It would have been nice to have a leisurely drive back to Madison, but I had high hopes of making it back in time for Toronto’s Great Lake Swimmers who were playing the third day of the Marquette Waterfront Festival. Torrential rains slowed our drive, but Bill was still able to drop us off at the park precisely at 4:30 and we could hear the melancholy whisper of the band as we walked the length of the park toward the stage.
I had missed the Great Lake Swimmers the last time they came through Madison, but I am convinced I would not have enjoyed them much in the Rathskellar. This is a band that demands silence, Tony Dekker’s delicate ache of a voice, the gentle plunked banjo and thrumming upright bass, all work best with silence and that is in short supply in a room full of drunken college students. In their history of playing in town, they have been one of the few bands able to silence both a King Club and the notoriously chatty Café Montmartre. Uncharacteristically, the last time at the High Noon you couldn’t hear a pin drop, and I only worry that will get worse the more popular the band gets.
Surprisingly, my main complaint today wasn’t the crowd, but instead the sound from the stage. There is a new girl in the band; Cathy’s cousin has been replaced by red-haired fiddler. She had a nice voice too, but it was so high in the mix that every time she sang it drowned out Dekker, and that was disappointing indeed. The new record is the catchiest yet from the Canadians, still graceful and gorgeous but just a bit more upbeat, making it essentially irresistible. Much of the new record was featured in a set played under cloudy skies that occasionally spit out a smattering of raindrops. “Pulling on a Line” and “Everything is Moving so Fast” from Lost Channels and the always gorgeous “Various Stages” from Bodies and Minds were all part of an almost perfect set list under the gray skies.
Almost perfect, except that it didn’t include my absolute favorite song, going back to the first time I ever saw them. The fest director asked if we wanted an encore, and the damp crowd responded enthusiastically. They returned to the stage, and that’s when I surprised myself by yelling “Imaginary Bars” far louder than I meant. Dekker looked in my direction, startled, and I added a meek “please?” They started the first song. It wasn’t it, but it was Alex’s favorite song “Still,” so that was good. Then the rest of the band left the stage, leaving Dekker alone with his guitar. “When the sun fell down and fell asleep, drunk from drinking all the heat” he sang, and a delighted grin spread across my face. I swear he looked over once and smiled to see how happy I was. The second time he reached that opening line, the clouds parted and a ray of sunlight reached the stage. A murmur of approval ran through the crowd.
It had been great up till that point, now it was nothing short of magical.
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