This month, Cultureweek writers Dawn Shanks and Ben Black review Aimee Bender’s 2000 novel An Invisible Sign of My Own

Aimee Bender is an heir to the tradition of the fairy tale and arguably America’s best answer to magical realism. Her stories are filled with unusual characters in compromising situations, always with a touch of the unreal, and even the surreal: potatoes turn into children, a man reverses through the evolutionary scale, a boy has keys for fingers. No matter how strange and altered her characters, humanity shines through, and ultimately Bender’s stories show us ourselves, coping as best we can.

Mona Gray is the off-beat protagonist in Invisible Sign. The novel is written in a first person, present tense, nearly stream of consciousness style. All signs point to her having a normal life ‘til about age 10, when her father gets sick. After that she seems to curl in on herself with some particularly odd and disturbing personality traits. She knocks wood, she quits things, she recoils from human interaction in general. This weird lady with a love of numbers fittingly becomes a math teacher (hold your breath during each classroom scene, for both the teacher’s and the children’s sake; these are some weird pupils, too). Math teacher meets science teacher, ponders the curious sensations that come from axes and soaps, and hovers quaking over each of her stalemated relationships. The resolution is as beautifully ordinary, as exquisitely anticlimactic as the ending to her father’s fairy tale that also serves as the novel’s prologue.

Dawn Shanks: First off, I found the lack of quotation marks, or any punctuation for the dialogue, for that matter, to be distracting and kind of gimmicky. Just like some of the main character, Mona’s, neuroses. The sort of things that make elegant imagery, but not a very savory story.

Ben Black: That’s funny, I didn’t notice that at all until you brought it up. But those sort of unconventional punctuation quirks never bother me anymore after reading so much strange and unconventional experimental literature. Which neuroses did you find gimmicky?

Dawn: Enough bragging about how well-read you are. Bender makes her dialogue a blurry slow churn without any quotation marks or other indications, which I suppose is one respectable aesthetic, but I’m a sucker for crisp, punchy back-and-forths. Gimmicky neuroses? She eats soap. She knocks on things all the time. She consistently quits everything. Why didn’t her loving parents notice that their sole child needed therapy? Reality was suspended for the sake of fairytale imagery.

Ben: You seem to have missed the point of the book. The entire thing is meant to read like a fairy tale. This is not a story out of the realism tradition. It’s not meant to mimic real life, except on an emotional level. The soap and the knocking and the quitting all have a purpose within the story. They make sense to the characters in the world which they live. And even setting that aside, I don’t see the quirks as that unrealistic. People obsessively knock on wood all the time. People do quit everything they start. And the soap? Well, it’s called avoidance. It’s all a little strange and altered but it mimics our world in order to comment on it.

Dawn: Most children’s fairy tales were, once upon a time, allegories for something real that was going on in the world. Ms. Bender’s novel is weird for the sake of being weird. There are glistening moments, for sure: smoke filled bubbles and pas de duxes with axes, but too much of it comes off as heavy handed surrealism that would have drawn me in at a younger age, but today makes me want to sit the author down with a stack of modern British literature to show her how it’s really done.

Ben: I could just as well sit her down with a stack of Magical Realists like Borges and Calvino and show her how she’s on exactly the right track. I’m a little baffled by your demand for realism. How could a person, after reading the introductory parable and the first sentence of the story proper, (On my twentieth birthday, I bought myself an ax.) expect a realistic story? You’re holding the book to a set of internal standards which it neither meets nor attempts to meet. In the altered words of Obi-wan, this is not the book you’re looking for. The book has a different set of goals in mind. Tastes aside, a book must be judged by whether or not it accomplishes what it sets out to do, which I believe this one does.

Dawn: I’m not braying stolidly for realism, I’m saying that for this reader, art imitates life and the good art, the really good art touches upon it so eerily well you’re stirred to enter that art’s world- - with Invisible Sign there was a lack of that touch-and-go. What I mean to say is through a good two-thirds of the novel, the reader cannot readily sympathize or empathize with its protagonist, and if Ms. Bender is going to create a story that radiates around that person, she’s already got her work cut out for her. I’m not familiar with her other works, so maybe she’s distilled her style a bit by now; I hope so.

