of the group matured quite a bit between 2006 and 2014, and I think audiences see that the compositions are little more complex and I think our stage presence is better.”

Shtreiml and Fencioglu will be doing four gigs in British Columbia. He and Lemisch are bringing the whole mishpocha with them: four kids, 7, 5, 3 and seven months. “I’m looking forward to coming to Vancouver, it’s our second time. We were there last year for a wedding…. We have what we call functional music and then we have original music, and so we’re excited to be playing our artistic project for what I know is going to be an appreciative audience because whenever we go to folk festivals, it’s always people are there because they want to hear music.”

Shtreiml and Ismail Fencioglu will be at the Vancouver Folk Music Festival July 17-19, Congregation Emanu-El in Victoria July 15, Vancouver Island Musicfest in Comox July 10-12 and Fulford Hall on Salt Spring Island July 9.

Ventanas to play at Folk Fest

Tamar Ilana, centre right, and the Ventanas will perform at the Vancouver Folk Music Festival, which takes place July 18-20. (photo from the Ventanas)

It is no wonder that the music of Tamar Ilana and the Ventanas is eclectic, with influences from around the world. Ilana has not only traveled the world, studying in both Canada and Spain, but performs with a group of talented musicians whose expertise and interests are as wide-ranging as her own. When she and the Ventanas play at the Vancouver Folk Music Festival next weekend, July 18-20, they will offer, as their name suggests, “windows into other lands and cultures.” And, they will have you up dancing.

Born in Toronto, Ilana lived in the heart of the city with her mother, Dr. Judith R. Cohen, an ethnomusicologist and performer specializing in Judeo-Spanish (Ladino) songs. She studied French and graduated high school with a bilingual diploma. “However,” she told the Independent, “I also feel like I grew up in Spain.”

Explained Ilana, “I began accompanying my mother on her field trips when I was 4 (my first trip was to Israel), and then Spain when I was 5. I have had a few homes in Spain over the years. First, Ribadavia, Galicia, where I would roam the castle grounds (now closed to the public) and contemplate the small length of the old graves there, and how short people must have been. Then Hervás, Cáceres, which will forever be ‘mi pueblo.’ When I was 12, I met a family there who took me in as their own and, when my mom would romp all over the peninsula, studying, researching and traveling, I would often stay in Hervás with my ‘family’ there, and join up with my mom for shows. It is in Hervás that I really feel I learned Spanish, grew up a lot, and became a lot of who I am today.”

At 14, Ilana went to Ibiza with her mother, who “was retracing Alan Lomax’s footsteps from 50 years previous.” Since then, Ilana has spent many summers there, she did her third year of university in Barcelona, and studied flamenco in Seville for a year. “So, really, Spain is my other home,” she said.

“My father is part Native Canadian (Cree-Saulteaux), part Romanian and part Scottish. I have not lived with him since I was a baby, but we are close and he has always been a big part of my life. He came to visit me in Barcelona and Seville both times I lived there. He is not a musician but he is a huge supporter of the arts and my life. He says he is my No. 2 fan (my mother being No. 1, hahaha). Both my parents definitely support me as a performer.”

“Science, although I do love it as well, was almost just a form of rebellion from music! But I have now accepted music as who I am.”

Despite being surrounded by music, and performing from a young age, Ilana graduated from University of Toronto with a B.Sc. in biology and worked in the field briefly. “Science, although I do love it as well, was almost just a form of rebellion from music!” she said. “But I have now accepted music as who I am.”

The list of countries to which Ilana has traveled is long. “I used to complain a lot about traveling and performing … and I said that, when I grew up, I wanted to be ‘normal,’ with a house, a car, a 9-5 job. But, I guess, deep down, I always enjoyed the actual singing part. Now, singing, performing and traveling are just so much a part of me that even when I tried to change myself with my biology degree and then working 9-5 for two years in renewable energy, I felt like an imposter. Now, I feel like myself.”

Ilana began her study of flamenco when she was 8, captivated by a performance by Esmeralda Enrique (in Toronto): “I said to my mom, ‘I want to do that,’ and she said, ‘So go talk to her.’ I did, and I began studying dance with her that same year. I have been immersed in the flamenco world ever since.”

When studying in Barcelona in 2007, Ilana did a workshop with Montse Cortés, and “fell in love with flamenco singing.” She said she felt like all the parts of her life were being pulled together.

“Flamenco is everything,” said Ilana. “It is sorrow, it is happiness, it is love, it is death. It is every emotion you could possibly feel all together. It is also technically difficult, which is a good challenge. Flamenco is amazing in that if you speak ‘flamenco,’ you can get on stage with anyone else who speaks ‘flamenco’ and do a whole show without ever speaking to each other in any common tongue.”

Ilana continues to study with Enrique, and sings with her company. She also teaches dancing and singing out of Enrique’s studio, the Academy of Spanish Dance in Toronto.

Though she was working with fantastic people, her mind and soul were on her music and dancing, “what I was going to sing, what I was going to wear, who would be doing the show with me, how to promote it.” So, she left her job, sold her car, left everything she had dreamed of having as a child, and went to Seville.

The path has required courage on more than one occasion. After graduating U of T, she worked as co-campaign coordinator of the Green Energy Act Alliance. Once the act was passed, she was offered a promotion by the nonprofit with which she was working, “but it did not feel right,” said Ilana. Though she was working with fantastic people, her mind and soul were on her music and dancing, “what I was going to sing, what I was going to wear, who would be doing the show with me, how to promote it.” So, she left her job, sold her car, left everything she had dreamed of having as a child, and went to Seville.

