The Emergence of Great Entertainment - Bluetrain and Flavio Sala

 Flavio Sala (Italy) makes his debut at Rob's Barn in Westminster, Maryland, USA on August 9, 2014

9 August 2014:  Westminster, Maryland.


      Terese Hartline, one of the most active and dedicated bluegrass followers in Maryland asked me recently to name my favorite bluegrass band. I thought long and hard for a moment and then told her I had a standard answer for that question: The bands I like, I like for different reasons. One might have more polish than another. One might be gifted with a better fiddler. One might do great vocals while another might be better pickers. I have a hundred different reasons for liking the bands I'll go out to listen to, or drive lots of extra miles to experience; not just listen to, but experience. You can't just listen to a bluegrass group or bluegrass musician. You have to experience their craft; their product. Darren Beachley calls it 'the total package' when he's talking about professionalism in the business. No one would know better than Darren. I've always respected his professional approach to the business, and his professional approach to entertaining his audiences. This past Saturday night and past Sunday afternoon gave me pause to think about these things again. Don't be surprised. I approach my favorite operas the same way I appreciate good bluegrass. One might have a better story-line. One might have more spectacular arias. One might be darkly gothic and typically German, while the next favorite might be typically Italian Bel Canto. My humanities training reminds me that it's helpful to know the historical and cultural backdrop of  how and why certain things happen, and appear, and emerge in the arts, music, language of any distinct time period or national culture. I'm always more interested in the emergence factor. And don't let all the big words fool you. When it comes to bluegrass, I'm just a gad-fly. I have a lot of fun with the emergence factor. To wit: recently I wasted four hours out of my day when a new band didn't bother to show up for an unpaid gig. I really wanted to know who they were and get some photos. So much for thinking about professionalism if you want to break into the entertainment business!

      But there is always a pay-back with the emergence factor; a rich, rich pay-back. Few are willing to risk the invested time and effort. I have to smile at Tony Bennett's story. Coming out of the late 40's Age of the Crooners, he was nearly washed up and forgotten (the public is very fickle!) by the end of the 50's only to emerge later as one of the biggest music stars in the world. He persisted. He believed in himself and his music while the Great Unwashed forgot about him. He evolved and emerged back into universal music consciousness because he was good. He was always good; but it took a long time for the world to realize it. I'm always the Gad-fly sitting in a chair and mulling over these crazy notions while watching a great band that's barely been in existence for a year perform in a Barn in Maryland, or a band that's been in existence for barely four years go from a Beer Bar in Loudoun County right on into Carnegie Hall in New York City. If they're reading this, they know who they are, and God bless them for their courage to stick with it and believe in what they're doing.

      The other band that played the Barn in Maryland is not just any band. And the Barn they played in is not just any Barn in Maryland. Within a short span of a few years, Rob's Barn in Westminster, Maryland has established a unique and extremely special reputation for offering only the best (and closest-to-authentic as you can get,) bluegrass music. The authenticity-part is very important. The audience is demanding. The owner (Rob Miller) is in agreement and accedes to their demands. The plan is pretty simple and undemanding: show us what you got and provide a good evening of entertainment. It's nothing more than what any of the other Maryland bluegrass venues are asking of its performers. But one working environment is as different as the next. As a paying customer I make my choices as to what kind of environment will give me the most bang for my buck. I will naturally choose the environment that offers me the best entertainment. In this, Rob's Barn has emerged. Rob Miller and the team of volunteers who help him with the (now annual) selection and programming of  'Barn Concerts' already has the requisite reputation for offering quality over quantity. I offer all this as backdrop to what happened there on the night of August 9th.

