The Dukes of Funchester

 Dave McLaughlin, Linda Lay, Tom Adams, David Lay, and Marshall Wilborn - Springfield Exit.

3 October 2014
Winchester, Virginia

      The place roared with laughter. Sean Loomis, lead vocalist and guitarist for Dry Mill Road, was explaining some things going on in Winchester and some woman in the audience yelled out "Funchester!" It aptly described the spirit of the evening, and the venue in which we were sitting. Connie and I got into Winchester early so we could take advantage of some walking time and enjoy a meal close to the Bright Box Theater. Dry Mill Road and Springfield Exit were on the same bill that evening and I was contemplating the outcome. Two entirely different bluegrass groups. Two entirely different approaches to bluegrass music. But each group consisted of consummate professionals who respected their craft, respected each other, and especially respected the audience which came out on such a dreary night to enjoy them. The Bright Box Theater has only been in existence a year, and if you need to find it, it's not hard to miss. It sits directly across from the old Court House Building on Loudoun Street, which is now the central Civil War Museum for the city of Winchester.
    
      Way back in time I remember as a child driving through Winchester on our way to Washington, DC. I remember the narrow streets and especially remember a Big Apple that sat in the center of town. On this evening I tried to remember where that Apple actually sat. It's all revitalized now - spruced up beyond beautiful and easily accessible. Several years ago it had all just started and now the vehicle-forbidden, pedestrian-friendly Loudoun Street has been expanded to include several other side streets. There are the usual upscale shops, restaurants, and yoga shops. There is plenty of outdoor seating and over-hangs, which came in handy when it started to rain - and why I'll never know, I'd left all the rain gear in the car and had to back-track to retrieve it. Parking was easy along any of the side-streets. On a chilly, rainy October evening, lots of people were out having fun in all the bars and restaurants or just browsing with their dogs. There were lots of dogs. When the rain started, most people headed into the myriad of cafes or opted to go home. The street lamps threw a nice reflective glow on the cobble stones and one could imagine a point in time when this city shifted allegiances 67 times during the Civil War. Sometimes it was in The South. Sometimes it was in The North. Terrible things had happened around these streets.

       When I think of Winchester (or "Funchester") I don't normally consider it a bluegrass mecca. I consider it a Patsy Cline mecca. This was her town long before the Philistines of all that is considered righteous in Winchester finally acknowledged they had a national star in their midst. Not that Winchester doesn't have its current bluegrass notables in its midst. It's one of the reasons why we opted to drive out this evening and enjoy the town. If you know bluegrass you know who the Johnson Mountain Boys are and you know that Linda Lay and Springfield Exit are the last vestiges of a group that is right up there in bluegrass history with the Seldom Scene, Country Gentlemen, and the Bluegrass Cardinals. I'm fortunate. Springfield Exit plays a lot around here when they're not out on the road. More recently, they've almost made a steady gig of playing at the old Washington Hotel in Winchester, within easy walking distance of the Loudoun Street pedestrian area. Almost anybody worth their salt in popular bluegrass circles is liable to show up and join Springfield Exit when they're playing at the Washington Hotel. That's what I love about this music. One never knows what to expect except you're destined to have a good time and enjoy it. I knew it was going to get interesting at the Bright Box Theater: put together a package as 'conservatively' bluegrass as Springfield Exit with an 'edgy' bluegrass group like Dry Mill Road and see how the patrons react.

       On a chilly and rainy July day in 2012, in Martinsburg, West Virginia, July 21st to be exact, I was invited out to a mini-bluegrass festival of sorts to hear some local bands. The place was a picnic pavilion way out in the middle of nowhere. I passed it a few times before I finally found it. Sound engineer Todd Stotler was there and said "Howdy" as I pulled in. We traded greetings and then he asked me if I had ever heard of "Dry Mill Road." Answering no, he then told me to prepare myself, that I might not like them, it was a warning of sorts, that conservative as I am, I might be disappointed. I get this a lot when I pull into a strange place. I'm not really the bluegrass police. My real friends (Todd is a good friend, by the way, and knows my tastes in music) know that I do have the ability to keep an open mind. I remember that day. It's stuck in my brain. Dry Mill Road was the last band out of six. The set started off with some traditional bluegrass numbers and then went down roads I'd never heard in bluegrass. It sounded like bluegrass but it may have been Celtic. It may have been bluegrass, but the wizardry of the music, the rapid-fire runs in key and octave changes, came darned close to the tightest of tight  jazz improvisation. I got hooked; but I like to see how an audience is reacting at all times. I was sitting in the midst of a hard-core bluegrass audience. They had all come to hear bluegrass, Mountain-Style, they never expected what they got, and I didn't expect it either. The crowd went nuts and wanted two more encores before they would let Dry Mill Road go home. The rest is history, as they say. Dry Mill Road had arrived and they were ready to go to work. One of my main interests in following locals groups is watching and studying a group's progress. It's like making a statement and then living up to that statement. Are you in it for real or just another flash in the pan? Are you contented playing for free at church picnics and pumpkin festivals or do you want to carry your music to a broader audience? I was never happier than when I got the news this year from Rob Mabe that Dry Mill Road was playing Carnegie Hall in New York City.

