By Blair Kilpatrick
Through age thirty-nine, Blair Kilpatrick had settled into existence as a practising psychologist, spouse, and mom. Then an opportunity come across in New Orleans grew to become her international the wrong way up. She back domestic to Chicago with not likely new passions for Cajun song and its defining software, the accordion. Captivated by means of ordinary goals of taking part in the Cajun accordion, she got down to grasp it. but she used to be now not a musician, was once too self-conscious to bounce, and did not even sing within the bathe. Kilpatrick's obsession took her from Chicago's Cajun dance scene to a folks track camp in West Virginia, backward and forward to south Louisiana, or even to a Cajun competition in France. An unforeseen kinfolk movement introduced her to the San Francisco Bay sector, domestic to the most important Cajun-zydeco tune scene open air the Gulf Coast. There she turned a prot?g? of popular accordionist Danny Poullard, a Louisiana-born Creole and the guiding spirit of the neighborhood Louisiana French tune group. enticing, uplifting, and illuminating a distinct patch of the yankee cultural panorama, Accordion goals is Kilpatrick's account of the potential of ardour, risk-taking, and change--at any age. Blair Kilpatrick has an self sustaining perform in psychotherapy within the San Francisco Bay sector. She additionally plays and documents with Sauce Piquante, a conventional Cajun-Creole band she based within the overdue Nineties. research extra at www.blairkilpatrick.com
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Extra info for Accordion Dreams: A Journey into Cajun and Creole Music
No point in investing too much money in an instrument I might never learn to play. Steve and I set out for Walles Music one Saturday when the boys were visiting my parents. We drove through aging Chicago neighborhoods settled by immigrants from Eastern and Southern Europe. I looked out the window at the mix of wood framed bungalows, auto repair shops, apartment buildings, ethnic bakeries, parish halls, and liquor stores. Everything looked a little faded—and familiar. I remembered those Sunday visits to my mother’s parents, during my grade-school years in Cleveland.
Trade Mark. ” It certainly resembled the instrument in the catalog. A row of ten buttons on one side, two metal keys on the other, two knobs on top. I thought it was beautiful—although it did have a strangely old-fashioned look. “You can play it,” the old woman said. So I picked it up. The accordion felt so light in my hands, lighter than I had imagined. It couldn’t have weighed more than two pounds. I unhooked the metal clasps holding the bellows closed, one in front, one in back, then slipped one hand into the fabric strap on the left, the thumb of the other hand into the smaller loop on the right.
But those accordion dreams persisted, despite the change in my professional life. The music had claimed even more territory in my inner landscape than I realized. By late September, a month into my new job, the spark struck in Louisiana had been burning steadily, the flame growing stronger and fiercer. After nine months of listening, dancing, and dreaming music, I had to find an accordion. If I had worked up the nerve to speak to Charlie, the leader of the local Cajun band, my quest for an instrument might have been more direct.
Accordion Dreams: A Journey into Cajun and Creole Music by Blair Kilpatrick