      Rob Miller got an e-mail from a friend of a friend, requesting some help for a young guy from Italy who wanted to establish his musical credentials with some appearances in the U.S. He already had a European fan-base, an established following on You Tube, and now he wanted to spend three years in America. He plays classical guitar. Not quite the genre that the Barn audience comes to expect. But Rob Miller took a chance and convinced his committee it might be fun. Flavio Sala's name soon began to appear in the Barn's promo material for the concert series. He would appear on the 9th as (sort of) the opening act with Dave Propst and BLUETRAIN. It wouldn't so much be an opening act, but more of a prelude entertainment factor. In conversations with the band, I couldn't actually get much information out of them as to what was happening or what was planned for the entrance of the unknown Flavio Sala. Nothing like this had ever happened in a "Bluegrass Barn." Once the evening started, I knew exactly what was happening. It was a full-blown, debut Recital for an extraordinary guitarist. As Flavio Sala talked, gave background information on himself, and gave informative commentary on his knowledge of South American guitar styles (especially Venezuelan) and Venezuelan composers, his rich guitar-playing lifted to the rafters and the audience (composed of a lot of good guitar-players) sat in stunned silence; not in any negative way, but in deep appreciation for his talent. After 45 minutes of playing, which included numbers by Santana and Eric Clapton, the full house erupted with shouts and applause and they demanded two more encore numbers. The look on Flavio's face was priceless. The look on Rob Miller's face was priceless. What happened next was even better. During a short intermission Flavio was swamped by the audience for hand-shakes, expressions of gratitude, congratulatory comments, and lots of questions from all the guitar-pickers in the audience. He said to me in a brief photo-op  "I never in my wildest dreams expected this. I went to one bluegrass event in Italy and I honestly didn't like it. But this is very different. This is so much better!" He could have left after his recital. He stayed to watch and listen to BLUETRAIN. Then he stayed long after closing time to talk to local guitarists. BLUETRAIN just keeps getting better; they're emerging too, musically and as entertainers. What happened was not so much an entertaining musical event, as it was a cultural exchange of the highest order between musical worlds.

      When we finally got home my phone lines and internet lines were buzzing. The main question was "What did we just witness??" Rob's Barn had a record night. Those who had never experienced BLUETRAIN were telling me, "Now I know why you like these guys!" Old Rob's Barn hands were running around proclaiming it the best night ever at Rob's Barn. Well, the success factors are easy to discern. A lot of talented people all gathered in one cozy and comfortable location for an event the likes of which we may never experience again - and it's all still emerging as long as there is a vibrant audience around to appreciate and support traditional bluegrass music.

 BLUETRAIN's second appearance at the Rob's Barn Concert Series  (9 August 2014)

 

"Nope, Never Heard of Them" . . . (But I Know Them Now.)

      

Roger Eberlin, Tom Cook, Ray Horst, and John Hilton. (Ron McVey is out of camera range)

15 June 2014: Fathers' Day

     I don't know how I get myself in these fixes. Well, yeah, I do. I'm having too much fun in life. Last night I came home (again) from Jumbo Jimmy's Crab Shack in Port Deposit, Maryland. Fortunately, the weekend traffic on I-95 South was light and I could take my time composing my thoughts. On Saturday night Connie and I went out to (Rob Miller's Barn)  in Westminster, Maryland to see Fastest Grass Alive. I should have been working on a piece I'm writing for Marv Ashby and High Octane, but I was way behind. I'll get to the Marv Ashby piece sooner or later. Right now I'm having too much fun. It's nice to be on a roll of having fun with bluegrass. I put Rob's Barn in parenthesis because it's nearly a well-kept secret. Rob Miller and his Committee of volunteers have only recently established a nice web-site and other public connections so they can at least let the Traditional Bluegrass cognoscenti know how to get to this obscure location. Before a few months ago everything was being handled through a massive e-mail list, which is tedious and antiquated. Here's the well-kept secret: Rob's Barn is establishing an operating record of getting, lining up, acquiring, some of the best working bluegrass bands in Maryland, Virginia, and Pennsylvania. What I like about the place is, it's strictly for listening and enjoying the music and everyone who goes there is on the same page about that. It's also staying traditional bluegrass only - no funny stuff. The form will be honored and respected by the best traditional bluegrass players you'll find in Maryland and beyond.

