By Blair Kilpatrick
By means of age thirty-nine, Blair Kilpatrick had settled into existence as a practising psychologist, spouse, and mom. Then an opportunity stumble upon in New Orleans became her international the wrong way up. She again domestic to Chicago with not likely new passions for Cajun song and its defining device, the accordion. Captivated by way of habitual desires of taking part in the Cajun accordion, she got down to grasp it. but she used to be now not a musician, used to be too self-conscious to bop, and did not even sing within the bathe. Kilpatrick's obsession took her from Chicago's Cajun dance scene to a people song camp in West Virginia, from side to side to south Louisiana, or even to a Cajun pageant in France. An unforeseen family members movement introduced her to the San Francisco Bay sector, domestic to the most important Cajun-zydeco song scene outdoors the Gulf Coast. There she turned a prot?g? of well known accordionist Danny Poullard, a Louisiana-born Creole and the guiding spirit of the neighborhood Louisiana French song neighborhood. attractive, uplifting, and illuminating a special patch of the yank cultural panorama, Accordion desires is Kilpatrick's account of the potential for ardour, risk-taking, and change--at any age. Blair Kilpatrick has an autonomous perform in psychotherapy within the San Francisco Bay zone. 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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By way of age thirty-nine, Blair Kilpatrick had settled into lifestyles as a training psychologist, spouse, and mom. Then an opportunity stumble upon in New Orleans became her global the wrong way up. She lower back domestic to Chicago with not going new passions for Cajun track and its defining tool, the accordion. Captivated through habitual goals of enjoying the Cajun accordion, she got down to grasp it.
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Extra info for Accordion Dreams: A Journey into Cajun and Creole Music
But I was on a quest, and I figured Marc would solve the mystery, if anyone could. Marc wrote back immediately. He explained that I did indeed have an old instrument, predating the famed Monarch accordions by ten or fifteen years. If I opened it up, I would discover something similar to a harmonica: just two sets of reeds instead of the usual four, with each set mounted on a single plate, rather than individual ones. My accordion was a curiosity, perhaps a collector’s item—but it simply wasn’t a playable instrument.
If I had five days left to live, I’d give up three of them to spend the rest with you. I want to die in your arms. Those French words might sound melodious, but they couldn’t disguise the meaning behind the story: love and obsession, a volatile combination. Now the music began to paint pictures in my head: hard lives, lost loves, lonesome dangerous highways, times gone by. In some deep way these stories felt familiar—but for reasons I didn’t understand, because my own life seemed so different. I was a product of the industrialized North.
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.
Accordion Dreams: A Journey into Cajun and Creole Music by Blair Kilpatrick