This ... I won't say schizoid, but multi-faceted programming ethos led us to the following slice of mainstage schedule during our appearance there: the Alex Meixner Band, Dick Contino, the Creaking Planks, Duckmandu... bang bang all lined up in a row just like that. Now the first and second pairs have some internal consistency in terms of tone, but the gulf between the two pairs seems insurmountable. Emerging from the Italian community around Fresno, a young Dick rose to prominence winning the Horace Heidt variety shows and spinning it into charismatic stardom on radio and TV, appearing on the Ed Sullivan show a record 48 times. His trademark number "Lady of Spain", performed with his distinctive bellows shake technique, became a solid gold accordion old guard cliche. (Our solution to bridge the gap was to poach half of Alex's band -- hello out there to Matt Tolentino!)
As a scholar of accordion history, I owned several of his albums on vinyl -- presenting him as what he was, the difficult-to-parse-today bona fide accordion sex symbol that he was -- and gingerly packed them along on the airplane south in strange hopes of somehow getting him to autograph them backstage at Cotati when our paths crossed. Instead, my time before our set was spent desperately sniffing around the festival grounds in search of an accordion to borrow, as the kindly Tarkin-lent antique I'd taken custody of two nights before had crumbled in my hands the previous night in Santa Rosa, forcing me to temporarily squeeze myself into Amber Lee's heart-bellowed squeezebox. Fortunately for the Creaking Planks, our Victoria-based friends at Tempo Trend were improbably vending at this festival, and were willing to lend Blackbox Squeezebeard an instrument on indefinite loan for that afternoon's set, another that night at the Revolution Cafe in San Francisco and the following night at Peri's in Fairfax. Just bring it back to us next time you're in Victoria, they said. I guess when you're made of accordions, the fate of one particular instrument is ultimately of little import. They got mad props from my profuse on-stage thanks, and the whole fest got a set it wouldn't soon forget>. And I never did get those albums autographed by Dick Contino. (There he is, sandwiched between the cello and mandolin! Thanks for the photo, Rachel!)