     The Saturday night performance with Warren Blair, Kenny Blair, Steve Streett, Dave Robertson, and Scott Walker was so outstanding that I knew I would have to write it up eventually. Fastest Grass Alive has nearly a legendary reputation among those regularly working the Maryland bluegrass venues. But here I am in a jam. I still owe Marv Ashby some credit. So, being the hopeless addict I am, I got some sleep until 10:00 am on Father's day and then headed out to Jumbo Jimmy's to catch "Chestnut Ridge." For the past several days I've been checking every internet source and calling friends to see if I might find out anything I could on Chestnut Ridge. "Nope, never heard of them" was the response I was getting. There were lots of bands called Chestnut Ridge but none of them matched what I was looking for. Nothing on You Tube, either. Sometimes in my line of having fun I love the total crapshoot. Take the big chance and be totally disappointed or be pleasantly surprised. After all, isn't that what the entertainment business is all about? I had one connection: John Hilton, who plays banjo. It ends up I had been friends with him on Face Book all along and had never met him. I put two and two together. People castigate Face Book for it's superficiality. I would be dead in the water for bluegrass connections and band schedules if I weren't on it. I walked into Jumbo Jimmy's and a few minutes later John Hilton walked in the door. Bingo. We were finally introduced. And he's a good banjo-player by the way. That's the important part of the story. Pretty soon I got into a discussion with Leon Werkheiser and Jerry Riecke and when I inquired as to who these guys were, the full story came out. Chestnut Ridge used to play a lot at Jumbo Jimmy's but hadn't been there in a few years. Aha! There was another odd factor I have to mention: A lot of the usual crowd wasn't there (it was Fathers' Day) and the usual people at the usual tables had all been replaced with folks I didn't recognize! They were all friends, fans, and family of Chestnut Ridge. When a band from Pennsylvania playing in a place in Maryland can fill up a venue with its own crowd, you know you're in for a special treat; sort of like going to a Hillbilly Gypsies event, or watching Marv Ashby and High Octane cause a riot in a great venue like Goofy's up in Spring Grove, Pa.

     There was a major tectonic shift from getting a response of, "Nope never heard of them" to experiencing what the crowd experienced at Jumbo Jimmy's last Sunday when Chestnut Ridge started playing. This is not the greatest bluegrass band you've ever heard, but they're very entertaining and high energy, slowing down once in a while with really old Monroe and Stanley stuff, and some Jim and Jesse. Tom Cook on mandolin broke it all open with his take on Jimmy Martin material. All the vocal work was tight and excellent. I got the impression that a lot of the Chestnut Ridge personal style leaned toward creating an 'Old Barn Dance' atmosphere and there's absolutely nothing wrong with that after weeks and weeks of listening to murder ballads, hanging songs, and tunes about men ditching their philandering wives. I'm way behind and I may never catch up with the story about Marv Ashby and High Octane. I'm having too much fun. I never heard of Chestnut Ridge, but I'm happy to have made their acquaintance and I hope I see more of them around Maryland.

Chestnut Ridge:  Ray Horst, guitar - John Hilton, banjo - Roger Eberlin, bass - Tom Cook, mandolin - Ron McVey, fiddle.

No website available. Chestnut Ridge's members are mainly from the Lancaster, Pa. area and perform in that region. Several of the members are linked with other band configurations.   

Bluegrass in the Traditional Way - A Special Presentation

 The Rocks Bluegrass Factory Band at the Frederick Moose Lodge, June 7th, 2014

 "They say don't go/ On Wolverton Mountain/ If your lookin'/ For a wife.
'Cause Clifton Clowers/ Got a pretty young daughter/ But he's mighty handy
With a gun and a knife."  - Hit song by Claude King (1962)

7 June 2014: The Moose Lodge, Frederick, Maryland

     You know how it is. A song gets in your head and you can't remove it. This song actually has nothing to do with the show I saw last weekend at the Moose Lodge in Frederick - and it has everything to do with it. The newly formed Rocks Bluegrass Factory Band (Point of Rocks, Maryland) had aligned with the venerable Ernie Bradley and the Martin Brothers and Aspen Run for a full evening of exploration and show-casing of talents. At the center of the Rocks Bluegrass Factory effort is Joey Longwell, multi-instrumentalist and excellent baritone voice. Joey Longwell has been a long-standing member of the bluegrass scene up around Frederick County and some years ago he linked up with Gene Beachley through the Ernie Bradley connection. They played a lot around Lucketts, Martinsburg, and Hagerstown. Anybody who plays with Ernie Bradley is immediately connected to the A-List of  working bluegrassers in the Maryland and West Virginia Panhandles. There aren't many. You would expect the region to be rich in working bluegrass bands and musicians. It's not. The audiences and the interest have dwindled. Working musicians sit around and complain a lot that they can't get monetary support from working their craft. It's a unique dynamic because the region was once the hot bed spawning ground for the greats who established the genre. I still love to travel out in that direction and search out the gatherings and local jams where people are playing and dreaming about teaming up to make a few bucks playing music. There are numerous, marvelously talented bands out there on the edge of the mountains who never get beyond playing the church revival circuits and fruit stand openings, or an annual street carnival. They'll play for free or what's known as "the gate" because the local operators think they either don't need to be paid, or the band is doing a free favor for somebody, usually a relative.

