Happy Hopcott had a great week at the Sidmouth Folk Festival 2007 
The music flowed freely at the pub sessions (as well as the beer). I made lots of new friends and the camp site where I parked my trusty old camper van worked out very well (kindly recommended by someone helpful at the Mudcat forums).
As always, it is the conversations that stayed with me long after the final music notes had died away and the trusty old camper van wheels had wended their arthritic way homeward to Somerset.
Camping at the Thorn Park Golf Centre meant I had to catch a bus to and from the festival.
This was highly advisable for two reasons.
Firstly, the hill between the Salcombe Golf Centre and Sidmouth is steeper than you can possibly imagine, especially coming back.
Secondly, the bubbly lady driver of the festival bus was really friendly and so were the passengers – it was a great opportunity for lots of impromptu chat about music related subjects.
In the bus on my way to Sidmouth, with my big bag, containing sop sax and flute, balanced between my knees, I found myself sitting next to a very knowledgeable box player. He was also, I discovered, an author and involved with the Loose Knit Band who played such a great part in hosting the pub sessions at the Sailing Club during Sidmouth folk week.
We were chatting away about why musicians absolutely love playing together. I mentioned a previous folk pub session when my soprano sax Rope Waltz notes had blended magically with those of a young female violinist. I confessed that I’d told her that the twisting, turning, rising and falling notes we blended together, along with the other players in the pub, had been ‘better than sex’. (She assured me that I had no chance of finding out …)
But was the magic of playing together just down to the fact the violinist was good looking and young? Was I just an old man looking for a vicarious thrill?
My bus seat partner thought not and told me of similar back of the neck, hair raising, experiences he’d encountered at really good playing sessions.
This reminded me about how I’d played the wonderful folk tune Enrico ( Jacob) at another folk session where my spine had been tingled by a marvellously harmonised descant. Again it was a violinist whose music soared above the regular tune and made such a magic moment. But this time it was a he, and he was a vegan pensioner … with a beard!
It seems that the magic of playing together knows no boundaries of age or gender. When the notes gel together to form a seamlessly wonderful experience, it is all about the notes and the music.
Yet it’s about people too. It’s about human communication and the pleasures of a shared interest.
Is that better than sex? After 25 years of marriage, perhaps I’m not in the best position to decide.
Try it out for yourself. I’m sure you’ll enjoy the journey and perhaps, one day, we’ll chat together on a crowded but happy folk festival bus and perhaps even blend a note or two.
Bye for now
Rob
(online author and folk musician – check out more articles and comment at news.hopcott.net
