busker

Bagels Sept 16

Always good to see and hear "Tugboat" Bromberg. He has a repertoire outside the ordinary, not to mention a surprisingly clear diction.

To look at the piratical cove, you'd think the sound would just well up from barrel lungs and emerge in a fogbound tugboaty blast, but no - he sings clear as a whistle.

There's another type who rolls up at Seabold with a passable speaking voice but as soon as he gets up there with a guitar, out comes this eunuchy Burl Ives-y drone that I can't make head or tail of. Perhaps that's the point, that Real Men Don't Do Diction.

No problem with the diction of the noble Larry Dewey and loveable Emily Groff, looking cuddly as ever and sporting her digicam-defying anti-paparazzi sweater that not only reflects my camera flash but gives her a supernatural look.

I'm glad Emily was there because she would never have believed my description of another musician's wonderfully hilarious delivery.

A few weeks back, Emily sang a really beautiful version of Iris Dement's "Let the Mystery Be".

On Friday, there was a perfectly nice and upstanding gent whom I've met before and who plays excellent squeeze box and in no way deserves to be the butt of my jejune comments.

Anyway, he was sitting just to my left and I had Emily et co to my right. Suddenly this guy launches into some indeterminate number that I take to be a mittel-European parlor gem from between the wars ... then bits of his singing take on a faint familiarity. As I listen closer, I realize it's the Dement song.

Since, as I say, Emily all but owns this song in my book, I turn to give her a look but she is far too polite and is singing along with a straight expression, albeit slight puzzlement over which chords fit the accordionist's treatment.

I don't know the chords anyway and would have been incapable of strumming along in grown-up fashion.

It's such a sprightly tune, with subtle lilts that it takes a Dement or Groff to capture, and here was the accordion chugging along to some indeterminate tune with the voice in equal monotone fashion.

I sit it out and gulp my coffee and ogle the other lovelies, whose bunch included Ms Georgia Brown and the equally easy-on-the-eye gravel-voiced Eddie.

Honest, it wasn't me - I was in dour humorless mood - and nor do I recall anything overly funny at the time. But on checking the photos, I see that something has Georgia practically helpless with laughter in a number of shots.

Super pictures, and I suspect that she has been set off by that Eddie's dry-witty.

Here's a shot I love (right) of Georgia looking down at Eddie with that proud fond look (at least I think it is; it could of course be an expression of murderous intent) that most men strive a lifetime to earn but never even glimpse. In fact nor does Eddie, since he's looking away and oblivious of his lady's gaze. Just like Life.

Ah!! To the left - much  more convincing ... who wants all ghastly lovey-dovey pics? Here's G and E in *much* more life-like stance: he's leaning forward, sullenly wondering *when* will she catch on that it's *F# minor* after the A? As for Georgia - she's not even looking at him. Domesticity. Gotta love it.

And finally, such a nice photo (right) of a charming duo - particularly the dandy with the topper and cane, quel chic!! - that I am delighted to break my rule of not posting pics of local cuties.