     It's easy to sit by and do nothing. It's easy to accept 'the ways things are.' It takes a little bit more guts and chutzpah to take a step forward and try to change things. Way back in my university days when I should have been studying math and science, but really couldn't stand it because it bored me to death, I began researching the rise and spread of  commedia dell'arte from Italy to the rest of Europe in the 16th Century. Along with that arose a tradition of troubadours and Italian dance masters who had as much to do with the artistic explosion of  the Renaissance as any supposedly intellectual scholar of  the time. What these people had was mobility. From court to court and town square to town square. The mobility was either self-imposed or forced by a local court official or magistrate. Along with the legend of the vagabond life-style arose the wonderful purpose these vagabonds served as exchangers of  ideas, popular stories, and even local news sources. One can't even begin to contemplate the rise of opera, ballet, and what we often refer to as the "higher arts" without considering the early role played by traveling troupes, street musicians and actors, and other assorted entertainers. Once I left my studies and started a career in the historical travel business there was always a side-bar reason why I would leave "The Tour" and seek out the things that interested me the most; like local music for instance, or a local art scene. It didn't take me long to realize that every country in the world has some form of local music and usually that local music had something to do with the establishment of the local culture. I soon realized my university studies had been very myopic indeed. Carl Jung got it right. Deep in the human mental recesses are universal patterns that make us the homo sapiens we are. Subconscious human fears of survival or flight, fantasies of love and romance, and dealing with the loss of another human being. Whether it's the sappy love-songs of  Japanese Enka music or the insipid e-minor lullabies sung by every Vietnamese mother, we pass along our state of humanity on the great DNA chains of each culture and nationality. Nothing made me happier last year than to get an opportunity to travel to the Tatra Mountains in southern Poland and go through the CD stalls in Zakopane.

     I'm sitting at a bluegrass performance in the DC suburbs. Every table was taken and there were empty seats at mine, so a couple asked if they could share the table and I obliged. I introduced myself and then went back to listening to the music. That's what I want to do. I want to listen to the music and study what the musicians are doing. The man who sat down "Harrumphed" a lot. That was aggravating enough. But then he asked me if I knew anything about bluegrass. I asked him what he did for a living and he told me he taught music at a local university. I didn't know whether he wanted to know more about bluegrass, or whether he was trying to set me up for a game of 'dozens.' I said nothing to him. Better for him to try and make the first slice in this Duel of the Minds. He pedantically proceeded to give me (along with a lot of aggravating harrumphs) the stock Music Appreciation 101 (Freshman Level) lecture on how bluegrass came here to this region on the backs of Irish and Scotch settlers and all of today's bluegrass music has these Gaelic roots, and you can hear it in every bluegrass song. I listened to this drivel for a half-hour before I got up and left and told him to have a nice day. I never asked him where he taught or what he taught. I didn't want to know. I wanted to ask why then, did the same note structures, chord patterns, and lyric ideas show up in Japanese, Vietnamese, English, Filipino, and lo and behold, Polish Mountain Music?

     About two years ago Joey Longwell and Gene Beachley started posting home-made videos on You Tube. There is some wonderful stuff up on You Tube and then there is the inordinate amount of crap and trash. You know what I'm talking about. Joey posted his songs first and his solo work is good. Not exceptional, but very enjoyable. Then he invited Gene Beachley to add his high lonesome tenor and the videos became even more interesting. I watch a lot of You Tube stuff whenever I have to check out a band or musical act I'm unfamiliar with. I'll normally watch a minute of something and if I hate it, it immediately gets the delete button. Joey's little productions are interesting. And again, not exceptional, but promising in the simplicity of it. Just two guys, two guitars, and a microphone. Basic back-porch stuff.  Music I remember as a kid back in my neighborhood when some of the men would get together with their guitars and drink beer. Joey packs a wealth of old bluegrass standards. Gene Beachley is comfortable with the old honky-tonk, dance-hall tunes, the stuff of  drinking and she-done-me-wrong songs that you know will lead down the road to murder ballads. It's easy to laugh at it; make fun of it. The Professor probably would. It's a lot more complicated to observe it and try to put it into the universal totality of what it represents as art - traditional folk art and living and breathing art for the here and now of today.