      I was happy to see a good turn-out at the Bright Box Theater. A lot of competition on an evening full of ball-games and later bad-weather predictions. The bars and cafes along Loudoun Street shouted out their own offerings of rock and blues to the younger crowd. Every once in a while you'd hear a roar build up when somebody scored a run. Autumn baseball season. I like to believe we were having a lot more fun inside the theater with an enthusiastic crowd of  bluegrassers. True believers here to see and hear local bluegrass legends and a more contemporary band called Dry Mill Road. That I enjoyed Springfield Exit is a given. By all that is holy in speaking the name Jimmy Martin, I really shouldn't like Dry Mill Road and what this band does with bluegrass - but I do, and I'm always left with a feeling that they've really just started to make their statement about their music. Tonight was a night to experience royalty - call them all the Dukes of Funchester.

Springfield Exit: Linda Lay, David Lay, Dave McLaughlin, Marshall Wilborn, and Tom Adams.

Dry Mill Road:  Sean Loomis, Robert Mabe, Douglas Ross, and Dave Hurt.

Doug Ross, Sean Loomis, Dave Hurt, Robert Mabe -  Dry Mill Road

      

 
          

Choose One Direction and Then Stick to It: Northern Connection Continues On The Right Path

 Traditionalist: Dee Gunter making an extraordinary appearance at Port Deposit, Maryland on 14 September 2014 with Frankie Short & Northern Connection Bluegrass Band.

15 September 2014 -

      I'm going through my notices for upcoming shows, fall programs, etc. I start getting them in mid-august. Fall and winter is such a busy time for the entertainment business and all the major concert halls in my neck of the woods. The competition for the almighty entertainment dollar is fierce. I know it sounds crazy, but if you're a professional band or entertainer and you haven't lined up your holiday gigs yet, you better go into a marketing mode. The smart ones are already contacting me and letting me know where they're playing for New Years. Time flies when you're working, in demand, and having fun. I'm sitting here looking at a schedule for an artsy-craftsy kind of place over in West Virginia that is promoting an Americana band that describes itself in the following genre (category? definition?): "New Orleans Gypsy Brass Circus Rock." Now, folks - this is why I refuse to pay money to see bands that advertise themselves as Americana. I won't publish the name of the band. I don't need to. I just wanted to point out either an identity crisis of monumental proportions or a bad marketing ploy to be cute. I can easily imagine a future Grammy Award given to the year's best band in the New Orleans Gypsy Brass Circus Rock category. Not.

      While I'm looking at this piece of promotional humbug, and not really casting aspersions, but rather pitying the people who printed it up, I'm still reeling from the Sunday performance at one of my favorite haunts. Let's get authentic. Let's ditch the manufactured names of musical forms just to bamboozle another sucker into buying a theater seat. Of course I'm prejudiced. I never claimed I wasn't. Just as my love for authentically produced traditional bluegrass music is sincere and honest, so is my honesty in not lying about my prejudices against fake bluegrass music. Or pretentiously fake bluegrass music. Or worse, pretentiously fake bluegrass music that parodies authentically traditional bluegrass music. I had the opportunity (once more with feeling) to see and hear Frankie Short and Northern Connection play at Jumbo Jimmy's Crab Shack in Port Deposit, Maryland. Little did I know that one of the Grand-Daddies of  Maryland traditional bluegrass would also be there, on hand, to be invited up to join Frankie and the band in the small performance space. Dee Gunter, known far and wide for his contribution to the history of  Maryland bluegrass music, sang four songs mostly dedicated to Jimmy Martin. Professionalism and talent is getting up from your seat at the drop of an invitation, grabbing the microphone, and allowing three other singers to join you in delivering four perfect pieces of bluegrass music. Time and again I've tried to explain that this is why I love this stuff. You don't have to manufacture fake labels or lie-filled press releases for it. The orthodox bluegrass true believers in the audience know it when they see it. Dee Gunter has done it so much he's got it down right; down to a fine art; the styling and the phrasing and just the right emotion. He makes it sound so easy; as if he's not working at all, but having a great time watching the audience experiencing a great time..

