Today I'm delighted to bring you an American classic in a musical style which in its own day was designated by no specific name, except that of “hillbilly song."
If anybody has SiriusXM in their car, I highly recommend their bluegrass channel. It’s called Bluegrass Junction. (It’s currently channel 77 but they do change it around sometimes.) Great music 24/7.
A few years ago I was thinking about bluegrass music—-about the culture that produced much of it: often very poor and isolated and yet taking time to create art. That got me searching bluegrass festivals on YouTube to see if it is still living. I was so glad to see that it is indeed vibrant! I was especially gratified to see the large number of children who were participating in festivals and competing in music contests. They play fiddle, guitar, banjo. They sing, they dance. The level of performance is high. There are families who perform together, too. One of the biggest bluegrass festivals is held in Galax, Virginia. I live in northern Virginia and wondered how all this was going on behind my back!
Yes, Bluegrass is thriving! In surprising places! All of this gives me hope, because as long as people are making real music somewhere, this old world is not done yet. During Covid I determined to play my guitar again, after a long hiatus. After a few weeks, the bridge began to lift from my beautiful mellow old Guild guitar, and rats! There's no luthier around here anymore, so I put it back in its case for when I can get it repaired. Meantime I bought myself a very nice Zager guitar, and got back on board right away. BOY! I was rusty. But every time I played (EVERY TIME) the musical and muscle memory started stirring again. It's four years later now, and I have to try so hard to make time, to fit in the making of music. But what a joy that is, and how much real peace it brings me to do it. Our world is filled with so much noise all the time, and so many distractions. We need badly to be making music again!
I started piano lessons this year. My last lesson was circa 1970 and I’d been a reluctant student. I told my new teacher that I had learned little and knew nothing. As it turns out, I did have muscle memory—at least for my right hand and the treble staff. My left—well, it was as if I was seeing all of that for the first time. I am now playing sonatas and minuets by Mozart and Beethoven—not perfectly but beyond my expectations. It is a wonderful challenge, one that will endure. It is a refreshing, bottomless well.
Earl's story is not a-typical of many "unschooled" musicians of his time. There was a lot more to it. He was the youngest child in a poor family, and his father died when he was only four years old. That would have been 1928, on the verge of the Great Depression, His family was musical, and his father had been a banjo player. His mother played the pump organ, so the music went on after his father's death. But he discovered his father's guitar as a little little child and began to try to play it then. That fascination never left him. It was his legacy from his father. Bill Monroe was so angry at Lester and Earle when they left the band that he wouldn't speak to them for over 20 years. And he lobbied against them for the place they rightfully deserved as members of the Grand Ol' Opry. They finally were invited to become members only after a big sponsor of the Opry, Martha White Flour, threatened to pull their sponsorship of the radio broadcast if Lester and Earl didn't get in! And the Opry had to do the right thing. And I think that it was only in the 1960's and following that people began to realize just what a big role Earl had played in bringing what we now call Bluegrass music into its own. Stories, stories, stories!
Yep, for good and not so good, people! My mother was born in 1934, fifth daughter in a family of 13 children (four more boys were born after her). Their poverty was dire, simply dire. But the wealth came from the family itself, which grew and to my benefit (my mother was only able to have one child, me) provided me a huge extended family, with 43 first cousins, most of them living nearby, all of whom I saw weekly, if not daily. The one family that lived "away," was my Aunt Ruth's, because she married a dairy farmer in upstate NY -- and that farm was a summer get-away for my mother's entire family, who took turns visiting and lending a hand with the farm work. For us kids, it was a paradise better than any "summer enrichment program" that parents enroll their kids in during summer to get them out of their hair. ALL of my cousins have the same farm memories as I have, though the families rarely overlapped when they visited. That was the kind of wealth that money can't buy.
A magnificent heritage! It often occurs to me that every single generation which preceded mine, all those women, had harder lives than mine. My hardest work would be a cakewalk to them. Yet, they persevered, and bore children, or I wouldn't be here. My own mom, born 1932, had four siblings and was raised on a farm. Once she mentioned that supper in the farmhouse was sometimes a bowl of milk, with a slice of bread in it. Those five siblings averaged two children apiece, and we were often together at our grandparents' farm.
