Surprise, Surprise. Encountering Drymill Road

21 July 2012: Martinsburg, West Virginia

     It was supposed to be a nice day, weather-wise. After a summer of extreme weather I should have expected to be ready for anything. Who would know it would turn cold and rainy here in the foot-hills after so many days of 100-Plus degree heat? I really don't know the Martinsburg area well, so I did what I always do and got there early. I missed two turns I should have taken to get to the event site and passed a farm house that was surrounded by mules - honest-to-God mules. I didn't know anyone raised them anymore. I pulled up to an opening that went into a stand of woods and there before me were two little white signs that said "BMA." I paid 20-bucks to the lady at the entrance and then drove on in. I got the first parking spot in the field. I saw Todd Stotler there immediately (Sound Engineer with Echoes Studios) and Steve Harris (Circa Blue Band). They recounted the tale of trying to deal with a rabid raccoon that greeted them when they arrived at the performance pavilion earlier in the morning. Welcome to wild, wonderful, West Virginia. If it hadn't been for Todd I would have never gotten word about the first-ever "Grass and Grub Festival" promoted by the Bluegrass Music Alliance of Martinsburg.
     Ernie Bradley and The Grassy Ridge were on the play-bill. That was enough of a reason for me to drive an hour and a half to get there. For 20-bucks you got a meal plus an afternoon of listening to Ernie and his band, plus The Shuey Brothers, Circa Blue, Drymill Road, and The Back Creek Valley Boys. I like these smaller events more for the surprises than anything else. You never know what to expect. If nothing else you can always chalk up an interesting trip to somewhere you've never been before - and West Virginia is always interesting. I could tell from the get-go that not many paying customers were going to show up. At it's highest number I counted 98 people on the grounds with a few people coming and going, and that didn't include the band members. Maybe the weather. Maybe the fact that this was a first-time deal. Maybe promotion or lack there of  factored in. Who knows? There's always next year if enough people are interested in supporting mountain music.
     The Shuey Brothers (Harrisburg, Pa.) kicked off the program and I felt sorry for them because they were dressed in Hawaiian shirts. They had to be freezing up there. They were OK. Nothing spectacular. Or maybe it was nervousness at having to be the kick-off act. The on-stage banter and joking got a little long-winded. Circa Blue came on. Another band I'd only heard about but had never experienced. Unfortunately for most of their set they were missing the mandolin player and compliments to Steve Harris for pulling it through. You live and learn to cope with the unpredictable - like rabid raccoons and 58-degree weather in the middle of July. Then the program really got interesting when Drymill Road took over.
     Out of Winchester, Virginia, Drymill Road is headed up by Sean Loomis on guitar and vocals. To say it's headed up by Sean Loomis isn't telling the whole story. Each member contributes his own expertise equally to Sean's lead guitar. Launching off into dark minor strains, I was waiting for a bluegrass band that was bringing Klezmer music to the hills of West Virginia. Or maybe Nuevo Flamenco. This was different - very, very different and I was wondering what this audience of bluegrass die-hards was thinking. The trick was in resolving back to very traditional mountain music forms and riffs. They were making a statement: We can play that stuff and play different stuff, too. Sean Loomis was going through so many key changes it made my head spin and he'd challenge Robert Mabe (banjo), Doug Ross (mandolin), and David Hurt (Bass), to keep up with him. These guys drive like a well-oiled machine and their set was non-stop. I hate to say this, but you could move this group into a jazz club and no one would be disappointed; they are that good at what they do. Their brand of music is about paying homage to authentic bluegrass, while presenting it in an innovative way. This isn't the Punch Brothers and it's not 'newgrass.' It's just very refreshing, and it's done well. Doug Ross finished off the set with Jimmy Martin's "Freeborn Man." That did it for me. Made me a fan of Drymill Road. When I got back to my laptop I pulled them up on YouTube to see what was there. None of the videos do them any justice. You have to experience them up front and real and in a live performance to appreciate their talent.

On The Frontier of Bluegrass

Herb Martin III, Steve Unkart, and Kody Norris at Spring Grove, Pa.

