Photo by Jussi Petäjä.
Written by Ville Kangas
Well, back in the 1980s and 1990s, when the cavalcades were at the Rock Pavilion, the “back room” was under the stage in the foundations of the house, on bare bedrock. It was fun there as a kid when the old players talked nice, had a cigarette, got a soda themselves and everyone's violin cases were next to each other on the bare rock. We'd go outside for a smoke so the whole place wouldn't burn down. I didn't, but the parents did.
The long crabs were hauled up to the side of the stage whenever there was a turn to play. Unless you were ordered to sit on stage for the whole show. During the dress rehearsals, the director didn't have all the pages of the script together, but the first show always went well and the audience loved it.
One summer, when I was a kid, I had a part where I had to sit there at the front of the stage for the whole two hours and every once in a while I had to go and play. All you were allowed to do was be under the stage at the beginning and at the end, talking nice. The rehearsals went on just like before. At the general rehearsal, I didn't have all the pages of the script together yet. But the playing was a real piece of cake. But, oh, then I got a bad cold. My eyes were bleeding and my nose was running - almost to my knees. I had to sneeze and sneeze all the time. Then I sat there at the front of the stage for the show.
I went to the doctor. I explained that I had an important job at the Kaustinen Festival and I had to do this and that and so on and so forth several times during the week. The doctor wondered, in long thought, whether it was at the Kaustinen festival, whether it was there. Well, the caller must have a cure, so as not to ruin the cavalcade, the doctor finally said. Let's put you on this medicine, you take it before the performance and the disease disappears completely for a few hours. You never prescribe this kind of thing for a cold patient, but now that it's so important, I'll make an exception," said the doctor.
I went home to bed. Nothing came of the festival. Then, at the appointed time before the cavalcade began, I took the medicine prescribed by my doctor. And bam, the disease disappeared completely, just as promised. The nose dried up, the sneezing stopped.
I sat there healthy as a lark for the whole show and played the programme numbers. The old players were taking a nap under the stage and talking nicely. It was nice. The show went well, even though I hadn't got the script together yet at dress rehearsals. Like never before. A few hours after the show, the flu returned. I went home to sleep.
I will do the same for the following presentations. The audience loved the cavalcade. The old timers were having a blast. There were dozens of violin cases lined up on the bare rock and funny stories were told. I still have no idea what the medicine was. But something of the sort that is only prescribed to gamblers, during the Kaustinen Festival.
Ville Kangas
The author is a composer and violinist/multi-instrumentalist from Kaustis who is releasing a new album this week called Plastic Fiddle Band. The album will soon be available on all the great streaming services on the internet. Visit www.villekangas.net to listen to a sample. The release party is - how could it be - at the Kaustinen party at the Kalliopaviljong Club on Saturday.