The Burning of the Bird

I can’t believe I haven’t posted since Sandy.   That is much too long a silent stint , but time flies come November and it is hard to catch my breath.    Even as we speak, I have marshmallows firming up and cookies in the oven – it is a rainy day and life is good.  This holiday season started off with a bang with Thanksgiving 2012 a blockbuster blowout of gluttony and sloth in gross proportions.  We fried turkeys, we brewed beer, we laughed and drank and lived large.  We discussed everything from Al Jazeera taking over computers to arguing about bubble surface tensions to Kermit flying into lamp posts.  We covered a lot of ground.  S and I detoxed for a week after the house quieted.   

And now, the day after the Pville Firebird Festival, the Holiday Fete season has begun!  I posted a blurb last year about the firebird, but hands down, this year was even more entertaining.  Good friends came over about an hour before the burning of the bird and we had a few apps, a drink or two, and headed out with the rest of the town to partake in this most weird of town festivals.  The streets were filled with folks not only walking, but also trying in vain to find parking spots on the crowded streets.   A constant stream of people flowed from their cozy houses to join us as we walked downtown.   I’ve never seen so many people in Phoenixville.  The energy was high.  The soft evening air was full of chatter as we herded our way to cathartically watch a two story bird burn to the ground with 16,000 of our neighbors.      

 

That’s right.   SIXTEEN THOUSAND people were expected and I’d wager that was about right.  We were a sea of humans moving to the beat of the drum circle and chanting Burn the Bird.  It was a blast and boy did it burn.

 

Welcome to the Holidays, everyone.  

Liebert's Virtuosity

Nestled between Otis Redding and Outkast on my iPod, one can find Ottmar Liebert.  I have a wide variety of musical interests, but frankly, before last evening, Mr. Liebert didn’t get much play;  and when he did, there were candles lit and I had other things on my mind.   After seeing him with his guitar in the quartet of outstanding musicians last night at the Colonial Theatre, Ottmar will find himself in more than just the late-night rotation.

It was a damn fine day.  I left work early, had a gin and tonic with lunch, enjoyed a deep tissue massage, and had an as-always-awesome meal at Marly’s.  I could get used to days like that.  Mr. Liebert topped the day off and played with perfection.  He made the guitar sing and dance and speak in a way that gave me an entirely new understanding of the flamenco style. It was as if he were dancing himself.

As he tapped his bare feet to the beat, his hands flew-- merging baselines, and countertempos, and gracenotes, and 32^nd notes, and percussional harmonies into a confluency of auditory and visual art.  Golpe, Picado, Rasqueado, Alzapua, Tremolo.  Even the language of Flamenco is beautiful.  It was virtuosity.  It was fluidity.  It was joy.

Phoenixville Firebird Burning Bright

 Phoenixville burns with creativity.  I have been a fan of my little town since I moved here; and it just keeps getting better and better.  You gotta’ love a town that every year builds a wooden structure in an open town space for all to gather ‘round as they set it on fire (the fire department is out in force just in case).  I would wager other communities have something similar, but around here, there is nothing like it.  Tonight, the firebird burned brightly and brought the masses out in the cold winter weather.

My first festival involved only a few hundred people, a wobbly wooden structure, and was many years ago when I first moved to Phoenixville. Tonight:  Thousands of people showed and that bird was SOLID.  Three stories tall, it held a glowing ball in its beak in the waning light and the crowd was massive.  I’ve never seen so many people in Phoenixville.  Chants began about 30 minutes before the lighting:  Burn the Bird – Burn the Bird.  The excitement was contagious.

With Vega resting behind the bird, the flame arrived from its march through town and the bird was ceremoniously set on fire.  I was right up close there with the best of them and once that thing started throwing flames, we were no longer cold - in fact, it was HOT.  Heat radiated from the beast and ash and embers began to fall on the crowd.  No one seemed to mind and I was happy to have my hat on so I could concentrate on the fire instead of protecting my brain from burning debris.

 

As the bird fell in pieces and toppled inwardly, the crowd cheered and drums sounded.  It was a very primal experience in the middle of a town in Eastern Pennsylvania.  Great job Phoenixville!  Way to ring in the season of light.