11 March 2012:

      I'm headed north again, back across the Mason/Dixon Line to check out a venue I hadn't been to before. The name of it drives me nuts. Whoever owns this place could have come up with a better name than "Goofy's." I have to keep reminding myself that's not the point of the expedition on this fine, early spring day. It's another late afternoon-early evening show with Aspen Run Bluegrass Band. The weather is spectacular, there's hardly any traffic between here and Baltimore and northward to the York, Pennsylvania area. Twenty miles north of the Baltimore Beltway, near the state line, the country-side turns into rolling foothills of horse-farms and corn-fields. Winding creeks appear. The roads keep getting smaller. The trees are already beyond budding stage and sprouting green. I have a little difficulty with the change in Route numbers between Maryland and Pa. but I find the right road and head directly north to Spring Grove, Pennsylvania. I see a sign that says "28 more Miles." Then it happens. I start following a young woman in a station wagon with Maryland plates who's lolly-gagging along at 35-40-45 miles an hour. There is nothing but solid yellow-lines, lots of hills and curves, 'No-Passing' signs every mile or so, and I'm boiling. Traffic behind me is piling up. She's braking on every hill, every curve, across every little bridge over the numerous creeks. After about five miles of this nonsense, and no way to pass her, I notice my first Pa. Speed Sign: 45MPH! It stayed 45 and sometimes went down even further to 25 for the whole 28 miles. I'm glad I left home early.

      I had to laugh at my impatience. It gave me a long time to sit on my rear end and enjoy the country side and listen to some favorite music. If people behind me were building their impatience with me, then so be it. It gave me time to reflect upon this part of Pennsylvania. For those who never studied their history or cared about it, this was once the Frontier. The end of the known world to the first colonists who settled beyond Philadelphia. The Susquehanna River was a natural dividing line. I was born and raised way beyond the line, westward, in what was once known as Ohio Territory. Practically all land west of central Pennsylvania was known simply as "Ohio." Where I was born and almost all the way south to Virginia was once vast tracts of property owned by George Washington. The region gave rise to numerous important historical events as the population moved toward the Ohio River. The French and Indian War, the American Revolution, the Whiskey Rebellion, the growth of the Industrial Revolution, to name a few. Back then, the Allegheny Mountains was the wall dividing civilization from barbarism and few hearty souls ventured beyond. George himself made several fascinating journeys through the area to look after his properties and attempt to collect rents, but he recorded that the population was so vile and unruly he returned empty-handed to Mount Vernon.

      I'm on "The Frontier" again and thoroughly having a nice time driving along at probably some of the same speeds as George's Nag. I finally got my opportunity on a steep hill just a few miles south of Spring Grove. All clear ahead. The hell with 45 MPH. I gunned it and shot around her. She gave me a dirty look. Everybody else behind me followed suit. The laugh was on me. Spring Grove was just over the hill. Nothing much to Spring Hill except the memories I have of growing up in a place like this. A life in Suburbia took its place. I feel like some of those bluegrass songs about leaving the country and moving to Mill Town only to find out that life was better "back home." I may be thinking that, but not really. I'm pretty happy living in the 'Burbs with all the conveniences of getting from Point A to Point B and my lifestyle and employment demand that I have to be near an international airport. No international airports near York, Pennsylvania. But what I do have is the ability to drive within a hundred-mile radius of Washington, DC and Baltimore and hear some of the finest bluegrass in the United States. You heard me right, folks. We're blessed with the best. And if the bigger names aren't close to us, then they'll eventually get here to entertain us.

      I like to focus on the locals. The local bands, groups, and musicians matter to me. I can always buy a ticket to a show or buy a CD or download the Stars. Modern technology has made it so much easier to access what we want most. I'd rather be on the Frontier listening to the local hard-core, or checking out some local practitioner I've heard about from somebody else; usually a local fan of that person. Back at Goofy's I run into 'followers' I'd met at Darlington, Stewartstown, and Jumbo Jimmy's. They graciously invite me to join them at their table. That's the kind of people who attend these happenings. They immediately start commenting: "Have you heard about so-and-so?" "Have you ever met this guy?" "Guess who's coming to Darlington?" A wealth of local information and gossip starts flowing. There's a whole Research Triangle of valuable bluegrass information between York, Havre de Grace, and Darlington, Maryland. It's passed on at events such as the one I'm at on this beautiful spring afternoon. Aspen Run is still two hours away from jumping up on the low stage at the end of a very breezy temporary structure at the back of the main bar and restaurant. It's nothing more than a roof and concrete floor with vinyl tenting material for walls. It can easily accommodate a hundred or more people. It's filling up at 2:30, the show doesn't start until 4:00. I'm glad I got here early. No cover charge, no minimum, no assigned seating. Get out of the way of the dancers and make all the noise you want.