      Like a lot of working musicians in Maryland, Frankie Short follows in the footsteps of his father who was also a recognized practitioner of the art of bluegrass. I first met Frankie when he was playing exclusively with Baltimore Bluegrass, which as far as I'm concerned,  was one of the best bands in Baltimore. They officially disbanded last year and played their last gig on December 15th at Jumbo Jimmy's. Of course the performance was brilliant but also not without its sadness. Two days before that Frankie suffered a serious heart attack and it's a tribute to his popularity and a tribute to the Maryland Bluegrass Community that everyone I talked to was sincerely pushing and praying for Frankie's recovery. In honor of that, the last performance was packed with Baltimore Bluegrass fans. Frankie recovered and the band played one more time at the annual Christmas Party at Jumbo Jimmy's. I mention all this because on January 19th of this year (2014) Frankie emerged with another configuration called  Northern Connection. No surprise that the direction would remain sure and steady and always the same; traditional bluegrass in the Maryland style. The band consists of  Frankie Short, T.J. Lundy, Mark Seitz, Steve Streett, and Brian Eldreth. I've been watching them closely. I like what they do. All, are excellent musicians in their own right and often put their talents to work with other configurations. Northern Connection will celebrate its First Anniversary on January 19th, 2015.

      In a period of time when observers of the bluegrass scene in the States are proclaiming a critical near-death situation for the continuation of  hard-core traditional bluegrass, bands like Northern Connection carry on. When I'm discussing the bluegrass music 'health' situation with others I like to point out that here in Maryland we've seen the establishment of not only Northern Connection but also Bluetrain, The Cypress Creek Bluegrass Band, Special Blend, and The Rocks Bluegrass Factory Band. They're all working, they're all getting paid gigs, and all are building up their local followings at the clubs, bars, and fire hall dances. There are probably more that I don't even hear about working the non-paying street fairs and carnivals and what I like to refer to as the Pumpkin Fest Circuit. I'll always stick with the traditionalists; the bluegrassers who decided to go down the narrow path of traditionalist exactitude. There are but a few who exemplify it: Dee Gunter, Danny Paisley, James King, Marvin Ashby, Harold Tipton, Scott Brannon, and more. But it's enough of a traditionalist army to keep the music pure and authentic for at least several more generations. I won't really care what the music sounds like after I'm long dead and gone. But for today, I'll prefer to listen to the guys who've kept the music focused on a very narrow path. Somehow, quite mysteriously and magically, the music sounds a lot better in the hands of  Dee Gunter - and not Robert Plant.

 

Mark Seitz, Steve Streett, and Frankie Short

 TJ Lundy

Brian Eldreth

  

The Grand Reunion

 Doug Meek and his father, Brad Meek of the noted Meek family of Fiddlers. (7 September 2014)

7 September 2014:

      It took me a while to figure out what was going on, but bluegrass music has a way of making you eventually see the light. Then I got home and downloaded all my pictures and it became abundantly clear in all my photos from Jumbo Jimmy's Crab Shack. There was a Grand Reunion going on and the Master of Ceremonies was the incomparable Danny Paisley and his group of excellent musicians known as "Southern Grass." Danny Paisley and Southern Grass was the reason I was at Jumbo Jimmy's Crab Shack. He's been busy touring all summer and to see him perform in front of a huge audience is one thing; to see him perform (and have fun) up close and personal in a place like Jumbo Jimmy's and in front of family and friends is quite a different experience indeed. I therefore felt like one of the fortunate few who was there to experience it. Earlier in the week Brad Meek asked me if I would be there on Sunday. I gave him an affirmative. Brad is the father of the brilliant and talented (and very young!) Douglas Meek, primo Fiddler for Danny's band. I don't get to see Brad very often. Joyce Miller and Fran Honeycutt greeted me when I came into Jimmy's and both let me know their families would be on hand to see Danny Paisley. Pretty soon I was introduced to cousins, relatives, aunts and uncles, and the proceedings and dancing got pretty raucous as Danny commenced to do what he does best: play music.

