Flimsy Whimsy: Folk
Iâ€™ve never deciphered why they call folk music that. What folk is it for? Isnâ€™t all music folk music? Isnâ€™t country music written and played for country folk? Isnâ€™t rock music put together for rock people? Some obscure indescribable word that fits that equally not definable category of any music that isnâ€™t something else? You get what I mean, maybe?
Itâ€™s not that I donâ€™t appreciate folk music. I think I do. This is proven out by the occasional occurrence when Jane, a co-worker, puts the radio on. She listens to music and also knows stuff about it. I hear something that induces a gentle wave down my spine and I ask, â€śWhat kind of music is that?â€ť I do this two or three times a month. Iâ€™m an elderly man and my memory is failing me. But I still have ego. Time hasnâ€™t faded that.
Then she replies all too knowledgeably, â€śFolk music.â€ť
â€śOh,â€ť I reply, with the tone that implies that I understand completely. But when Jane looks back with that odd expression of hers, I know my faked tone wasnâ€™t close. Not even as good as my phony French accent. She uses her powerful womanâ€™s intuition and facial expression reading skills to tell I didnâ€™t get it, so she explains it.
â€śFolk music is pretty eclectic,â€ť she says.
Not wishing to be rude, I say, â€śYes, it is.â€ť I have no clue what eclectic means.
â€śEclectic means diverse,â€ť she says.
So I just change the flow to attempted humor which I think Iâ€™m better at than music. â€śSo itâ€™s that hippy yuppy artsy fartsy feelgood half bluesy twangy cultural stuff with a beat?â€ť
She smiles. â€śYou got it! Except for the twangy.â€ť
Pleased, I saunter away. I turn and sheâ€™s still shaking her head.