     The Aspen Run Bluegrass Band showed up and started setting up their equipment. They took off like a rocket at exactly 4 pm. One reason why I wanted to see these guys today is that Kody Norris (Mountain City, Tennessee) is joining them once more and that's always a guaranteed, excellent, performance. He brings forth The Ralph Stanley Gospel Book of Bluegrass as if he's the young High Priest of Opry Land. That's probably over the top, but what the hell. Aspen Run and Kody Norris combined is great entertainment - great music. I've got my eye on this young kid and the band, too. It's a pleasure to watch them work a crowd.

     As the afternoon wore on and the light dimmed, no one slipped out of the place. Tomorrow is a work-day. No one seemed tired or bored. As often happens at an Aspen Run performance, the requests for favorite songs started coming. The numerous requests were fulfilled. Each set crescendoed into a better 'next-set.' They finished with my favorite, "Free Born Man." What's absolutely great about this band is how much they've improved since I first encountered them at the Lucketts Fair. Some musicians really deserve to be heard and to 'make it' (whatever that means). Aspen Run Bluegrass, and Kody Norris too, are in that category.

It'll Probably Sound Pretty Good On a Dobro

Joey Longwell - with Ernie Bradley and Grassy Ridge at a Lucketts performance

Leap-Day, 2012

This weekend we'll be celebrating Chopin's Birthday at the Embassy of Poland with a special recital and a feast prepared by the Embassy Chef. We've been attending this for a number of years now and look forward to it annually. The music is magnificent, the food is always marvelous, the Polish people are the most gracious on the planet and the tickets are cheap! Getting the tickets is the hard part, but we don't seem to have a problem. As always I amaze myself. I'm ravaged by a number of addictions of which I'm quite proud. I love Monsieur Chopin and Jimmy Martin, Puccini's not bad, either. I don't have to make any decisions on any of it. It's all of a certain value included in that great nebulous subject entitled "matter of tastes." What's pleasant to one person is disgusting to another. Politically, I've become a libertarian music lover if you really have to put a name on it. It wasn't always this way. At my age I've discarded a lot of what I used to listen to and appreciated, only to discover that there is so much more I need to learn about in all forms of music.

Let's get to the bluegrass. I've written before that it's something I used to listen to in my college days and then put away somewhere in my foggy days of yesteryear. A few years ago a chance meeting with Roger Green and the Annapolis Bluegrass Coalition got me back into it. It was a free, winter concert at our local community center here in town. It was a spur-of-the-moment decision to even go to the show in the first place. I walked out of the show with that feeling of having revisited a lot of child-hood memories of my old man listening to this hillbilly stuff on the radio and me and my siblings hating it. Rock and Roll was just entering the pop radio scene and the older folks hated it. A culture war was about to explode and we didn't know it. I went off to the military and still have memories of Country and Western music being called "Shit-Kicking Music!" The 60's were my formation years. College told me I had to appreciate music 'on a higher level' than what I had been accustomed to. Snobbery exists on every level of the human experience.

Marriage, work, raising a family, getting older changes everything. Try to tell that to the average young person. The more time I spend in my garden the more I appreciate that I'm getting older right along with all else in the universe. I went back to that music I once laughed at. There are a lot of generalizations written and espoused by people who write about, and scholarly study this peculiar American music form called bluegrass. I try not to be swayed by the general comments. I think most of them are wrong. The one piece of truth is this: it's something that will always stay the same but will also be constantly evolving. That truth I can easily appreciate. Davy Jones (of Monkees fame) died yesterday and no one noted how many Monkees hits were re-released by some very well-known bluegrass groups. Just another example of bluegrass music's ability to appreciate another form of music, grab it and run with it. It's hard to imagine any of today's pretty-boy Country and Western stars singing "Last Train to Clarksville" and getting away with it. But bluegrass? Yeah. It'll probably sound pretty good if the banjo, mandolin, guitar, and fiddle can get the beat coordinated. A good dobro player would have a blast with it.