     Don't go up on the mountain if you're looking for a wife. You might get your throat cut. There are still scary places up in the Appalachians and you can still lose your life through a bear-attack or snake-bite.  Not a good idea to go up there alone and spend any time unless you really know what you're doing, or if you've had sufficient survival training. The best bluegrass music reflects its primal and primitive beginnings. I seek out the local bands who have the ability to maintain that rough-edge while eliciting the proper response from its listeners. This is minimalist art and not easily accomplished. For an idea of what I'm talking about, take in a few appearances by the Hillbilly Gypsies or Marv Ashby and High Octane. You may not like this kind of music, but you cannot, not listen to it. It's as primitive as it gets. It's primitive on a grand scale. It's also no-joke intended, mountain music. Ernie Bradley and the Martin Brothers and Aspen Run all come out of a basically primitive musical style that we once jokingly referred to as hillbilly music. The years have passed since the 30's and 40's and popular tastes (and Musicology) have re-classified the various threads of the 'bluegrass genre.' Every bluegrass band or entertainer attempts to return to the primitive beginnings. Few succeed. I have my favorites. Everyone who follows bluegrass does. When I sense unnecessary embellishments it's time for me to head toward the nearest exit. When I see a whole crowd of people get up out of their chairs and start dancing, I need to stick around and watch and especially listen to a band closely.

     The "Bluegrass in the Traditional Way" evening of  hard-core bluegrass was a first-time event to introduce and showcase the talents that the Rocks Bluegrass Factory hopes to carry on into the future. It was a first step not without its rough edges, but rough edges are to be expected in any show-case endeavor. The Moose Lodge in Frederick provided an excellent playing space and spacious dance floor that got a lot of use once the Martin Brothers and Aspen Run hit the stage. The best part of the evening shined when it was just Joey Longwell and Gene Beachley up on stage. A naturally talented baritone and a naturally talented high tenor blending their voices in plaintive melodies. Joey added his dobro and gene his old Martin. Primitive. And it sounded just right.

The Rocks Bluegrass Factory Band:
Joey Longwell, guitar, dobro - Gene Beachley, guitar, lead vocals - Jaime Anderson, banjo - David Morris, bass.
Special Guests:  Ernie Bradley, The Martin Brothers and Aspen Run   

  

Stories

4 June 2014

     Last night in Saigon a baby boy was born. Yeah. So what, you say to yourself, babies are born every day all over the world. But it takes on another significance if you know the father and some of his story. The mother I have yet to meet, but I'm sure I will someday. I'm in and out of Viet Nam a lot. Bruce Luong came to this country like thousands of refugees and quickly adapted to an American way of life. He went back recently to Viet Nam to seek a wife and start a family and resume living in a mountainous portion of Tennessee. I came to know Bruce through bluegrass music and  through a mutual friend in Tennessee. But I had to think about how talking to Bruce or exchanging messages with him forever and again takes me right back to me plodding through the rice paddies of Quang Ngai Province in 1966. Check that year, Bruce - that's practically the Pleistocene Age! Young and stupid, I had no idea what life had in store for me after I got home. That I would meet the woman I've loved for 47 years, have a beautiful son who now has his own family. I hadn't a clue that the overseas deployment to Viet Nam would come back to both haunt me and gift me with a career avocation. I hated the war and what it did to our country. Read that statement again. This is the average American's take on the Viet Nam War. We conveniently push aside the cost to the Vietnamese. And it doesn't matter (except to those who will never change their attitude) which side of the political team the Vietnamese were on when Americans refer to the Vietnamese who fought in the war in Viet Nam. I've spent a life time trying to study the facts of what happened and I've been extremely fortunate to have been able to watch Viet Nam develop, in real time, on the ground, constantly,  since 1988.

     Another part of the story was born last night on a hot, muggy night in Saigon in District Five. You don't know where that is? I do. I could take you right to the main hospital and describe what the main gate looks like. I can envision the hundreds of family members milling about outside waiting for news of their loved ones and I can hear the cacophony of noise from the thousands of motorbikes on the street. Back here in the U.S. a young guy is waiting for news too, and through the modern miracle of communications, he receives news nearly immediately that he's a new father. My father and mother had to wait weeks just to know where I was and if I was still alive. We went three months one time without mail. But there I go again whining about a few discomforts. I came home in one piece, very lucky, and relatively healthy. It was soon after graduating from university that the stories I refused to pay any attention to before or during the war began having an effect on me. I was bombarded with them because of my commercial and business involvement in Viet Nam, my involvement with film makers, academics, and artists, and a whole parade of various interesting characters I met coming back and forth and in and out of Viet Nam and other countries in Asia. For any young person reading this (or any interested person, especially Mr. or Mrs. Average American,) who thinks the Vietnam War is ancient and lost history and therefore not worth a career or academic study, I have a message for you. The stories haven't been told yet. We haven't even grasped the beginning of it; what preceded and proceeded our involvement in, and departure from the country of Viet Nam in 1975. I smiled at the news of the birth and contemplated the Big Picture of what was going on. What a marvelous event. A new Vietnamese citizen gets to inherit the future - whatever that is, and whatever that means.