Ben: The art of Invisible Sign DOES imitate life, but like other works of surrealism the life it is mimicking is a sub-level of emotional life. Is Dali’s artwork full of apparently unnecessary randomly placed objects? Perhaps, but his paintings accurately portray an emotional sense which is present in the viewer if they are willing to encounter it. The same is true of this novel, which is really about the human coping with death. The characters in this novel may not appear to act or even exist in a way that seems logical, but I still contend that the logic within the novel makes sense to its characters.

Dawn: Bender may have filled her room with carefully placed objects, but I kept stubbing my toes on them. But, like I said, sometimes it did click. “Anne was lifted onto a stretcher…she went by my door, bloody, wailing, getting drawings piled on her by the art class…here Ann, a pony; here, Anne, a flower…as she exited, I heard Ann wail, through her sobs: This doesn’t look anything like a pony.” These sort of touches add whimsy to her modern day “fairy tale” as you put it.

Ben: I will say this of her: she is a fabulist. Fables and fairy-tales are by their nature short, so she is better as a short story writer, where her style, which is the same as in her novel, really shines because of brevity and an increased clarity of purpose.

Dawn: Is there a certain work where readers can really see her in her element, really see her shine?

Ben: Willful Creatures and The Girl in the Flammable Skirt. Those are her two short story collections.

Dawn: So you admit Bender flailed a tad with the full-sized novel?

Ben: Oh, yes. But she flailed less than I expected her to going into it.

Dawn: I want to add my overall impression of it, now that I’ve made myself the bad guy in my screaming for quotation marks. Over half of this novel is a nosedive-but what a nosedive! It’s the most beautiful creature, unearthly, making graceful twists and turns in its decent, plumage rippling, eyes watery but wide open. At the bottom of its nosedive, the reader can already see an imminent splat, and the plea with each turn of the page goes completely ignored by the creature.

It’s only in the last moment does the novel pull gracefully out of its swan dive, to the relief of the readers. The protagonist gets over herself, has a catharsis with Oz-like Mr. Jones, finds love and reconnects with her parents - no limbs were lost in the reading of this novel. But once that’s done, it’s time to say goodbye. Deus ex machina? Not quite but a hair’s-breadth away.

Final Verdict: A second read is more enjoyable than the first, but the first time around is an exhilarating adrenaline rush, if you can refrain from mentally flicking the protagonist in the head.

Ben: Overall, this is a satisfying read. Bender’s style is simple but powerful and her story is filled with just enough oddity to keep the reader guessing. Ultimately the book ends on a note of hope, leaving the reader to imagine how Bender’s awkward, broken characters will gather their lopped off parts and begin to heal. It’s a pleasant sort of wonder, as the novel’s final story brings Mona out of her fearful, superstitious world and into one where maybe, in her own way, she can be happy.

Next month’s review: What I’d Do to the Martians: And Other Veiled Threats, by Jack Handey. If you’d like to read it and submit your opinions of this novel to be published, please email editor(at)cultureweek(.)com before October 25!

My best friend of 10 years asked if he could use my car to go to Ohio. “Not unless you return it with a full tank asshole,” I replied sharply. Back in the day, when gas was barely over a dollar a gallon, I would have hardly cared if he came back with only a half-full tank of gas. If he did that now, I would sue him, and probably look into a way to have him arrested for grand theft auto. It’s a shame high gas prices have turned me into a shell of the person I was before.

My friend Tosha also had a recent quarrel with her best friend and roommate Stacy over the use of her car. As the argument escalated, Tosha punched Stacy in the mouth, because “that bitch didn’t need the car.”

“She was just going to use the car to see some random guy she met on the internet,” Tosha said.
“I told her to just walk, and when she told me it was 50 miles, I told her that it was my car and I didn’t give a shit how far it was.”

After the fight, Stacy was going to go to the hospital for stitches, but upon calling the hospital, they also told her to walk because the ambulance wasn’t running that day due to high gas prices.

According to psychology tests completed at Western Tumbleweed University in New Mexico, this type of behavior mirrors the often-times selfish behavioral patterns expressed in players of the game Monopoly.

“We are noticing the first stages of economic tension between lower and middle class subjects,” says Dr. Ziggy Freud, the head behavioral psychology researcher at the university. “If gas prices continue to rise, eventually these subjects will begin murdering each other for food.”

Dr. Freud was quick to point out that while he didn’t know of any particular case where Monopoly players cannibalized each other, he says if participants were playing with real money they would “most definitely slay each other.”

Harvey “Bones” Smith, janitor at the famed Tumbleweed Psychology Facility, admits gas prices have made him a little less friendly this past year.