Straight-Up Bluegrass in Port Deposit

Mike Harknett, James Langer, Fred Long, Rex Smith, and Darin Wassum

26 February 2012 This is a follow-up of sorts to an article I promised back in January after seeing AcrosstheTrack Bluegrass up in Brunswick. One thing led to another and I never got around to it, but I had stayed in touch with guitar-player Darin Wassum. Actually what I wanted was another opportunity to see the group again, and I wanted to see the group on their own turf. It never seems the same. You see an act on stage and then you see an act in a bar or club and it's a different experience. For one thing the bar sets are longer so you get to experience a wide range of what a group is actually capable of. You also get to know if the band has a loyal following of locals. I've discovered that this is an important ingredient. I wasn't surprised on a Sunday afternoon at Jumbo Jimmy's Crab Shack up in Port Deposit, Maryland, when I had the opportunity to sit through a whole 4-hour set with these guys. That's a lot of music. It was preceeded by a "Jam" held there every Sunday by the locals, many of whom stuck around for the main show.

By everyone's standards AcrosstheTrack Bluegrass is not an established band but they've already racked up a reputation over in Maryland. The band members are Darin Wassum, James Langer, Fred Long, and Rex Smith. On Sunday afternoon Mike Harknett (fiddle) joined them and he added a necessary momentum to the playing. I enjoyed talking to Mike in between sets since he's a walking history book of who's playing with who over in Maryland. It's also reported that Fred Long (banjo) is also a local legend. The band plays straight old-time bluegrass. No funny-stuff, no fusion, nobody is pushing a song they wrote. They were best when they were ALL singing, and working on their harmonies. The only detriment was a little distracting crowd noise, but you have to accept that in a local pub and restaurant. But when they were on top of a song or playing hell-fire, the crowd noise ceased. Darin's got the best voice and can hold his own in front of a noisy crowd. This might be a minor point but I have to include it: does anyone want to get up and dance to this stuff? Jumbo Jimmy's seemed like the place to do some two-stepping on a late Sunday afternoon. You must be doing something right if you're moving the crowd. On this point the bass-guy never gets enough mention for doing the yeoman's amount of work. Fred Long's wild banjo-picking also proved to be a valuable asset.

AcrosstheTrack Bluegrass will be playing at the Darlington/Dublin VFW Post on March 3rd and it should prove to be worth the drive.

Establishing a Standard of Excellence

Gold Heart at Brunswick 29 January 2012

It's been an evolutionary story. I love to hear about someone's dream and then actually see it come to fruition. That's what's happened up in Brunswick, Maryland with the formation of Brunswick Roundhouse Concert Productions. The history began on 26 July, 2009 when Darren Beachley and Company up in Brunswick decided to stage a fundraiser for the Brunswick Junior Baseball League. The response was so good Darren decided to try it again the next summer on 10 July, 2010. Another success. This time the proceeds would be divided up among the various Brunswick High School student activities and booster groups. I suspected the successful concerts would evolve to the next level and that was legal incorporation into the current "BRCP" organization. The plan was to stage events that would assist all the booster groups at the High School. Brunswick High School is a unique institution suffering through the current economic crisis along with every school, arts or entertainment group, museum, or any entity that depends upon public support during these hard times. Student activities are limited unless the booster groups and parents step up to the plate and help the kids. Thus Brunswick Roundhouse Concert Productions was born to ease the burden and the concerts have been growing in popularity due to Darren's effort to bring quality entertainment to the Brunswick High School Stage. Others should be mentioned too, as very much a big part of the success story: There is the whole Beachley family, The Roy Hossler Family, other families from the booster groups, and a host of local businesses and a popular Frederick radio station who continue to pony up time and monetary donations to keep the momentum going. Here's a list of what's been accomplished so far:
26 July 2009: Darren Beachley and Friends, plus Kenny Ray Horton.

