Sometimes things just fall into place. And sometimes you need to push real hard to finish the puzzle.
As I have previously explained, this column is devoted to the first-hand documentation of the birth and growth of a bluegrass band. We have a timeframe and a deadline. April 2. Thirteen days. And we have pressure. The bluegrass band is born, so now we let her grow.
Let me first introduce the players: Ian plays guitar and banjo, Zach plays guitar and mandolin, Chrissy and Lauren sing and arrange things, Theresa plays the fiddle and I play banjo, guitar and sing. They're a good, solid group of kids. And more might come. I am confident, but God knows I got worry.
I don't worry about having songs by Judgment Day, as it were. We have a bunch of old standards already suitably under our collective belts, and a few originals we're working on.
I don't worry about talent; I'm pretty sure that between us we have the vocal range to nail those mean harmonies, and most everyone can totally shred their respective instruments.
The thing that worries me is finding our roots. Not necessarily trying to sound particularly authentic, as that is one bird we can't hope to catch and it would be folly to attempt to do so, given we're young and not in jail or dying. What worries me is getting all of us, who come from diverse musical backgrounds, into some semblance of a hollerin' string and voice choir, one that'll get folks clappin' and hollerin' right back at us.
To get us there, to that boot-stompin', hollerin' place, I have attempted to enlist the help of an older and wiser generation than our own to give us advice from way back. Thirty or so years ago, our own WAMU radio station, right down there on Brandywine, was a haven for bluegrass and folk music in general. At the helm of this commitment to traditional music were a slew of folks, in particular Dick Spottswood and Gary Henderson. Together and with others they started bluegrass magazines and bluegrass radio shows and more.
I exhausted many avenues trying to talk to one of these guys. I talked to the WAMU Human Resources director, I talked to my uncle and bluegrass aficionado in Northern Virginia, and finally I talked, through e-mail, to Gary Henderson. Thankfully, Henderson agreed to an interview, after many dead ends and near misses.
He helped me out a lot during our conversation, telling me stories about Bill Monroe and the Blue Grass boys, the founders of bluegrass back in the '40s. He told me about Lester Flatt and Earl Scruggs, who split from Monroe's group to form their own band and further develop the bluegrass sound to a faster, more driving form. The music Gary spoke of was human; he put personalities with all the names I had read so much about. It all seemed much more real to me.
I used to think of bluegrass as this ancient tradition. While its roots are old (Bill Monroe borrowed from old Celtic music as well as Appalachian mountain traditions to develop his style), bluegrass itself was born here in the States around the same time as your grandparents, maybe even a little later. Many of the founding fathers of bluegrass, like Earl Scruggs and Ralph Stanley, are still alive. It makes everything seem less distant. Bill Monroe and his Blue Grass Boys, the Stanley Brothers and all the rest of them had little else but a love for the music. In this respect, our ragtag band of players and singers might actually be able to make this thing work.
