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Squeeze me if you love accordions

Print | Comments () Posted by Marcia Dick September 21, 2011 10:03 AM

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Danielle Dreilinger photos

By Danielle Dreilinger, Globe Correspondent

The poor, maligned accordion, butt of polka and Laurence Welk jokes, schmaltzy as chicken fat. How hard could it be to catch a flash mob of them in Somerville, during a freeform citywide jam?

Profoundly, it turns out, for this reporter at the Sept. 17 Squeezebox Slam. The Somerville Arts Council event celebrated the instrument traditionally beloved by many local immigrant groups, from Irish to Italian to Pole to Brazilian.

At least the fest's organizers were similarly high and dry at about 1:30 p.m. The deep blue sky over Prospect Hill Park rustled with the sound of drying leaves and nothing else, despite a Facebook post promising an accordionist there.

"We had a nice thing going in Davis. Why did we leave it?" lamented co-organizer Michael McLaughlin. The organist for the Red Sox was even there, he said.

Well, co-organizer Susan Berstler pointed out, this part of the day was meant to be stealthy. "Some people just can't handle random," she said. One participant would tell McLaughlin only that she'd be on "a random park bench."

Alas, by the time this reporter made it to Davis, the "nice thing" had dissipated except for one teacher playing with her student.

McLaughlin later estimated that maybe three dozen musicians had participated in the flash mobs. So perhaps that's it: nine accordion players per square mile are only slightly easier to find than the proverbial needle in a haystack, or an affordable apartment in close proximity to the Red Line.

(Locals do play the squeezebox: A well-known New Hampshire accordion shop has 37 Somerville addresses on its mailing list, Berstler said.)

Fortunately players and fans were found in abundance in Union Square during the second half of the event: a free concert spanning musical styles.

Everyone seemed to know each other, from the web if not in person. "There's a real bonding among accordion players … just because it's so unique," said Matt Morin of Jamaica Plain, 44, a.k.a. Kielbasia, an accordion-playing drag lunch lady. (He was not in character that day.)

And, they agreed, accordion was gaining in popularity.

"It's coming back," said James Gerke of Framingham, 47. (Framingham? For accordions, "I'll go anywhere.")

"I think it's just resurging," said Dave Magliozzi of Burlington, 60, who grew up playing in Somerville at weddings and clubs like the Kirkland Café. He put his accordion away when guitars took over but has since reembraced it.

Berstler cited local musician Audrey Ryan as an example of the growing accordion youthquake; Morin, the rise of ethnic sounds in rock—think Beirut or Gogol Bordello. "I've seen it in some younger bands, hip Brooklyn bands," he said. The instrument "can have a real sort of dark, circus-menacing sound."

Roberto Cassan stepped on stage with his beautiful inlaid instrument. He was taking, his student Gerke noted, a brief time-out between the matinee and evening performances of "The Gershwins' "Porgy and Bess."

In the audience, people hung out by the new Redbones food truck and little girls danced in fairy outfits. Longtime accordion teacher Paul Monte and his wife watched approvingly. The whole scene had a very mini HONK! Fest vibe. Indeed, that Somerville festival has welcomed the squeezebox all along: Morin marched as part of a 30-woman accordion troupe (that is, "29 ladies and one drag queen").

Berstler doesn't even play the accordion, she just loves it. "Accordion's beautiful," she said. "It's just fun taking things from different cultural aspects and mixing them together." That, she said, is what America's about. Some would add Somerville.

By 6:15, the light was dimming and the DPW guys were rapidly breaking down the stage. The exhilarated festival coordinators took control of an outside table at Precinct. There was already talk of a 2012 slam, Morin said, with Kielbasia potentially the MC.

A lone chord came from a Union Square bench, then a flurry of notes. It was a pale guy in skinny black jeans and hoodie, his accordion secured by a velcro supermarket produce strip. An indie sad clown.

"I was hoping to get here in time to mix and mingle and play," lamented the player, one Damien Fish of Jamaica Plain, 24, even though "it's so intimidating" to think about meeting other accordionists. Usually he's on his own, busking at Symphony "or like weird places in Allston." He added, "I try to look distant ... it's the perfect instrument for that."

Fish (below) idly started to play while he talked. Everyone digs, he said, Lady Gaga covers on accordion.

Danielle Dreilinger writes the Somerville Scene column. E-mail her at somervillescene@gmail.com and follow her on Twitter.