Yes, cows can fly and sheep sing and goats play the fiddle! That’s how I remember the unimaginable parade. But most of all I remember Dansar (“Dancing”) Edvard ; a small, energetic figure hopping higher than the calves and singing louder than all the mooing and chirping put together.

And all of a sudden it was over, but still not, like a dream you can carry with you for days, yes maybe your whole life, yet lasting only a moment in your sleep.

I also remember that cold windowpane against the tip of my nose. The memory of wanting to be on the other side, wanting to join Edvard and dance away with the calves in this crazy parade of life – no matter where it would take me.

I think that cold nose-tip has surfaced many times since. And maybe it is because of that disappointing feeling of not being part that time, that I have followed the muse of music, dance and song many times when it has called me out of the warm kitchen and beckoned me to follow down roads I never otherwise would have dared to tread.

Dansar Edward was for me a myth already as a three-year old. Growing up he became more of an original but still ordinary old man living down the road. One of many characters of the village. When I in my late teens started to realize what kind of neighbours I had grown up with and my interest in folkmusic surfaced I went to Edvard’s grandchild and my school-mate and asked if I could come and visit. Sure, fine, when? Well, how bout after returning from my trip? When I returned Edvard was dead and buried. That cold nose-tip feeling again…

Now Edvard has released his first solo CD more than 30 years after his death. He has been declared a cultural icon in folkmusic-circles and become a myth again.