      He played to a full house of  friends and family and people who love Danny Paisley and accept his music and his talent. I would imagine that Danny Paisley's style of singing and interpreting the music wouldn't be everybody's cup of tea. At times he's almost bordering on caterwauling and yelling, but there are times where he's absolutely brilliant in the expressed emotion. He knows exactly where he wants to go with any given song selection. It sounds so darned good for another huge reason: keeping up with every audible level, every note, every change in nuance is bassist Eric Troutman. The vocal work of Eric and Danny is reason enough to catch a Danny Paisley performance, but then add the vocal and banjo of  Mark Delaney. Mark Delaney is also an excellent soloist in his own right, but rarely solos when playing with Southern Grass. I hate the hackneyed term 'Deadly.' More confirming to say that the ultimate goal has been reached by Danny and Southern Grass - this is a team effort to produce authenticity and good music. Each member recognizes the talent and potential of the other. That kind of leadership comes down from the top - every Marine knows that and accepts it. One of the most difficult things in music is to instill teamwork among a bunch of acoustical pickers. It doesn't take long for an audience to catch on to a 'Hot-Dog' especially in bluegrass music. They don't last long on a stage or at a local jam. This why I love bluegrass. What seems so simple in the hands of a master like Danny Paisley doesn't explain all the complexities of putting together a masterful package. You have to listen to, and understand the intricacies. To repeat an old, over-used cliche, it takes everybody playing off the same sheet of music; but taking time to show-case your talent is an added bonus when you're watching and listening to Danny. This is where Ryan Paisley, Mark Delaney, Eric Troutman, and Doug Meek really shine forth. And when it happens to be really good, you're rewarded with that crazed Danny Paisley Smile.

      I felt privileged to see a lot of that smiling last Sunday. The dance floor was hot. Nobody wanted the two encores to quit. On a rare and delightful Sunday evening nobody wanted Danny and Company to pack up their instruments and go home. There were lots of  Millers, Paisleys, Lundys, Honeycutts, and Abels in the audience having a grand impromptu Family Reunion of  the representative families of Maryland Traditional bluegrass. Once in a while the planets line up just right. The driving force is bluegrass at its best. What a great time to spend with Brad and Doug Meek. Till I see you again, Brad.

Bobby Lundy and Gail Honeycutt Abel

T.J. Lundy and Mom, Joyce Miller

Some of the regulars from the "1 O'Clock Orchestra" at Jumbo Jimmy's Crab Shack: Rex Smith, Leon Werkheiser, Jerry Riecke,  and Dave Armstrong.

Yes. I'm Still In Love

 Yes. We're Still in Love

5 September 2014

      Hello My Friend! I found a beautiful picture of my wife the other day and I posted it to Facebook. I want everyone to know how beautiful she is. I also posted the caption "Yes. I'm still in Love!" After posting I sat back and decided it was time to return to talking about where I am with my Catholic Faith. If we don't think about these things they have a tendency to slip to non-priority. In the past few weeks I've been missing mass and that usually sends me down the guilt-path. When I converted to The Church I made a promise to love, honor, and obey the Teachings. Lately I've been lax in loving, and lax in honoring. I'm not happy right now with the changes in the liturgical verbiage. I've talked to other Catholics who are in the same boat. The central meaning  is still there, but being a Convert it took me a while to learn and properly recite all the old parts of the liturgy, and now I have to re-learn certain key parts of the newly re-arranged prayers. Just one more thing to cause me to take umbrage with the authorities! But in the end it's such a piddling matter to get angry over. Yes, I'm still in love. I'm in love with my wife and I've promised to love Christ's teachings. And I've promised to accept and honor the love that's being offered to me each time I take the Eucharist during mass. There have been any number of times in my short career as a Catholic that I've been struck to the core as a Convert to the Church. Father Dan Mode told me in a private conversation two years ago that the central teaching of  Christ and the central teaching of  the Church has everything to do with saying "Yes." The second teaching is this: Christ came into the world to direct each of us toward an understanding of God's unconditional love for each of us. I'm simply a human male married to a wonderful woman who bore our son, but beyond that she gave me riches I could have never imagined when I was a young, stupid, unmarried male. I may have never become a Catholic (a very happy one - you need to understand that) without her constant, loving help. Without her, I may have never understood the connection between my telling her how much I love her, and at the same time expressing those same words each time I take Communion with Christ and my Church. It's the "Yes" that Father Mode was talking about. It's all a big mystery as one favorite priest once told me. Life is a lot more fun when you find the joy in it instead of any sorrow. My complaints are meaningless and piddling in comparison to God's Great Plan for each of our lives. I'm still in love with Connie and that's such an easy choice. So much easier if  I  realize that my marriage is a sacramental gift I received when I made my final decision to convert to Catholicism.  +

