Have you ever tried to fit a marimba into a 90s model Camry? No, me neither, but it can apparently be done. Elena, Sylvan, and I watched a man (a marimbist?) pulling the last of his accessories — blocks of wood, drumsticks with yarned-over hitting ends, a Hansen’s soda — out of his car in preparation for some busking on the Park Blocks in Portland last week. His marimba, half as tall as the Camry, stood on the sidewalk. Live music grabs Sylvan and holds him close, so we stayed and waited for the concert to begin.
The marimba player, Michael Charles Smith, played songs from his new album, Melodies for Wooden Children. Marimba Mike named each piece as he played. If Sylvan missed the song title, he asked me what it was. I don’t pay much attention to much of anything anymore, as my dear husband will tell you, so I made up some song titles. I’m sure Sylvan noticed, but he played along. I mean, he does the same thing himself. These are the tracks from Sylvan’s latest album, played on harmonica and ukulele (not at the same time, but he’ll eventually get one of those Dylan harmonica stands):
- The bugs catch me
- Stars in jar
- Pillows catch the chair
- Giraffes catch the arm
- Chairs dump over
- Switches reach the ceiling light
- Saker Jones