“I didn’t used to mind it much when students and co-workers asked for a ride home,” Bones says. “But now I tell them that my wife is in the hospital and I need to leave right away.”

Bones acknowledges that people probably don’t believe his story, but says it keeps them from asking for a ride a second time.

According to a poll sponsored by Kibbles ‘n Bits, 85 percent of those polled say they would commit murder in exchange for a tank of gas. The other 15 percent were either doctors or lawyers who made their money by stealing from the other 85 percent.

Kibbles ‘n Bits gave participants of the poll a coupon for $1 off their new product, Puppy Chow Vanilla Wafers.

Asked when this behavioral experiment would conclude, Dr. Freud says there is no end in sight

Schmidt, a Manhattan native who had never seen a destitute person before coming to Bloomington for college, admitted that she is not quite used to the Midwestern lifestyle.  “Everyone is poor and stupid, and their handbags are knockoffs.”

Schmidt is just one of hundreds of East Coasters trying to get settled into the South-Central Indiana scene, where the natives make up for their bad hygiene by being extremely polite.  The discomfort seems to be a mutual feeling, though, as local folk grow more and more suspicious of the outsiders on a daily basis.

“Most of them are packed together in Smallwood, which reeks of Banana Republic and ‘new car daddy gave me’ smell” says IU junior Miina Rhodes. A native of Indianapolis, she used to be the one that could feel smug about the quaintness of Bloomington, now no more.  “I live on campus, and try to steer clear of them when they walk through campus oblivious, texting away on their blackberries, and will them to smack right into a limestone wall.”

Rhodes’s distaste for East Coasters is echoed by Bloomington native, Johnny Joe Johnson, a cutoff shorts enthusiast.  “I heard some of ‘em ain’t never been in a Steak ‘n Shake,” related Johnson.  “And their donuts aren’t fried, they’re toasted.  It’s weird.”

These toasted donuts are actually called bagels, and they comprise half of the East Coasters’ diets.  The other half is made up mostly of cigarettes and cocaine.  “It’s annoying trying to shop for food here,” stated Joey Gotti, a Bronx native and arrogant prick.  “All they have is corn pone and Mountain Dew.”

This isn’t Gotti’s only problem with Bloomington, as his car has been keyed three times this month alone.  “Last week I was flying around in the helicopter my dad bought me for my half-birthday,” he said.  “I was just minding my own business, yelling at the local retards and occasionally peeing out the window onto them.  Then I saw one of them flipping me off.  He was just jealous because he drives, like, a pickup truck or something.
“When I landed, I saw that the tires on my Audi were slashed.  I was like, ‘What the hell?’”

When asked if he thought there might be some sort of correlation between his being a total bastard and his property being vandalized, Gotti crinkled his eyebrows inquisitively.  “I’m pretty sure it’s because I’m from the coast,” he said, right before putting his cigarette out in a stranger’s eye.  “I don’t know what else it could be.”

Candy Corn Bark
1 bag dark chocolate chips
1 bag white chocolate chips
1 bag candy corn

Here, readers, is where I’ll lead you astray if you follow my example. I grabbed two bags of dark-looking chips, because I personally think white chocolate is disgusting (when I got home I realized the chips I bought were actually “semi-sweet.” Close enough, right?). I begrudgingly picked up the candy corn too, which I haven’t eaten in 15 years because of a very traumatizing experience with them one Halloween.

Pumpkin Ice Cream

(You’ll need an ice cream maker for this one!)
15-oz can of pumpkin puree
1.5 cups cream

3/4 cups brown sugar
2 teaspoons pumpkin pie spice

1 t. vanilla extract
2 Tbsp. brandy

Now what the hell was this? Who under the age of 30 has an ice cream maker? It seems my co-editor was setting me up to fail. Three months ago, when we collaborated on creating “Citrus Wine Kebobs” for the Food section, the most I had contributed was letting Sarah use my charcoal grill. Now she trusted me with homemade ice cream? I again ignored the ingredients list and improvised.

Once at home, I quickly skimmed the full recipes, which I suppose I should have done before I even went shopping for ingredients, and started cooking (after downing a snifter of the brandy I had bought for the moral support pumpkin ice cream):

Melt the dark chocolate chips and white chocolate chips in separate pans.