10 July 2010: Bill Yates and the Country Gentlemen Tribute Band, plus Darren Beachley and the Legends of the Potomac.

21 November 2010: The Legends of the Potomac, plus the Dry Branch Fire Squad.

30 January 2011: Lost and Found, plus Kenny Ray Horton and Washington Junction.

20 March 2011: Little Roy and Lizzie Show.

12 June 2011: Beachley and Scott Band, plus Darin and Brooke Aldridge.

20 November 2011: Dry Branch Fire Squad, plus AcrosstheTrack Bluegrass Band.

29 January 2012: Darren Beachley and Friends, plus Gold Heart.

Coming Soon:

29 April 2012: Dailey and Vincent (seats for this concert are going fast)

10 June 2012: David Davis and the Warrior River Boys, plus the Bluegrass Mountaineers.

This season BRCP offered a special price for season tickets which essentially gives you the price of one free concert. Donations to BRCP are also tax-deductible. For further information contact http://www.brunswickbluegrass.org/ It's an excellent website.

Great music. Very entertaining. A program to suit every bluegrass fan's taste in acoustical music. But more important, community involvement on a local level bringing a lot of people together to work toward community goals. I can't think of a better way to spend my money. "It just keeps getting better" sounds like a worn-out sentiment in 2012, but there's no better description for the effort the people of Brunswick have put forth. They're all to be congratulated.

Bingo!

Kody Norris and Aspen Run Bluegrass at Darlington, Maryland on 17 December 2011

17 December 2011 - Darlington, Maryland

Herb Martin thinks I'm heading up north to do some work for him. Take some pictures, schmooze with the band, maybe write something. I'm really just slumming on a late Saturday afternoon. Odd thing is, I'm listening to Puccini's Madama Butterfly live from the Met on WETA-FM while on my way to listen to a whole evening of Beer-drinking music at a VFW Post I've never been to in my life. I love Puccini. I love these roads to nowhere, somewhere in central Maryland. It's all Herb's fault. He gets me into these things. "You oughta come up to so-and-so on such-and-such a date" he tells me. I immediately get on Google and try to figure out where these places are. Us slummers are lost five miles outside the Beltway. I knew I'd made a wrong turn somewhere going through Belair. Eight miles later I found a country road which would take me directly north to Darlington, which isn't even on any of the printed or internet mapping systems. All I had to go by was a print-out of an intersection and the VFW Post was supposed to be near the intersection. It was getting really dark around 5:00 pm.

It's all part of the adventure of being in new surroundings. I don't even know if people use the word "slumming" anymore. It means having a snob attitude about yourself, and leaning away from the finer pursuits of life and going lower than your status to enjoy something more "common." I really like Opera, but you're not allowed to get up and dance during any part of it. There's little in Opera that makes you want to get drunk and leave your wife, or else kill your wife's sweetheart. For that you need to listen to Jimmy Martin. That's why I'm on this latest quest to spend an evening in what is basically a country Beer-Joint with Herb Martin and his boys Herb Martin III, Aaron Martin, and Clayton Martin. Let me mention two other important people who are key to this: Steve Unkart and Kody Norris. I'm not about to kill my wife or shoot the guy who's fooling around with her. I'm just escaping Puccini for a little while to listen to something a hell of a lot more relevent than some rat of a U.S. Navy Officer who dumps his girlfriend in feudal Japan. Steve Unkart, who has to be a Jimmy Martin clone can handle my sense of entertainment for the evening.

I got there early even if I went out of my way. My cheap compass got me there, right where I was supposed to be. The Darlington Post was definitely in nowhere. I went inside and made sure everyone in the bar knew I was a veteran and also a member of the VFW. I might like Opera and the finer things in life, but damn it, I also served my country. I hate bars. Everyone gives you "The Look" when you open the door. I made sure I had my Third Marine Division pin on too, in case there were any Marines in the place who wanted to come up and slap me on the back and shake hands. The Army guys don't do this when they meet. The whole thing is kind of creepy the way they don't acknowledge each other. They won't even buy you a drink. So I don't trust Army guys in places like this. Dean Ashley did walk up and welcomed me to the Post and he introduced himself. I told him I liked bluegrass and was here to see the band. His eyes lit up. He launched into a monologue about the Post's music program, the crowd that hangs out there, and some of the name-bands that have played there. OK, I thought, I'm beginning to be impressed.