  Luong and Tran - Beautiful, new Parenthood.  (in Ha Noi.)

All The Above - The Rick Jones/Joyce Sitzes Benefit

 Rick Jones (Banjo) with Foggy Hollow Bluegrass, 24 May 2014

 24 May 2014: Street, Maryland

     It was billed as a benefit for two members of the Maryland Bluegrass Family who lost everything in a bad fire, but I think it was actually a Fiddle Festival. No. Wait a minute. It was a Banjo Festival with some of the best banjo-players in Maryland. It wasn't actually that, either. It was a Bluegrass Festival with a whole day's worth of some of the best bands in Maryland. Yeah. It was actually a festival with the voices and musicianship of  Danny Paisley, Carroll Swam, Darlene Harris, Warren Blair,  Martha McEvoy, and wild-man Frankie Short. No, it really wasn't a festival it was a party. You have to sit in a chair at a festival and scream "Down in front!" to people. Here, you could dance, eat lots of great food (no funnel cakes, no cotton-candy) and move around and see all the friends you might miss at a festival. Rick Miller (Blue Train) summed it up best: "Wow! I get to see the bands I've missed because we're always playing somewhere."  We audience members hardly ever consider that. When you're working, you don't get to see other bands or player-friends in the business.

     On this day, it was a rare opportunity to catch up on old times, recount bluegrass lore and funny stories, and generally celebrate the existence of a wonderful sub-culture. I met some really great people for the first time, heard some bands for the first time, and enjoyed hearing the stories of people like Steve Sadler (Foggy Hollow Bluegrass) and Brian Eldreth (Northern Connection). There's always a 'sleeper' or two just like at a festival. You walk away amazed that you hadn't heard them before. Such is the case with Carroll Swam and Bluestone and Butch Arrowood and his relatively new group called Short Notise. They blew me away. It's different when you're not out to impress anyone. You want to do the best you can because it's all for a good cause and you want to look good, but the day is about having fun, playing with, and playing for friends, and smoking and joking with the Boys out back while you're warming up and waiting to go on. Out back and in front of the dance floor it was hot - literally and figuratively.

     The day warmed up and so did the bluegrass. Danny Paisley opened it up at 1:00 like an artillery barrage hitting the French trenches during World War I. Then in an emotional come-back, Rick Jones and Foggy Hollow played for the next hour, then Frankie Short and Northern Connection got the dance floor going. It never stopped till 10:00 pm and the Hall remained filled throughout the whole day of celebrating the music and fundraising for Rick and Joyce. All this when people had things to do and places to be on one of the busiest weekends of the year. I had to smile at it all. What a great sign of a healthy, vibrant music community. Darned near like a church of true-believers out to help someone in need. The Moveable Feast kept moving too. From up front to out back. How about this vision? John Glik and Mike Munford jamming out back. Mike Munford jamming with Carroll Swam and other guests. Warren Blair fiddling with T.J. Lundy and other fiddlers. One group would leave the hot Hall for some cool air outside and another group would take their place inside. You couldn't have purchased a ticket for this kind of music experience. And here's another fact: none of this happens in a vacuum.

     It takes people to make it happen. It takes bands that are willing to give of their time because that's what they want to do. Sara Shock and Darlene Harris began weeks ago to get the ball rolling, along with the strong cooperation of the the Darlington/Dublin VFW Post. It was a natural. The Post has a long tradition of supporting live music, especially traditional bluegrass. On this day, I was fortunate to meet Post Commander Chris Harkins and 'media director' Jennifer Hannah. Both were very cordial in answering my questions and stayed the course for the whole day of taking care of the guests. Doug Kriess worked his buns off too, providing and taking care of the sound system. Doug plays mandolin with Foggy Hollow Bluegrass, so on this Saturday he was a busy man indeed. Donny Hudson and Cathy Berry brought in most of the meat and the Post Ladies' Auxiliary provided hot dogs. Hank Snow (his real name!) ran the auction and generally played master-of-ceremonies for the music and numerous raffles and 50/50's. The give-away raffle centerpiece was a fiddle donated by Harry Shorter. There was a lot of interest in that item. There are a lot of people to thank for such a wonderful day,  but in the life of a bluegrass community the central focus is the music. Nothing would have happened without the presence of Danny Paisley, Foggy Hollow, Northern Connection, Fastest Grass Alive, Bluestone, Short Notise, and Blades of Grass. There to have a good time and donate their time was John Glick, Harold Tipton, Mike Munford, Rick Miller, Harry Shorter, and I'm sure I'm going to leave out some names in this list of luminaries. Thanks to them all, and thanks to all who donated their, time, talent, and money for such a worthy cause.