Easy enough. I dumped the chips in a saucepan and fwooshed the gas stove to medium high. I stirred and the chips started sweating. Of course that was the moment I remembered hearing chocolate could only be melted in a double boiler, or it would burn. Oh no, oh no. A premonition of future offspring in Halloween costumes weeping as I flailed around a smoking pan of chocolate moved me to start fumbling around the cabinet for a pot for water. By the time I had found it, however, the chocolate on the stove had melted perfectly, no sign of inflammation. I quickly turned it over to the cookie sheet before it decided to change its mind.

And then I realized I should have read more carefully, because the next step was:

Once melted, spread the white chocolate onto a well-greased cookie sheet.

I was so frustrated with myself I couldn’t even swear; I just though of the little cartoon swear signs: #$%@*!.

Allow this to cool and harden (use the fridge or freezer to speed up the process) and then spread the next chocolate layer.

I all but threw the thing into my fridge, pulling out the stale ice cubes and frozen waffles to make space.

Before the dark chocolate hardens, press candy corn pieces into the chocolate, then allow your chocolate bark to harden.

I dutifully poured the candy corn bag over the chocolate, thus rendering it something I would never eat, ever.

Break or cut it into pieces, and enjoy!

Even if I wanted to break into pieces, I couldn’t because it is now fused to the bottom of the pan. The pan still sits in my rarely-used oven today; I keep forgetting to try and get it melty enough to scrape off.

Recipe Verdict: F minus. If done the way Sarah says to do it by someone who likes candy corn, it might be very good.

I have good news for the ice cream, however. I’ll post my alternate recipe here, in hopes that you’ll try it too; it’s very easy to make.

(Ingredients: Tub of homemade vanilla ice cream, 1 can pumpkin puree, cinnamon and brandy to taste)

Pull the ice cream out of the freezer and let it get soft, but not melted. Scoop out a portion into a bowl with a wooden spoon and add 2 tablespoons pumpkin puree per 1 cup ice cream. Mix until the ice cream is an even, creamy orange. Add cinnamon and brandy to taste. Scoop back into container or into a separate container and refreeze.

This went off without a hitch! Grade A, and as a bonus, a self esteem boost for this recipe user; maybe I’m not a complete bonehead in the kitchen after all!

Nick: So, Ben, what are you going as for Halloween?

Ben: You.

Nick: Me? What does that look like?

Ben: Well, it looks like me, but with a worse credit rating.

Nick: Ben, I refuse to believe that actions have consequences. That’s why I always eat at China Buffet.

Ben: Gross. Speaking of inter-racial relationships, our first film this month is Lakeview Terrace, the story of a young inter-racial couple that moves to Suburbia, next-door to a crazy cop played by Samuel L. Jackson, who is haunted by the memory of his wife being killed on a plane full of snakes.

Nick: Ben, I take this movie to be an allegory for how people are dealing differently with the current housing crisis: The young couple reacts by having sex in their outdoor pool; Sam Jackson reacts by becoming enraged and attempting to force them out of the neighborhood with escalating intimidation tactics; And God reacts by setting California on fire.

Ben: That’s God’s answer for everything.

Nick: This movie looks at another problem in our society: police officers. I mean, they’re everywhere, they’re armed, and they are not a big fan of my back-sass.

Ben: But, in their defense, your back-sass smells like Scotch and Dancing Tiger.

Nick: Touché. Our next film is the new Coen Brothers Oscar-follow-up Burn After Reading. Basically, what Joel Coen has done here, is make a movie about his wife, Frances McDormand, and her heroic attempt to get a boob job.

Ben: That’s romantic. McDormand works at a gym with Brad Pitt. A computer disc with cloak and dagger-seeming information is discovered in a changing room, having been left by retired CIA analyst John Malkovich, and frantic scheming ensues.

Nick: It’s nice to see that John Malkovich is still batshit crazy. Dude, his acting is to a normal person’s acting as the guy that played Wolverine’s acting is to an actual wolverine.

Ben: You said it. The best part of the movie was the two CIA guys in a room, trying to figure out what the hell is going on. Whereas unchecked power is played for fright in Lakeview Terrace, here it is played for comedy.  I had unchecked power once, but then I was fired from the Guardian Angels.

Nick: Yeah, they were intolerant of your frotteurism. It’s interesting that the Coen brothers’ movies tend to alternate between tragic and comic. Kind of like my bowel movements.