Near six-o'clock others started coming through the door to enjoy the early dinner of meatloaf, mashed potatoes, green beans and corn bread. A nice bunch of people. Salt of the Earth-types out for a Saturday night of music and dancing. A few people came in that I'd met previously in Stewartstown, Pennsylvania. Another couple grabbed me and told me all about the bluegrass scene that is alive and well up here in the middle of nowhere, and who was playing where, and are you going to this-and-that festival? It was all a prelude to a night of experiencing Aspen Run Bluegrass. And pretty soon they were coming through the door like the opening scene in Act III, Scene 5, of der Meistersinger. Kody Norris was supposed to be with them but I didn't see him immediately. I thought maybe there had been a change in the plans. Aspen Run was just a tad bit late arriving, but that was OK because the audience was still filing in too, and asking if there was any meatloaf left. They looked outstanding in their red coats, trade-mark cowboy hats, and white boots. Herb Martin, the patriarch of the Martin Clan nodded a hello and got to work setting up the equipment. I had set my cameras and gear up long before they arrived and thought I was in perfect proximity for what I wanted to do. I was in for a surprise.

There was some crowd noise towards the back and I turned to see Kody Norris appear as if he was stepping into Akhnaten, by Philip Glass. The coronation scene in Act I came to mind. Kody, young, baby-faced, and cock-sure of himself, marched in with his signature blue, Porter Wagoner-knock off, embroidered cowboy outfit with flame-red neckerchief. You have to ask yourself "What the hell is this?" until you see him do his thing. I've seen him before so I knew what to expect. He puts on a show and deserves to wear whatever he wants. The outfit is half-joke, all seriousness, as a tribute to all those great practitioners who taught him the tricks of putting on a good show for the paying customers. If you read his resume you'll be shocked at what this punk-kid has already accomplished in the Nashville circles. After some minor adjustments, Aspen Run and Kody Norris took off like a jet plane with their whole canon of Jimmy Martin, Stanley Brothers, and Bill Monroe numbers. The audience responded in kind with dancing all night and a lot of hooting and hollering and appreciative shouting.

There is a dynamic working here that becomes very apparent: Pretty Boy musician plays up against the locals and sometimes wins. Sometimes the locals win. The contest isn't really about competition but about how well they all sound together and the intricate statements they can make with a few stringed instruments and their individualized voices. Having seen their act before I knew what to expect. I knew their individual strengths. I was surprised on this particular evening by young Clayton Martin (mandolin) who's really got a beautiful voice that needs to be honed to perfection. Age and experience will do that. I was also pleasantly surprised that the group just seemed better than I've ever seen them in a performance. The proof was in the fact that they had the audience in the palms of their hands. There were so many requests coming in (shouted!) for Aspen Run favorites, that the band seemed a little overwhelmed by the appreciation. You can't play them all. You eventually have to quit and pack up your instruments and wipe the sweat off your brow. The finale was an 11-minute medley of favorites. Bingo!

My filming and photo work was useless. A huge glaring Bingo Board was in every shot. Every time the band got hot the dance floor got hotter and in my way. And then, I don't know why, but a continually flashing, glaring disco spotlight that flashed red, green, and blue ruined my camera lighting. I wanted Dean Ashley to turn the thing off. But I wasn't getting it. The audience was there to have fun on Saturday night and listen to their favorite music, drink some beers, and think back upon better times when we listened to this stuff on an old Philco Radio. It was great to see the crowd having a good time. They were having more fun than I've ever had at the Opera - and I have to dress up in Black Tie for that! I said the heck with it and joined the audience. There will be other opportunities to get the photo shots. A performance by Aspen Run is about having fun and appreciating the music.

Where the Concrete Meets the Grass

Danny Paisley and Southern Grass included the talents of Aaron Martin on Bass.

