Ah, yes. Pennsic. It’s been a few weeks, and I’ve been re-integrating with the world. But I want to take some time to reflect on it at least a little.
Overall, my war was less busy than usual. I had been busy finishing the release of the Hold the Door Open album when the signups to teach had been going on, so I just accepted that I wasn’t going to teach classes this year. I still had other responsibilities. Thursday of Peace Week, I emceed our camp’s annual Chocolate Bardic. On Wednesday of War Week, I got to be a panelist in the Bardic Symposium session, “Home Recording and You”, which involved some great conversations. Just for fun, I did make it out to the Sunday afternoon Runestone Bardic for the first time in a few years (a little more on that later). In addition, I had three significant performance opportunities during war.
Last year, Lady Sile Dhubh won a private concert from me in an online kingdom auction. She opted to donate my concert to the collected baronage of the East Kingdom for their House Runnymede dinner on middle Sunday. It is known to be a very high-end event, and a number of people were impressed when they heard I would be performing there. And it was lovely to see the East Kingdom Royal encampment decked out, for cocktails and a multi course dinner. As it happens, I have gotten to know many of our barons and baronesses over the years, and it was gratifying to see a number of them perk up when I was introduced. (The performers for this dinner, all of them known for their talents, generally provide background music without fanfare, but as Mistress Deonna von Aachen explained to the guests, my performance was being offered as a special gift for the assemblage.) The theme for this year’s dinner was 14th century, and I introduced “I Must Be Silent” with an explanation of how the piece and its source inspiration bracketed the 14th century on either side (Thomas of Ercildoun, the historical Thomas the Rhymer, passed in 1297 according to records, and the earliest manuscript copy of The Romance of the Thomas the Rhymer dates to 1401). I had a lot of fun sharing the piece with them, and it was well received.
Another major part of this Pennsic was my close friend Silence de Cherbourg’s induction into the Order of the Laurel. Her vigil was held Middle Sunday evening, and the elevation ceremony took place Wednesday morning of War Week in a special morning court. Silence did me the tremendous honor of asking me to boast her into court, in song if possible…and, well, go head, twist my arm.
For those who haven’t seen it, the Peer-to-be is processed into court, preceded by their household and other chosen worthies, for this special audience with their Majesties. A herald (or sometimes a bard) leads the procession, sharing the noteworthy accomplishments and accolades of the person being welcomed into the prestigious order. (My boast was sung, to the tune of Mistress Rosalind Jehanne’s famous song “The Peasant Knight” (music here), with Roz’s enthusiastic consent. The words can be found here.) I have had a few opportunities to boast folks into court, but this was probably my favorite.
Silence richly deserved this honor, and most of her SCA and non-SCA family was there. She is a bard with deep ties to Atlantia and Aethelmearc, so the court included many bards I love and admire. I am okay with “good choice to boast someone in with original lyrics” being part of my brand.
Which brings us to the other big performance, my farewell concert on Tuesday night of War Week. This was a follow up to my concert last year, when I was fortunate enough to open for Marian of Heatherdale, who of course packed the house. Marian is a dear friend who enjoyed that concert, then blessed me with some unexpected words, and a publicly presented ring, before the start of her own set.
I knew going in that the memory of that concert was going to be a tough (probably impossible) moment to follow. This Pennsic overall had somewhat lower head count than last year; many international Scadians, including Marian, did not attend. This year, I had a Tuesday night slot at 9 pm, which meant after dark, normally an auspicious slot. So, let’s talk about the rose and the thorn, as it were.
The rose: The people in attendance were an eager and enthusiastic audience, and they fed back the energy I put out. I made the call to bring on a musical guest mid-set, and it was the right call. A young bard I had met at Runestone Bardic named Taran na Ceol made an impression on me, and when I made the late decision to invite a guest, they didn’t hesitate. They’re a seasoned, confident, and delightful performer, but less experienced in SCA circles, so it was an opportunity to give them a chance to try out this performance space. With Taran’s energetic help, I delivered the best concert I knew how to give, and this audience deserved no less. (Feel free to check it out if you missed it.)
The thorn: The audience was enthusiastic…and small. My timeslot ended up being, through no one’s fault, something of a blast zone of scheduling conflicts: Both East Kingdom and Aethelmearc courts were still running (which meant I couldn’t be at court to see my friend and fellow performer, Aneleda Falconbridge, receive the Tyger of the East there). All Star Commedia, which would normally be an end of the evening anchor show drawing in a crowd for opening acts, was now also going on at 9 pm down in the bog, and there were at least half a dozen bardic circles going on. Instead of opening for a bigger act, I was closing the house at 10 pm, and a lot of people at Pennsic had other places to be.
The turnout was, in a word, humbling. It reminded me of the other reason I wanted to step down from doing shows in that space. It’s basically a theater in a tent with about 300 seats, and I don’t know how to not be emotionally invested in the size of the audience. But I’m not a headliner. I don’t perform throughout the year the way devoted concert performers do. So I don’t have much control over how big an audience will turn out in this space. It’s mostly dependent on circumstance and who I get to open for.
I’m never going be a headliner, in the SCA or probably anywhere else. There really are no shortcuts to building a big audience that will turn out regularly to see me perform. That’s just reality. But when I spend most of my Pennsic trying to prep and worrying about my voice…a mostly empty house can be a hard way to finish the event.
If want to perform a set at Pennsic in the future (and doing a full set really does feed me in a meaningful way), I’ll want to look at maybe doing a private concert in a camp again. Those are always a pleasure. The energy is so relaxed and welcoming. There’s more room to engage the audience, there’s no sweating under hot lights, there’s no sense of pressure. A crowd of a dozen or twenty people, in a camp, feels wonderfully full. Feels more my speed going forward. (I have gotten a feeler or two about being a guest in someone else’s show, and I wouldn’t say no to that if it comes up.)
Pennsic is still magic. I gave some performances I’m really proud of, I got to see people I never get to see anywhere else. (I miss Toki so much I can taste it.) It was a good war. And you can’t have a rose without thorns.
Drake Oranwood 