Ben: Wow. Another thing I liked about this movie was Russian spies, with faces like W. H. Auden, wearing suits and smoking. That was a fun part of the Cold War.  Another fun part of the Cold War was the much smaller size ratio between our bodies and Toys ’R’ Us.

Nick: As I recall, our preschool portion of the eighties was spent writing a cartoon-review column called Ben And Nick On Twin Roll-Out Rugs. I remember that I wrote of Mickey’s Christmas Carol: “This film’s saccharin sentimentality is about as believable as the predictions of Ronald Regan’s Trickle-Down economics.  Now somebody please help me go potty.”

Ben: Potty can be a challenge to master.

Nick: Ben, for some time now Bloomington Indiana has only been famous for two people: John Mellencamp and whatever hard-bodied co-ed in a thousand-dollar gown is vomiting into the moon-roof of an idling taxi.

Ben: But recently the Herald-Times conducted an interview with Mitch Reinholt. Mitch is currently a junior studying biochemistry at Indiana University. But in his youth, two years ago, he crushed the heart of a delicate flower of a young woman, and hey, who didn’t, but, like the L.A.P.D., his was caught on film.

Nick: American Teen follows the lives of several teens’ senior year of high school in the small town of Warsaw, Indiana. There’s a “geek”, and the “popular girl”, the “jock”—also a robot and a transvestite, I think. Hannah Bailey is the “Ally Sheedy.” It comes as a shock, then, to the high school caste system, when our man Mitch falls for Hannah and they become an unlikely couple, only for him to dump her later via text message.

Ben: I would never break-up with anyone via text message, unless I was using the cell-phone signal to activate some plastic explosives.

Nick: How chivalrous.

Ben: In Mitch’s defense, compared to the sadism and machinations of other teens at his school, this is pretty tame. I only bring it up because she was such a sweet character and if she’s reading this, or if Mitch would pass it along, I want to say that you should never give up on your dreams and though you might not be able to tell from our publicity photo, I am sporting a fully operational platter of manitalia.

Nick: Take it to Craigslist already; gross. More than anything, watching this movie felt illegal. I mean, we all agree that it would be creepy to stand across the street from a high school with binoculars, and that’s why I was asked to stop. But go and watch them make out on the big screen and suddenly my binoculars are giving me a headache.

Ben: I think this movie is the next logical step in America’s collective mental disorder that I’m going to go ahead and call “mefamous.” Symptoms include oversized novelty sunglasses and a zealous sense of well-being that, truthfully, no one deserves. It started with Myspace but in the future every greasy tweener will have her own Biography on A&E.

Nick: I disagree. There were sequences in this movie I found incredible poignant. And by poignant I mean horrifying. The saddest thing that I have ever seen was when Megan, the “popular girl,” got revenge on another girl, Erica, by e-mailing a topless photo of her to the whole school. She cries more than you did at this year’s BET Awards.

Ben: Hey, I was moved by Rihanna. Anyway, I don’t see what the big deal is. When I was in high school my sweetheart sent me a risqué photo that I’ve kept with me always.

Nick: Dude, are you carrying a wallet-sized nude minor?

Ben: No. I had it made into a key chain. I once took it out at the courthouse metal detector and a cadre of peace officers sticky foam gunned me to the ceiling.

Nick: No justice.

Ben: No peace.

How did you get started with working with the Lotus?

I grew up with a lot of world music. My dad played a lot of world music; he didn’t think of it as world music, he was from a different country. He was born in Germany, grew up in Switzerland and England and I was born in South America. So I had lots of different exposures. I started working for Lotus in the second year; a friend got me in to do artist hospitality. That was in 1995.

How would you explain the festival to someone new to Lotus this year?

It’s about world music but really diverse kinds of music. Mellow stuff and really strong dance beats, too. So it’s all kinds of music and it’s in a very small, concentrated location. It’s a smorgasbord.

A smorgasbord?  What keeps you coming back for more?

Loyalty? No… hmmm.  It’s like once you get into Lotus, it’s a really hard thing not be involved with.  I think I would have some kind of… What do you call it, like with drugs, when you get off drugs? Withdrawal.  I think I would have withdrawal if I stopped. And I’ve heard that from other people so I think that’s an element of it.

How do you get volunteers for Lotus?

Tamara: Well we get them many different ways. . .

Lee: We grow them!

Tamara: We have a table at the market every Saturday. We put some announcements on a couple of radio stations. We try to collaborate with some student groups.  The festival has grown so large we will probably have 470 volunteers this year; it’s enormous.  It’s not a small deal.