It Sounds Better in Maryland.

3 September 2014:

      I admit my faults; my prejudices. But I've been spoiled. Treated like a spoiled child in a candy shop. Everyone knows I live in Virginia and sneak across the Potomac River to enjoy the bluegrass music in Maryland. I'm frequently asked why I do it so I'll say it once again for the record:  every weekend, every day of every weekend and sometimes on Thursdays, I can find entertaining, first-class bluegrass within a 70-mile range of my home in Virginia. But not in Virginia. I find it in Maryland. Last December I commenced my Maryland Traditional Bluegrass Calendar to document how much Traditional bluegrass was going on in Maryland. In January or February I plan on making a report of the findings, and then continue the calendar/schedule/listings on into 2015. The unscientific research is strictly mine and doesn't include Old Time music, or non-traditional bluegrass groups of which, there are plenty in Maryland, working the clubs, festivals, public picnics, and County-sponsored public concerts. No. My only concern is traditional bluegrass;  music done in what is commonly referred to as "the Baltimore style" or  "the Maryland/Baltimore style." The nick-names are strictly regional and probably have nothing to do with reality. Suffice it for me that I like whatever it is, and I like what I'm hearing when I have the opportunity to seriously listen to it.

The Old Bowie Town Grille Launches Bluegrass

 Gerry Stover, George Fehlner, Evan Clark, and Bob Graber on Bass

24 August 2014 - Bowie, Maryland

     There were other places I could have been, but I didn't want to miss this. It's not every day you get to see a new band do its first-ever paid gig in front of a live audience. It may not sound like much to you if you're not a part of the entertainment business, but I know what's at stake for the entertainers. This is the point where you can either prove or disprove that you've got the stability and cajones to get up in front of people and belt out a song or play an instrument with any amount of gumption. You hope they applaud and like you. Or you hope to God there isn't some drunk in the back who's going to boo you. The majority in the audience (unless they're musicians or performers themselves,) wouldn't dare get up there and do what the entertainer is doing. They're paying money for the entertainer to do it. The majority in the audience simply lacks the guts to do it. Dale Carnegie made a fortune in the 20's and 30's off a fact he discovered early on in his successful business career. People would rather die than get up in front of a room-full of their peers  and deliver a talk; a speech, or a sales pitch. Carnegie discovered this simple dynamic, this human foible, long before the pseudo psycho babblers of the 70's and 80's attached pseudo psycho names to it. How about good old stage fright? Yeah. That'll work. There's this air of scary apprehension. Failure, success, or worse yet, polite, soft clapping of  hands, like the soft, muffled sound of 80 or 90 cats pawing each other on the head.

