Our Windy Celtic Gig

Last Saturday was a windy, windy day.

Kilts flapped in the breeze. Tents were blown away.

And our "Irish" band That Raucous Crew played at the Frederick Celtic Festival.

Several hundred people roamed the Frederick Fairgrounds as bagpipe bands keened away.

Inside the large grandstand, girls and boys danced jigs and reels.

Outside, highland games were played as the wind whipped.

At the impressive opening ceremonies, 

the Mass Pipe Band was led by a very tall drum major with a very tall mace.

Scottish clans paraded under clan banners.

Enormous Irish wolfhounds and their owners roamed the grounds.

A highland bull named Curly was available for petting.

Vendors sold haggis and kilts and Celtic garb under precarious, flapping tents.

In the MacGratis tent, our friends Ted and Susie Tomalewski were singing "Loch Lomond" when a big section of the tent went airborne. (No one was hurt.)

The VIP tent offered food and drinks to the performers, 

but the chef was understandably upset that the food kept being blown onto the grass.

(I enjoyed the fresh raspberries and blackberries anyway.)

Rockville High School Pipe Band paraded continually around the grounds, playing in formation. I enjoyed them a lot.

My friend Steve Koch (a true Celtic enthusiast) spent almost all day at the festival, and came home with a large bag of goodies, including haggis.

On the large main stage inside the racetrack, That Raucous Crew was one of four bands performing as "headliners." Each band played two 45-minute sets, and we were scheduled at 10:00 a.m. (opening time) and 3:00 p.m. (the best slot of the day).

We knew the 10:00 a.m. set would be poorly attended, so we sang our less impressive songs then -- Galway Races, I'se the B'y, Is There For Honest Poverty, and seven others. Gusts blew my papers away and knocked down free-standing drums and stands. The racetrack was a dusty elongated donut, and dust choked us as we sang.

As three o'clock neared, things picked up. Friends arrived, including my wife Connie and our three-year-old grandson Caleb. He had his guitar with him, and wrap-around blue sunglasses. He was ready to perform!

We took the stage at 2:45, and, after sound checks, launched into a rollicking set -- I'll Tell Me Ma, The Auld Triangle, Lukey, and seven others.

The band was magnificent:

Ben, wearing his new brown camo Utilikilt, singing loudly and playing mandolin energetically.

Jillian, everyone's Irish sweetheart, her golden voice and tin whistles cutting through the gusts.

Natalie, her hair whipping in the wind, a young Joni Mitchell, grooving on I Know My Love.

Bill, now attacking his guitar, now caressing it, and wailing without restraint.

Doug, ever skillful, free to fly on his Tele, free to riff and jive, the "lone wolf" :)

Greg, poised, focused, serene as a Buddha. The wind kept blowing free strings on his upright bass, so he shifted to his Fender Jazz Bass.

Rick, smiling contentedly, enjoyed it all, holding us together with percussive persuasion.

My accordion was well-amped and I felt free to float on the rhythms everyone else was laying down. My tattered Irish cap kept blowing off my head, so my comb-over was ultimately free to fly :)

One of the things that made this set so much fun for me --
Caleb on the stage near me, strumming his little guitar, singing, smiling. 

I was playing for him. 

We were playing for God and for joy. 

We had a very fun time!