“I felt like I was singing flamenco but, really, I felt like I did not know what I was doing, and the only way to know what I was doing would be to go immerse myself in that culture for an extended period of time,” she explained. “It was difficult. The first day at the Fundación Cristina Heeren Escuela de Arte Flamenco was hard – the other singers were so good! Up until then, I had felt like I was a good singer, but that day I felt like I had never sung before in my life! I came home crying. I cried many times at that school – sometimes I was even told I would never be able to sing flamenco because I was not from there! But those hard words actually contributed to the power of flamenco singing, and I began to sing stronger and with more confidence and more knowledge.

“My singing and my understanding of flamenco changed drastically that year (2010-2011), and I returned in 2013 with a Chalmer’s Professional Development Grant to study for another three months. My goal when I first went to Seville was to learn a cante libre (form with no rhythm) and I learned many, which I still sing today, such as ‘Granaína.’”

Although Ashkenazi, Ilana grew up surrounded by Sephardi music and culture, it being her mother’s specialty. “She is a preserver of many old songs that almost no one sings anymore,” said Ilana. “To her, these precious songs are treasures to be guarded dearly.

“I did not grow up religious,” she added, “but we always celebrated the High Holidays with my extended family, and sometimes went to shul. My mother likes going to the synagogue of the Indian Jews here in Toronto sometimes because she is ever interested in different musical cultures and how different communities celebrate, sing and dance according to their customs.

“We often lit candles and sang the prayers on Shabbat, and we traveled to Israel many times as I was growing up…. I recently returned to Israel after many years, this time with Taglit Birthright, and I stayed to visit my cousin and also to play some flamenco in Tel Aviv with friends I had met in Seville.

“Although I am not religious, I feel like the Jewish people are my family, and that there is a common understanding somehow between us all, no matter where we are from in the world. I find this feeling difficult to explain to non-Jews sometimes, but it is a deep feeling I have.”

“Although I am not religious, I feel like the Jewish people are my family, and that there is a common understanding somehow between us all, no matter where we are from in the world. I find this feeling difficult to explain to non-Jews sometimes, but it is a deep feeling I have.”

Before she went to Seville, Ilana was performing with various groups in different projects – a glimpse of her website shows that she still has a host of projects on the go – and, while she was away, these musicians “formed a collective dubbed Fedora Upside-Down (based on the fact that many are buskers, and the idea was to bring folk and world music to the streets to make it more accessible to the general public). It truly felt as though all my worlds had collided, and everyone was just waiting for me to come home and fit right in. And I did!”

From a flamenco rehearsal with Dennis Duffin, Ilana was connected with Mark Marzcyk, leader of Lemon Bucket Orkestra (LBO). The trio was joined by LBO percussionist Jaash Singh and, said Ilana, “We jammed all of summer 2011, in the heart of Fedora Upside-Down, our community and best friends and colleagues. By the time the fall came around, we started being invited to play shows and we called ourselves Ventanas, which means ‘Windows’ in Spanish, after the idea that we are a series of windows into other lands and cultures.”

The only part missing, she said, was an oud player. Singh suggested his friend Demetrios Petsalakis. “He appeared in my kitchen and it was as though he had been there all along!” said Ilana. “We invited him out to our weekend gig … and he showed up and played all the tunes with no charts and barely a rehearsal, just picking them up on the fly. And so, our original quintet was formed.”

Though Ilana dances on some of the pieces, the transition between dancing and singing can be hard, so Ilana invited Ilse Gudiño to join the group, and LBO dancer Stephania Woloshyn also was a guest performer many times. “These are the seven members on our debut self-titled EP,” noted Ilana.

Alexandra Talbot joined when Gudiño had a baby, and now tours with them, and “violinist, composer, friend and Fedora Upside-Down colleague Jessica Hana Deutsch” is also on this tour, as is percussionist Derek Gray.

“Our creative process is always changing,” explained Ilana. “Basically, I am the leader and can make the final call on things. But, since I play with such talented musicians and each one of them knows their styles and cultures so incredibly well, I really just trust their judgment on most things. Mark has a gifted ear for arranging, so especially at the beginning, we would follow his suggestions. Demetrios has a certain ability to compose music that sounds as if it is an old, traditional song, and

Dennis always adds a flamenco feel to it with his voicings and rhythmic changes. Everyone really brings their musical lives to the table and we take it from there. Anyone can suggest a song, teach it, and everyone’s input is heavily taken into consideration before anything is set in stone. Basically, everything is a group decision, and it works surprisingly smoothly.”

The Ventanas’ appearance at the Vancouver Folk Fest is part of a cross-Canada tour and, said Ilana, “Right now, I am planning on going to WOMEX in October to make some important connections and also meet with a few friends there to plan our first European tour. We plan on performing in Spain, Portugal, France, Italy and Germany in the next year. We might even make it to Greece. WOMEX is in Galicia this year, which will bring me right back to when I was 10 years old and traveling there a lot.”

While Ilana has never been a member of LBO, she has been their guest in various shows, and she has “shared many stages with them, traveled and performed with them.” As it happens, LBO will also be at the Vancouver Folk Fest and, said Ilana, “Ventanas and Lemon Bucket will join forces at VFMF. Come and see how!”

For more about the Ventanas, visit ventanasmusic.com. For the full lineup of Folk Fest performers and other information, visit thefestival.bc.ca.