      It wasn't only the debut of a new bluegrass band called The Cypress Creek Bluegrass Band. Bobby Joe Owens, owner/proprietor of the Old Bowie Town Grille had a lot riding on this gig, too. The venue has a reputation for keeping a sizable audience of regulars happy with a steady diet of good food and classic rock and roll and classic country. It's one of the last bastions of classic country. None of that pretty-boy new country stuff (I call it California Male-Model Country). No. I'm talking Merle, George, Conway, and Patsy. Some months ago I was in the Grille to hear some country and Bobby Joe and I got to talking. He was pumping me with questions about bluegrass. I knew something was on his mind. Then he showed up more than a few times at some of the bluegrass venues I hang out in. Now I knew he was up to something and I suspected he was doing field research. More conversations ensued and he told me he was going to launch a bluegrass program. Test the waters. See what happens. Bobby Joe is a former Marine. I'm a former FMF Corpsman (Third Mar Div and First Mar Div infantry rifle companies, thank you very much!) so we hit it off right away. We were taught to always look at the Big Picture. I knew from conversations that Bobby Joe was staying continuously focused on The Big Picture. He had set a date and had a band lined up. It would be August 24th and it would be a new band with no website, no CD's, nothing but a hope and a prayer that yes, indeed, they would play bluegrass. I asked him numerous times who they were, because I might know one or two of  them or maybe all of them. He couldn't give me much information, just that they were a couple local guys. One notable name popped up. Gerry Stover, the son of  Don Stover, who's known far and wide in the local and national music scene. Gerry had his own musical career going but had taken an eight-year sabbatical from performing to raise a family and establish himself. Born and raised and still living in Bowie, Gerry had played on and off with the other members around Bowie and Hagerstown. But decision time came as it usually does for any musician. Do I keep doing this or do I take care of myself and my family?

      It's 4:15 and after getting lost again (the third time I've gotten lost trying to find "Old Bowie." Some day I'll figure out where I keep going wrong.) I showed up in plenty of time. The upstairs bar and performance room was empty except for Bobby Joe sitting alone with an i-Pad. No customers. No band. I felt more than a little rattled. I hate these Washington/Baltimore suburbs and should move out of this hell-hole  but my housing values keep going up. Anything can happen. Traffic jams, football games, shootings, killings, hazmat catastrophes, anything to upset the best laid plans of mice and men. The emptiness gave Bobby and me time to talk. Ten minutes before five the band showed up and got to work tuning up and testing sound equipment.  At one minute to five the place filled with customers and Bobby Joe went to work glad-handing and greeting old friends, some musician friends and regular customers. I was relieved to see some familiar faces; and not just familiar faces but some of the most solid bluegrass supporters in Maryland. There were lots of seniors and families too, with children; a real mixed bag of curious customers who stayed most of the night and had fun. It was like any bluegrass audience I was so used to being with at other venues.

      At 5:03 pm Cypress Creek did an obligatory instrumental opening to test the equipment and get warmed up. Evan Clark, lead vocalist and guitar, took charge. I've got him pegged. He's a real buckaroo and showman. He's from Davidsonville, Maryland. The first official song was "How Mountain Girls can Love" followed by 19 more songs before they took a break. They pulled out all the old saws; "Sing Me Back Home," Tall Pines,"  "Lorena," "Kentucky Girl," "Black Diamond," an endless list of old chestnuts. The message was clear. They were traditional bluegrass following fixed and rigid boundaries, but the fun was only beginning. The second set included audience-recognizable and audience-familiar stuff  like "Fox on the Run," "Man of Constant Sorrow," and yes, even "Rocky Top" (wherein everybody started screaming at the tops of their voices.) I had to smile at that one. I appreciated that they used a play-list and stuck to it. Nothing worse than watching a group up on stage yammering and saying "Well, what are we going to do Boys?" We had a name for that kind of disorganization in the Marine Corps. It was called a Goat Rodeo. Save that for the high school Sock-Hop or a gratis appearance at your girl friend's graduation party. Evan Clark's take-charge attitude payed off in spades with extremely tight vocals, along with George Fehlner (Burke, Virginia) and Bob Graber (Hagerstown, Maryland). The musicianship was excellent and adequate. No real flash or hot-dogging. There weren't any major disasters, only a seriously dedicated purpose, and that's another piece of  the evening I appreciated. I experienced only two drawbacks and they're mine personally: they could have used a fiddler to punctuate and drive some of  the material (which was a good choice of material, by the way,) and Evan Clark got a little long-winded on some of the jokes. But that's a personal thing with me. Timing and pacing is an entertainment science full of dangerous pit-falls. The excellent vocals and instrumentation would have been enough to keep me happy.

      And I'd also be very happy to see them again at the Old Bowie Town Grille. I'd like to see them with a dancing crowd. I have a feeling there's a whole wealth of song-material packed away in their saddle-bags that wasn't even tapped into. It was an excellent launch and I'm looking forward to seeing how far Cypress Creek Bluegrass Band wants to carry this on into the future.

Evan Clark:  Lead vocals and guitar
George Fehlner: vocals and mandolin
Gerry Stover:  Banjo
Bob Graber: vocals and bass

   

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)