Amen to that. I am so fortunate to have had a farm in my family when I was growing up -- and beyond. My aunt and uncle had retired from diary farming by the time my kids came along, but they'd bought a "small place" of only about 90 acres and were raising pigs and growing produce in their "retirement. My parents lived about as far from the farm from their home in Pennsylvania as Tony and I did in Rhode Island, so we took to meeting there over Columbus Day weekend every year. I was so very glad for my kids to have that experience, and to enjoy it as I did. I'm ever grateful for those wonderful folks who were my family, and for knowing that way of life which is quite gone now.
This is truly heart-pounding music, Debra. It puts me in mind of champion banjo player Roger Sprung who died last year at age 92. He developed what he called Progressive Bluegrass, as well as melding bluegrass with Irish music, which he dubbed Irish-Grass. The album he recorded with this titled has become a collector's item. And, he always loved to quote Kay Starr's famous comment, "It's hard to play a sad song on a banjo."
Bluegrass has made a huge comeback (if it ever left) in the past 25 years. In 1975 I went to what was then called a "Fiddler's Convention" (think Woodstock for Bluegrass musicians) in North Carolina with my friends who had a Christian band but were overall excellent musicians. Sometimes I sang with them. And the place was packed, even with a driving rain that never quit and the everyone camped out in tents. We finally got washed out, but I have great memories of that event, and the guys toting around the big bass in what looked like a "body bag" and ALL the music. I'll have to check out Sprung's Irish-Grass! My friend from the Christian band, by the way, turned entirely to Bluegrass and took up the mandolin, after being a guitarist all his youth. He also plays fiddle. He's worked steadily as a Bluegrass musician for the past 30 years. The music has great staying power.
This summer I attended an after Bible school church social. There was a 4 piece band…guitar, upright bass, violin(fiddle), and banjo. The musicians played quite the variety of music while the kids and parents munched on pizza and cookies. The music was basically background and was mostly drowned out by all the excited chatter…UNTIL the band broke out Foggy Mt Breakdown. The munching and chatter ended, and the only audience noise was tapping feet.
Love this!!! My family is all Bluegrass!!!!
If anybody has SiriusXM in their car, I highly recommend their bluegrass channel. It’s called Bluegrass Junction. (It’s currently channel 77 but they do change it around sometimes.) Great music 24/7.
A few years ago I was thinking about bluegrass music—-about the culture that produced much of it: often very poor and isolated and yet taking time to create art. That got me searching bluegrass festivals on YouTube to see if it is still living. I was so glad to see that it is indeed vibrant! I was especially gratified to see the large number of children who were participating in festivals and competing in music contests. They play fiddle, guitar, banjo. They sing, they dance. The level of performance is high. There are families who perform together, too. One of the biggest bluegrass festivals is held in Galax, Virginia. I live in northern Virginia and wondered how all this was going on behind my back!
Yes, Bluegrass is thriving! In surprising places! All of this gives me hope, because as long as people are making real music somewhere, this old world is not done yet. During Covid I determined to play my guitar again, after a long hiatus. After a few weeks, the bridge began to lift from my beautiful mellow old Guild guitar, and rats! There's no luthier around here anymore, so I put it back in its case for when I can get it repaired. Meantime I bought myself a very nice Zager guitar, and got back on board right away. BOY! I was rusty. But every time I played (EVERY TIME) the musical and muscle memory started stirring again. It's four years later now, and I have to try so hard to make time, to fit in the making of music. But what a joy that is, and how much real peace it brings me to do it. Our world is filled with so much noise all the time, and so many distractions. We need badly to be making music again!
I started piano lessons this year. My last lesson was circa 1970 and I’d been a reluctant student. I told my new teacher that I had learned little and knew nothing. As it turns out, I did have muscle memory—at least for my right hand and the treble staff. My left—well, it was as if I was seeing all of that for the first time. I am now playing sonatas and minuets by Mozart and Beethoven—not perfectly but beyond my expectations. It is a wonderful challenge, one that will endure. It is a refreshing, bottomless well.
That is absolutely wonderful, Margaret! And you will continue to improve, I am sure, sometimes with leaps, I predict!
Dazzling! Your essay gives this amazing music a setting which becomes it. Well done, all!
And to think of the power of one person to introduce something new, and good, into culture… Glory to God!