     It was all the above - Festival, Party, Gathering, Family Reunion, Little Church, a unique opportunity for the Maryland Bluegrass Community to share the gifts.

 

 

    

Back to Basics

 The Martin Brothers & Aspen Run at Goofy's in Spring Grove, Pa.

11 May 2014:  Spring Grove, Pennsylvania.

     I am in no way, shape, or form,  in, or connected to, the music business. But lots of people send me videos, Youtube selections, and even CD's from time to time in the hope that I'll take a look or a listen. I've been in a funk lately. I felt like I was drifting away from my first choice for listening and entertainment pleasure - hardcore bluegrass. Odd, but I think the slight depression started a few months ago when somebody forwarded a video to me of some young people beating on some wooden crates. They called themselves a bluegrass band, but when you went on their website the description of their "style" said it all: "A bit of bluegrass. A bit of blues. A little Rock!" Uh Oh. Americana, folks! Here it comes. In other words, we'll play anything to get a real gig. We'll even beat on wooden crates, because we saw other bands do that and it sounded so cool at the last 'open mic.' I've seen any number of faceless young groups now who are beating on wooden crates. Another un-original gimmick is gaining with the copy-cats:  go onstage barefoot, and then call yourselves the "Barefoot Something-or-others" or "The Shoeless Consortium" or the "Barefoot Barn Pickers." This is so the audience can exclaim in great surprise and excitement "Oh! I get it! They're NOT WEARING SHOES!"

     Yeah. They're just gimmicks. Gimmicks don't get you very far where I'm headed. I missed the annual opening of Goofy's Eatery and Spirits by a week. Warm spring and summer Sundays once again in the open air pavilion behind the main restaurant. I missed the first week but that's OK. The Martin Brothers & Aspen Run are playing and you never know what's going to happen when they show up at Goofy's. The weather is perfect. The late-day lighting is perfect for photography. The overflow audience is perfect. Lots of old friends and Harley's. Real stupid not to wear footgear around here with all that hot metal, heavy horse shoes flying through the air, and all that heavy stomping on Whitey Runkle's new dance floor. The new dance floor had just been installed this winter. Your gimmicks won't get you very far, either. You are either a musician and an entertainer or you are not. The audience will let you know by the amount of applause and whether you have the authenticity to fill up the dance floor. This is true on both Saturday and Sunday at Goofy's. Saturday nights are reserved for real country music. Sunday afternoons are special with a 4:00 start for the traditional bluegrass. On this particular Sunday, it was warm and sunny and packed with patrons who enjoyed the volleyball, horse shoes, dancing, and of course sitting around and talking about motorcycles. The only reason I ever showed up at Goofy's was because some time ago Herb Martin told me "they had real music at Goofy's." I took a chance. I got hooked. If somebody in the bluegrass community tells me they have real music somewhere, well, that's good enough for me. If some punk kid shows up on stage barefooted or is beating a wooden crate and tells me I should check out the music at some joint, I more than likely will dismiss anything coming out of his mouth as being worthless. He's into copying somebody else. He probably thinks all music at an 'open mic' is Americana. But I go to Goofy's because I know Whitey Runkle would never allow that to happen on his stage. Whitey knows his audience is too savvy to allow it.

     A few years ago I sought out Whitey's Road House (that's basically what it is,) because I had run into one of the most basic, traditional, bluegrass bands I had experienced up to that point. The Martin Brothers & Aspen Run were regulars at Whitey's place and still are. They still generally open and close Goofy's Eatery and Spirits bluegrass season. They draw a big crowd that likes to have fun. Whitey can rely on a good day of beer and food sales and make no mistake about it, a popular band can guarantee you a day of good sales. Whitey understands the equation, and most bluegrass fans who hang out there are grateful that Whitey keeps providing the kind of entertainment that's expected - hardcore country, classic rock and roll, and traditional bluegrass. Herb Martin, father to all the Martin boys, and acting general manager to the band suggested I experience the band one Sunday afternoon and that started my connection to the place. To say the place is a bit off the beaten-track is an understatement. You have to traverse some 25 or 30 miles of rolling and hilly Pennsylvania countryside to get there. Then you discover a real road house surrounded by motorcycles, picnic benches, and an out-door pavilion where the entertainment happens. You can leave your urban snobbery on one of the picnic tables near the volley-ball court. You soon discover that life has sort of been frozen in time here. The people are actually nice to you and the only requirement is to answer "Yes" if anyone asks you whether you like bluegrass. The place started jumping once The Martin Brothers and Aspen Run got into their trade-mark Jimmy Martin covers. They're not the best bluegrass band I've ever heard but I admire what this band can do with an audience and they have a solid following in Maryland and in this area of Pennsylvania.