Why should people come to Lotus?

Best time in Bloomington all year. What happens on the streets, the physical environment of people, music blaring and folks swarming; really swarming up and down. It’s unlike any event, not just in Bloomington but in most towns you’ve been in because the whole downtown has its streets closed and covered with  banners and lots of visual splendor. It’s just like nothing else.

How did the name “Lotus” come about?

Well, we had the temporary name Bloomington World Music Festival.  One of the tasks was to think of the name. We had a meeting and were throwing out names, all the names you would think of for southern Indiana, but they were all bland and terrible.

For example…?

I’m not telling. I’m not embarrassing myself or any other committee member.

Ok,  ok…

But there was a man we all knew named Lotus Dickey. We all liked him as a person, not just as a musician. It just felt good to be around him. We started thinking about the Lotus flower which is a flower that grows all over the world including Indiana; a flower that has a different meaning for different cultures. So the name could represent the global perspective, with the flower and the Bloomington Southern Indiana perspective, with Dickey. Some people think that we named it after Lotus Dickey and some people think we named it after the flower. No, it’s both. That’s why it’s Lotus.

Where was the first festival?

The Waldron upstairs and the Waldron downstairs and that was it.

And surely since then it has grown.

It’s mostly the same as it was the first year. It’s still the same concept: you buy a ticket, get a wristband, you have access to all the music in a small confined area. The area is larger, there are more venues. But still it’s the same concept. Lotus is an indoor event primarily because I was the one who shaped that format. I worked as a volunteer at  rock festival called Hoosier Fest for five years; it doesn’t exist anymore, but all five years it rained and washed one of the days out. So that was damn frustrating. So when I started with Lotus I said “We are not doing that. Whatever we do with this festival, it’s not going to be susceptible to that.”

Has it ever rained during the festival?

Maybe only three or four times in all the years. We’ve had really good luck. Knock knock. There was almost a tornado one year. But for us, rain only means that people will get wet when they move from venue to venue. So they might stick around inside the venue.

Tyler Perry wrote our feature on Lotus Fest this month; turn to page 3 to find out all about it (and of what it is the namesake; here’s a hint, it’s not the flower).  I found out more about Louts performer Frigg on page 8, and Sarah Fargo rose to the occasion by not only interviewing Lotus volunteer coordinator Tamara Lowenthal, but Lee Williams, the director.  There’s also content about life outside the Lotus folds; page 12 yields several reasons why, even after a year with my own kitchen, I’ll never be a decent homemaker, and Ben and Nick bring the usual goodness to you on our last page.

I’m honored to work with a Cultureweek staff that not only humors my editorial exuberance, but brings that brainstorming to life.  Special thanks, like every month, go to my co-editor for bringing me back down to earth to make it in time for deadline.  More thanks go out this month to Luanne at Lotus, Liz at Rock Paper Scissors, Lucy and Abe at Secretly Canadian and Karl at MFT.  I’m signing off now, readers; in a year of writing for Cultureweek, the thrill that you’re reading these issues hasn’t dulled a bit.

Cheers,

Dawn K. Shanks

I was able to catch up with Antti Järvelä  of the Finnish string band Frigg.  The band is no stranger to Lotus Festival, but according to Antti, they’re still excited about their 2008 performance.  Throughout the interview, Antti kept me laughing but still had some very interesting outlooks on music and mission statements.   After listening to some of the band’s songs on myspace, I can only describe their sound as jolly, down-home and intricate, especially when it comes to the fiddling.  However, they more aptly describe their music as Kaustinen folk string music.  Kaustinen is an area in Finland known for its annual folk music festival.  Frigg will be performing October 2.  Anyone that spends 5 minutes listening to them isn’t immune to their infectious positive attitude and good vibes.  Read on:

Dawn: I wonder what was the impetus for naming the group Frigg? Is it after the goddess of fertility?  Is there another reason why you chose this name?

Antti: Just a coincidence with a dictionary even though the name kind of fits us because we’re still pretty young and fascinated about what we do.

Dawn: How is the dynamic between group members?

Antti: Getting better every year.

Dawn: Is it a serious group or are you guys always having fun?

Antti: Last year we toured the States for 6 weeks and no arguments at all! We’re really trying to have as much fun all the time as we can. Really a fantastic group to be on the road with.