12 November 2011: Leonardtown, Maryland

That crazy Herb Martin - always leading me down back roads. I'm heading south on Maryland Rt. 5 on my way to Leonardtown on a beautiful Autumn day on a whim. If you live around here, you're probably like me, and realize that any trip around the Beltway, especially on the Maryland side may include a packed bag, a pocket full of money and a fully charged cell phone in case your stuck for a couple of days. I'm tired of it. It's really time to move away from here where people lead decent lives and make it home in time for dinner. Well, by God I made it to the exit for Rt. 5 and now I'm traveling through the concrete jungle toward Waldorf. Past Waldorf you enter real country - suburbia ends around here - the bedroom communities, strip malls, the mile after mile of townhouse complexes. I even saw a few farms. Signs with the name Surratt on them reminded me that I was in some seriously historic territory. Thirty miles beyond Waldorf I reached my destination and beautiful Maryland countryside it was. Flat farmland, a few little towns with only one or two stoplights, and here and there Amish stores that advertised hand-made goods and fresh Amish food products. Crab stands were appearing too, which reminded me that I wasn't that far away from the water. It was a good day to get away from suburbia and enjoy some down-home music.

The event was a benefit fundraiser for Richard Tippett at the Back Road Inn a few miles east of Leonardtown. After a serious illness and thousands of dollars in medical bills, the Tippett family was trying to raise money. Daughter-in-law Linda Tippett was the driving force and seemed to be the main point of contact for the event. Linda also plays bass and sings with Joey Tippett and the California Ramblers. Notable was the line-up of entertainment for the afternoon - the Tippetts had included Junior Sisk and Ramblers' Choice, Danny Paisley and Southern Grass, Aspen Run, The Jack Tippett Band, Joey Tippett and the California Ramblers, and Highway 249.

As in so many families I've met on similar roads around here, bluegrass seems to be in the DNA. Younger grand daughters Megan and Heather joined in for vocal solos early on. Megan was especially proficient on a rendition of "Blue Moon of Kentucky." As promised, the music started about a minute after 12 noon and continued non-stop long after I finally left at 6:30.

Jack Tippett served as a warm-up to Joey Tippett and the Ramblers, who served as warm-up to Junior Sisk, and when Danny Paisley came on it was Katy-bar-the-door wildness of high-energy music for six solid hours. The crowd grew too as the day wore on and it got chillier. The Back Road Inn is a crazy patchwork of temporary add-on structures and tents that are open-air, but with a nice stage and dance area. Food was provided along with plenty of baked goods for sale. Word spread that the event was now going to go three more hours beyond the allotted time. I would have liked to stay, but it was getting too cold. Any warmth was provided by the propane heaters and the body heat of all the dancers who energized the scene when Aspen Run came on.

It's just too bad I got spoiled throughout the afternoon. Let me explain. My point of entertainment observation is usually from the vantage of an auditorium or a concert venue. There's a big difference in being stuck in a chair for one or two hours as opposed to a free-for-all space like the Back Road Inn. It was more like a barn with a stage stuck in the middle. The outdoor bar was noisy and wafts of cigar smoke drifted among the mixture of musicians and local patrons. It all made for the musicians to work a lot harder to entertain this free-flow bunch of people. Herb Martin once told me that his band Aspen Run actually sounds better and has more fun in this kind of setting. Herb proved his point at this show and the one I witnessed a week ago in Stewartstown, Pennsylvania. If you want to hoot and holler and get up and dance there's nothing to stop you. Steve Unkart and Herb Martin, III of Aspen Run worked their high-energy magic to get the patrons up on their feet and moving. Beyond the grass, in the middle of the world of concrete we would have politely applauded and got up to stretch at break-time. And it's a blessing to see younger people doing all the dancing and getting into this music which is so ancient by the standards of the younger generation! There's hope that grass will live long beyond the life of my grand daughter.

Consider that I paid a whopping $10 to enjoy all this and would never have known about it if I hadn't heard about it from Herb Martin. Yeah, we've got a lot of great music in our area. It gets better when you find the line between the concrete and the grass.

(Thanks to the Herb Martin Family and Aspen Run Band for the hot tip on this unique event!)