Hang around the parking lot for an hour or so after any CIMA-concert
performance and one can witness a semi-organized war-roomish huddle, actually a
gathering of Gatherings' volunteers haphazardly determining a plan of action.
"Lucky" volunteers among the mass are dismissed to partake in the parade of
vehicles destined for WXPN, where artists are regularly shoveled into the
studios in a rapid attempt to complete audio-equipment setups while facing
another
rapidly approaching STAR'S END concert deadline. This squadron consists of
volunteers who, technically speaking, know what they're doing; I've yet to
have been placed on this "A" team, and deservedly so. Team two is then directed
to vehicle-march many-a-city-block west, to Upper Darby, where concert
lighting and sound equipment is carefully carried into storage at a facility
securely enforced by one Nick the Cat. These volunteers must be quick and
brawny,
as much work needs to be accomplished in rapid-fire fashion in order to make
it back to the WXPN studio in time to "chow" and then doze through the
above-mentioned STAR'S END concert. I rarely qualify for this "B" team, as
well.

At the breakup of last Saturday night's huddle, after tactical-team
decisions had been made, one person remained -- "me" -- and this fellow was
again
sent blindly out into the Penn Campus on a midnight-hour forage for food to
feed
all concerned.

Ten minutes later, sweating profusely, I pointed to the guy about to lock
the door on the one still-open pizzeria and shouted, "Don't you dare!"
Slithering up to the counter I mentioned to the restless pizza clerk that I had
one
hungry Norwegian and a horde of starving American concert hosts & volunteers.
"Give me two of the biggest pies your oven can handle." Twenty minutes
later I noticed an employee open a wall-sized window (which advertised "wørld's
largest pizza," followed by three exclamation points) via a sophisticated set
of hinges. I inquired of the white-capped fellow, "Why, pray tell, are you
opening that huuuuuuuuuuuuge window?"

"You'll see."

I saw. The pizzas I was about to log several city blocks were too big to
fit thru the front door.

"Nice job!" said the gang of hungry volunteers after I drove the pies into
the back door of the XPN studio (the Caterpillar forklift was hijacked from a
construction site on 35th and Chestnut; since returned). Erik Wøllo (who
offered us an early evening and late night of the most unpretentious, lovely
music we've heard in these parts in a very long time) presented the best
technique in downing the yard-long slices. He lifted an entire sliver of pie
over
his head and drooped it toward his throat much in the manner one might expect
to witness while examining an expert ingest a still-flapping herring.

Soon after, the pies miraculously consumed, the 2am radio performance
ensued, and, as if the performance Mr. Wøllo graced us with a few hours
previous at
St. Mary's wasn't beautiful enough, the artist laid down a perfect nightcap
to a wonderful day. Saturday gave us a night filled with finesse-filled sonic
imagination. Those who attended the St. Mary's Gatherings' concert were
brought to their feet at the end of a trio of Wøllo's musical journeys. We
stood
and applauded, not as a result of the typical adrenaline rush one often
obtains during an uplifting concert experience, but for reasons totally the
opposite. I have tried to compare this rising to the four days of rain which
had
just dampened the East Coast, and the breath of freshness that encompassed
the air thereafter. Wøllo's music was refreshing -- the listener simply
drifted along with his meandering pieces. At the conclusion of the evening's
first set, the quietest of sounds and simplest of visions produced emotions
within this listener as powerful as any the concert series has produced. The
electric guitar weighs both heavily and lightly in Wøllo's compositions,
producing myriad ranges of tone and effect. Visuals shared onscreen behind
Wøllo
throughout surely mirrored his inspirations; actual and animated sequences of
Norwegian landscapes -- ice, mountain, fjords -- enhanced the artist's spell.

Sadly, the fires in southern California prevented Spotted Peccary from
shipping a supply of CDs to Philadelphia for us Gatherers to purchase. Also,
fewer than one would hope were able to attend the Wøllo show.

How personal perspectives change -- a "supergroup" recently appeared in
Philadelphia, a band I used to love, and the concerts sold-out three shows,
with
tickets at a near-$100 price tag. I opted not to attend, and have since
heard a recording of this concert. What was I hearing? Meanwhile, an obscure
artist crosses the pond to perform magically in front an ever-appreciative
number merely in the dozens; the ticket price will go umentioned here, but,
rest
assured, nobody gets rich -- only enriched, one can hope. One can also only
wish Erik Wøllo returned home feeling nearly as enchanted as did those with
whom he shared his wonderful music.




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