Earl's story is not a-typical of many "unschooled" musicians of his time. There was a lot more to it. He was the youngest child in a poor family, and his father died when he was only four years old. That would have been 1928, on the verge of the Great Depression, His family was musical, and his father had been a banjo player. His mother played the pump organ, so the music went on after his father's death. But he discovered his father's guitar as a little little child and began to try to play it then. That fascination never left him. It was his legacy from his father. Bill Monroe was so angry at Lester and Earle when they left the band that he wouldn't speak to them for over 20 years. And he lobbied against them for the place they rightfully deserved as members of the Grand Ol' Opry. They finally were invited to become members only after a big sponsor of the Opry, Martha White Flour, threatened to pull their sponsorship of the radio broadcast if Lester and Earl didn't get in! And the Opry had to do the right thing. And I think that it was only in the 1960's and following that people began to realize just what a big role Earl had played in bringing what we now call Bluegrass music into its own. Stories, stories, stories!
Those amazing 'poor' families! Who were so rich, in so many things. And my, the tenacity of a grudge. People are something.
Yep, for good and not so good, people! My mother was born in 1934, fifth daughter in a family of 13 children (four more boys were born after her). Their poverty was dire, simply dire. But the wealth came from the family itself, which grew and to my benefit (my mother was only able to have one child, me) provided me a huge extended family, with 43 first cousins, most of them living nearby, all of whom I saw weekly, if not daily. The one family that lived "away," was my Aunt Ruth's, because she married a dairy farmer in upstate NY -- and that farm was a summer get-away for my mother's entire family, who took turns visiting and lending a hand with the farm work. For us kids, it was a paradise better than any "summer enrichment program" that parents enroll their kids in during summer to get them out of their hair. ALL of my cousins have the same farm memories as I have, though the families rarely overlapped when they visited. That was the kind of wealth that money can't buy.
A magnificent heritage! It often occurs to me that every single generation which preceded mine, all those women, had harder lives than mine. My hardest work would be a cakewalk to them. Yet, they persevered, and bore children, or I wouldn't be here. My own mom, born 1932, had four siblings and was raised on a farm. Once she mentioned that supper in the farmhouse was sometimes a bowl of milk, with a slice of bread in it. Those five siblings averaged two children apiece, and we were often together at our grandparents' farm.
God bless them, every one.🙏
Amen to that. I am so fortunate to have had a farm in my family when I was growing up -- and beyond. My aunt and uncle had retired from diary farming by the time my kids came along, but they'd bought a "small place" of only about 90 acres and were raising pigs and growing produce in their "retirement. My parents lived about as far from the farm from their home in Pennsylvania as Tony and I did in Rhode Island, so we took to meeting there over Columbus Day weekend every year. I was so very glad for my kids to have that experience, and to enjoy it as I did. I'm ever grateful for those wonderful folks who were my family, and for knowing that way of life which is quite gone now.
This is truly heart-pounding music, Debra. It puts me in mind of champion banjo player Roger Sprung who died last year at age 92. He developed what he called Progressive Bluegrass, as well as melding bluegrass with Irish music, which he dubbed Irish-Grass. The album he recorded with this titled has become a collector's item. And, he always loved to quote Kay Starr's famous comment, "It's hard to play a sad song on a banjo."
Bluegrass has made a huge comeback (if it ever left) in the past 25 years. In 1975 I went to what was then called a "Fiddler's Convention" (think Woodstock for Bluegrass musicians) in North Carolina with my friends who had a Christian band but were overall excellent musicians. Sometimes I sang with them. And the place was packed, even with a driving rain that never quit and the everyone camped out in tents. We finally got washed out, but I have great memories of that event, and the guys toting around the big bass in what looked like a "body bag" and ALL the music. I'll have to check out Sprung's Irish-Grass! My friend from the Christian band, by the way, turned entirely to Bluegrass and took up the mandolin, after being a guitarist all his youth. He also plays fiddle. He's worked steadily as a Bluegrass musician for the past 30 years. The music has great staying power.
I'm in awe of people who can play any instrument well. This was just a joy to listen to. Thanks, Debra, for this wonderful tribute to Earl Scruggs.
This one was so much fun to do. The more I read, the higher my estimation of Earl's music soared.
I’m going to have to break out my Flatt and Scruggs LP. Great post.
This summer I attended an after Bible school church social. There was a 4 piece band…guitar, upright bass, violin(fiddle), and banjo. The musicians played quite the variety of music while the kids and parents munched on pizza and cookies. The music was basically background and was mostly drowned out by all the excited chatter…UNTIL the band broke out Foggy Mt Breakdown. The munching and chatter ended, and the only audience noise was tapping feet.
I love to hear that!