Dawn: I had a feeling from your Myspace page, which says “Nordic Fiddling Fun!”  And you do tours in Europe and Australia as well?

Antti: In Europe, yes, but Australia is still waiting. We really want to go there soon, too. USA has been our main focus so far because we can basically go for one longer tour each year and the States has been kind of our #1 investment in past years. We’re about to focus more on Europe, too in the future.

Dawn: Tell me, what were your childhood experiences that led to you picking up the fiddle?  And why bass now?  And Estonian bagpipes—how did that come about?

Antti: There was a little reason called my parents.  They took me to have lessons from my uncle Mauno Järvelä (the father of Alina & Esko) when I was 4 years old. Mauno was then the leader of a youth group called  Järvelän Näppärit and with that group we also did our first trip to the USA ever. In the group there were mainly fiddle players accompanied by some older guys from the local village-scene and also some professional musicians–Timo Alakotila (a member of JPP etc.), to mention one.  Later on when the older folks couldn’t join every rehearsal some of us started playing the reed organ, guitar and the bass. My second instrument was actually the mandolin - after mandolin I picked the guitar and last but not least came the bass when I was in my late teenage.  Petri, Frigg’s mandolin and cittern player,  started playing Estonian bagpipes at some point after discovering Finnish folk music. He must have liked the sound (also some of his early friends from the folk music scene - one to mention again - Kurt Lindblad - played the Estonian bagpipes).

Dawn: What a list! I wish we saw some of these instruments in music in the States.

Antti: There has been also some Finnish bagpipes, but it’s been only some prototypes rebuilt during the few past years. Petri is pretty desperate to show off with the Finnish bagpipes because in the fashion world he might not have such a chance, I suppose…

You have such a great traditional scene also in the States if you go a bit deeper from the surface. In the counterpoint of 19th and 20th century there were lots of people all around  northern Europe moving to the States and really bringing a huge variety of different musical styles and instruments to melt together on the new continent.

Dawn: However, I fear there isn’t much variety in our popular music scene today.  I’m glad to have a good college radio station in my town.

Antti: The pop scene is 90% about business. But as we’ve seen, businesses fall, music stays. There will be times ahead when people search for exotic things and the more difficult it gets to travel in the future the closer (from our own backyards) we can find exotics again.

Dawn: That is very profound!  So, any mission statement with your music?  I suppose that is a heavy question, but I’ve read about how your families and now you and your band mates have been influential in teaching young people the fiddle.

Antti: The mission could be just to enjoy life. If I can enjoy and show that I enjoy what I do, maybe the folks listening and seeing me can hear it and feel good too.  At least we get to do what we want the most, and that’s fun!  We get to travel and see a lot, we get to spend quality time with best friends, we meet new people all the time. Two days in a row in our lives are never too similar.

Dawn: That sounds great.  So your first Lotus Festival…was that more nervousness or fun?

Antti: Our first Lotusfest was early 2000, or was it 2003? First of all it was really exciting to go to the States with Frigg. I was excited about the music we played and also how the band had developed with such a fast tempo. We had some nice time with Lee [Lotus director] and had great local beers! It was also so great to find out that we really got a small group of fans there after our first show. I wonder how it’s going to be this year…I think we play better, we enjoy more on the stage, we have plenty of new good tunes but haven’t forgotten the good old ones either.

Dawn: Oh good, you like the Upland beer?  Me too.

Antti: Petri just went wild when I told him that we’re going back to Bloomington… Just hands up in the air and yoo-hoooing.

Dawn: So what to expect from Frigg this year at Lotus?  This will be my first festival.  Any surprises?

Antti: Hopefully our gigs there will be full, hopefully we’ll sell all the CDs we’ve brought, hopefully we’ll get offered some nice local beers, hopefully you’ll also find your way there and get partly to make my expectations come true.

Dawn: I will definitely be there, though one night I am a volunteer.  I have to make sure no one leaves the festival parameters with their beers.  I fear I won’t be very popular that night.

Antti: Don’t worry; we’ll be carrying them only in our bellies.

Dawn: Do you have any parting words of wisdom, or anything else you’d like people to know before Lotus?

Antti: I’m not too good in sharing wisdom. You could just convince people that the “hot fiddles from cool Scandinavia” are coming to the oasis of Indiana and they are going to make and have a good time!

More information about Frigg can be found on the Lotus Festival Website, lotusfest.org.