We Live In The Same Town...

The crowd at Top of the Park tonight is small, straggling in from places that are safely roofed and away from the rain. There are college students emerging from the beer tent, and some stodgier types wiping off the chairs to sit down. Erin Zindle has maracas in her hands and her voice is pulling people from the damp folding chairs to the open space in front of the stage. The Ragbirds are a band with a lot of rhythm, and 'Jump In The Line' (more familiarly, perhaps, as 'Shake Sonora' from the end of the movie Beetlejuice) is a tune that makes a body want to dance. The two sets of drums—one very African looking, the other a traditional drum-set—are full of propulsion; with the bass, they produce the rhythmic pulse that is the underlying structure of the tune. Around me there are loose limbs, arms and legs and hips moving in response.

There are other songs, other moments in this performance where I am unable to escape the rhythm and the dusky sound of Erin Zindle’s voice. She is the catalyst here, a presence full of verve and joy, lighting up the unadorned but serviceable lyrics. Singing with a violin under her chin or a mandolin in her hands, her voice is bouyant, balanced, and touched with fluff. A butterscotch smile up on stage, she is supported vocally by the harmonies of guitar player T.J. Zindle and bassist Dan Hildebrandt. She's the recognizable face of the Ragbirds, with a seemingly endless supply of energy and enthusiasm spilling into her performances, which is especially noticeable when it's live.

There's an explanation for the Tarantella, offered up by Erin Zindle before the song is begun. It's a folk dance originating in Italy, meant to rid oneself from a spider's poison by a fast and wild dance. The Ragbirds, drawing on one of their many cultural influences from around the world, created their own version that begins with a draggingly slow introduction—but I can feel the moment approaching when the tempo will pick up. Erin caught the attention of the listeners with her short explanation, and they are swaying in close attention, waiting for that faster tempo. When it comes, the whirl of dancers starts to move. The tempo speeds up, and control of my body is given over to the experience of the music coming frantically off the stage.

At Top of the Park, the Ragbirds are in their home territory. Despite an apparent propensity to travel, Ann Arbor is their base. With Ypsilanti only a few steps to the east, it’s only natural to hear their ‘Ypsilanti Song’ at this performance. It’s catchy, with repeating rhythms and words; but what makes it near and dear to me is the silly reason that Ypsilanti is my current hometown. It’s not as charming if I’m hearing it via video or performance—the human element is missing, and the beat doesn’t fall as insistently against my collarbones—but who doesn’t want to be sung a song about their hometown by a cutely-pigtailed woman with that blend of rhythm behind her?

This performance was July 8th, 2010.