Bob,
I agree--Don Firth *is* in a class by himself.
An early magical music moment for me was a trip to the Seattle Opera House to hear Richard Dyer-Bennet in concert. This was the early 1960's, around the time of the World's Fair. We had four tickets, but in sets of two, so during the first half of the concert I sat way up in the back with my mother. For the second half of the concert I sat with Dad, about three rows back from the front, to the right of the center aisle. At one point Dyer-Bennet encouraged the group to sing along, and I was evidently enthusiastic, leaning forward and singing lustily, having learned all of the words to all of his recorded songs. After the song was over he looked my way and made a remark that had the audience grinning along with him. Since I was probably 8 or 9 at the time I don't remember what he said, only the kindly temperament of it.
I'd have to say that the hoot/wake/whatever that was after Dad (John Dwyer) died was pretty magical. I realize that for some the event was a sort of neutral territory, many of them hadn't been together for years, but they were all a part of my childhood and everyone was wonderful. I felt like Dad was nearby, just to hear so many friends tell stories and sing favorite songs. A few people tried sweet, beautiful songs, in a respectful tone, but others let rip some of the funniest, dirtiest songs I'd heard in years. I was pleased to realize that I remembered the words to many of the evening's songs. One, in particular, was "Amphioxcis" (have I spelled it right?) that I think Sam Hinton wrote. The friend who led it sang it out of a book and everyone joined in on the chorus while the Dwyer clan just sang along for the whole song. And just before that Don Firth sang (anything he sings sounds good!) and Stan James sang the funniest song I'd heard in years; I can't for the life of me remember what it was now, but it was exactly the kind of song that Dad loved, dissolute, with puns and double entendres galore.
Maggie