A few nights ago in a blinding flash of
inspiration (actually a dimly lit fit of insomnia) I thought I might try to
write a very brief history of Bluegrass music.
So far my knowledge of the subject was stuff that I had gleaned from my
crazy friends, album liner notes and occasional nuggets from Kyle Cantrell or
Chris Jones. (If you don’t recognize the
names of those two fellows it’s because you aren’t a Sirius/XM subscriber tuned
to channel 61) So I vowed that when I
got up the next day I’d start some serious research and from that research I
would carefully craft a brief but fascinating treatise.
And I did. At least I started the research. Using the ever present Google and Wikipedia I
began to dig in. Then I went to our
local library and found a couple of biographies of the big names in the
business and scanned through them looking for the juicy stuff that might spice
up the story. There was some seamy
material but somewhere along the way most of the giants of Bluegrass got
squared away and went on to lead productive and not terribly gossip worthy
lives. Almost all of those giants came
from humble beginnings and steadily worked at becoming masters of their craft
so that they could make music, usually about their humble beginnings. Or love.
Or faith. Or work. Or music.
So that sent me off on another tangent
(I’m easily sent off) thinking about what a dull corner of show business
Bluegrass occupies. In other parts of
the world of entertainment the big stars can’t seem to get their dirty little
secrets out in public fast enough.
Magazines, tabloid papers and TV “news” shows are all about the scandals
of singers, actors and politicians. Talk
shows are quick to book the slimiest characters on the circuit. That reminds me of a line from an article by
William Zinsser – “Then talk shows were born and shame went out the window.” Now that’s a true fact and I believe that
Bluegrass artists still understand what it is to have a sense of shame.
There I was with a pile of notes about
Bill Monroe, Ralph Stanley, the Louvin Brothers, the Carter family, Ricky
Skaggs and many more. I had stuff about
the little record companies and the promoters and festivals. There were stories about how people from
outside the Bluegrass world came inside and scammed some artists and left them
high and dry. But most of my notes were
like this.
“Born
on a farm in (fill in the blank).
Learned how to play from a grandfather, parent, aunt, uncle. When he/she heard (fill in another blank)
he/she was inspired to try and make a living in Bluegrass. Struggled for a time, built up recognition,
made some records, gradually survived and eventually made a decent living.”
Story after story goes like that. Of course not all of the big names came from
a farm. But there aren’t many who popped
up out of New York City or Los Angeles.
And there are very, very few Bluegrass artists, past or present, who
suddenly arrived at the top of the heap.
There is no “Star Making Machine” in the Bluegrass business. Fan bases are built at a glacial pace, one
listener at a time. And that, I believe,
is a large part of the appeal of this music.
It is built so firmly on friendship and honesty that it just feels good
to follow and to be involved in, even if being involved is just sitting on a
lawn chair at some rural festival.
I’m still going to write that history
some day in the future. I’ve got a lot
more to learn before I can do justice to the subject though. Meanwhile I’m going to see if I can find a
concert or show nearby. It’s time for
another shot of that Bluegrass music.
Have a fine day.
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