     That was a few years ago. This winter (yeah, I know, it was a long one!) I sort of went off the deep end and tried to shake up my bluegrass routine. I even went out and enjoyed some classic country. Connie thought I should be seeing a psychiatrist. When I feel like I need a shake-up, I always go back to listen to the Martin Brothers. Why? because they're basic. They epitomize for me what bluegrass is all about. But the winter months were long and even the Martin Brothers were sounding off - just not quite there. Sloppy entrances and endings. Forgotten lyrics and chord structures. More mistakes than normal. I could always look forward to seeing them again at Goofy's when the weather got better.

     I knew I was in for a treat. I knew everything would work out because it felt like old home week and the weather was marvelous. Old and new friends said hello as I ambled into Goofy's. Amazing what can happen with a depressed attitude when you get a shot of the basics of bluegrass into your system. The place was packed on a beautiful weekend. Whitey was in his glory greeting old friends and regular customers. Lots of families and kids and people having fun on the dance floor. The music was perfection. Every song delivered with the kind of energy you can expect in a Martin Brothers performance. There's a dynamic that happens to this place when the Martin Brothers perform here, and it's a reciprocal agreement between band and audience. I like to call it basic entertainment. When everything seems to be working as it should. No need for gimmicks or flash or grand-standing. Raw, traditional bluegrass. Basic.

  Whitey Runkle (right) greets customers at Goofy's Eatery and Spirits

   

The Rick Jones Benefit - A Special Event for the Maryland Bluegrass Community

 Rick Jones and Doug Kriess of Foggy Hollow Bluegrass Band

28 April 2014:



News from Sara Shock and Darlene Harris

The sign of a healthy and vibrant bluegrass community is its measure of outreach to its ailing Family Members. 2013/2014 has been an unusual year of illnesses, heart attacks, and injuries, all complicated by a winter that never seemed to end. I returned from Maine yesterday. The temperature was 36 degrees at night with still no daffodils and the willow trees just starting to show some green - it's April 27th!  After seemingly months of bad news, then came the news of Rick Jones and Joyce Sitzes losing their home, garage, and a lot of their possessions to a fire. Rick was injured but is recuperating nicely. Rick plays banjo for Foggy Hollow and the Maryland bluegrass community is responding in kind to assist Rick and Joyce. A benefit has been shaping up for a few weeks under the direction and organization of Sara Shock, Darlene Harris, and a number of volunteers. Beyond the assistance to Rick and Joyce, the event should be quite a 2014 highlight for the Maryland bluegrass community. Here are the particulars:

Date: May 24th, 2014   Place: Darlington/Dublin VFW Post #10146, 3440 Conowingo Road, Street, Md. 21154.  Admission:  $15.00 per person   Time:  1:00 till the fun ends!

Food and entertainment is included in the cost of admission, but drinks will have to be purchased separately from the VFW, since the VFW is donating the Hall for the entire day. Any one familiar with the Darlington/Dublin VFW Post knows it continues to provide some of the best traditional bluegrass entertainment in Maryland. Food, desserts, auction and raffle items and all give-aways will be donated along with the talents of Danny Paisley, Hank Snow, Northern Connection, Fastest Grass Alive, Bluestone, Short Notise, and tentatively, Blades of Grass.

Following a full day of music, the Hall will remain open for an "Open Mic" session for any musician who wants to keep the fun going. And of course, there will be a donation bucket for Rick and Joyce.
Food, money, and donation items are being accepted and coordinated by Sara and Darlene. Sara is also keeping a quick count of expected numbers. If you would like to donate please contact Sara or Darlene. I'll leave their numbers below. The initial head's up is very encouraging and will continue to grow toward May 24th. Look for more flyers, e-mails, and Facebook information as time progresses.

Sara Shock: 717-916-8318
Darlene Harris:  443-299-9705