Archive for the ‘Ramblings’ Category

The Future of Bluegrass?

Tuesday, August 10th, 2010

A national music magazine ran a column recently re. the future of bluegrass music.  I thought I’s share my thoughts here and ask for your comments as well.  The column began thusly:

Magazine editor: “It is not so much that I wish to contemplate the future of bluegrass, though it seems rather less assured that it did in the heady days following O Brother. ”

Bill Monroe / Doc Watson 1963

Bill Monroe / Doc Watson 1963

My reply: Thing is, the film “O Brother” (which I prefer to call “Big Brother”) didn’t have a lick o’ bluegrass in it! I thought T-Bone did a good job on the music, which was basically 1930s hillbilly music – the film was set in the 30s, and hired some of my friends to appear, but bluegrass it weren’t.

And that may be one of the “problems” with bluegrass music, it tends to confuse the music dilletantes just as jazz did when it evolved from a dance music to an intellectual exercise in the 1950s.  Certainly, when Monroe founded the style in the late 30s and 1940s, it took hold of its audience in the mainly rural atmosphere of the high south. In the 40s and 50s, it was a part of the general country sound and got country radio airplay with hardly any leakage into the cities. As the advent of rock & roll devastated the  dance-based country singers and bands, it forced the country bands to adopt electric instruments and drums.  Monroe (for the most part) resisted and kept to his own inspriations, much to his financial planner’s dismay.

Bill’s band The Blue Grass Boys, and the first generation of musical followers all were country folk with shared experiences and backgrounds. Of that first generation, Monroe was the *only* band leader to ever hire musical talent from the city. He was the only one with the vision to look beyond his own mileau to “help the music as it goes along” (as he told me more than once).

In more current times, the music media have had two contradictory effects: one was to make the early music more accessible (at least, to those who were searching); the other was to put increasing pressure on new groups in the genre to fit into the “contemporary” mode. Allison Krauss/The New River Band, etc. set a mold for recording and performing that has had hundreds if not thousands of imitators, some sucessful. The music has become “delicate”, with all-encompassing warbly vocals – all in the same set style, with virtuoso instrumental breaks played as if the artists were wearing white lab coats, gathering around the mic. There is little feeling, and absolutely no risk-taking.

Those first-generation bands could be identified within 2 bars of any song, each had their own sound. Now, we must rely on the FM radio DJ to read off the credits after a set of 6-10 identical-sounding, ultra-smooth and pablum-ish numbers. Such beautiful blending of 57 vocal tracks and wonderfuly subtle mastering! What’s happening to bluegrass is exactly what’s happening to most American culture – it’s being rounded off and smoothed out to death.  Music always reflects the culture from which it comes. It’s our own culture and society that have changed.

The future? Well, don’t put your money on a music originated by farmers.  Only the corporate combines are left.

-Peter

Memories of Eck Robertson

Saturday, December 26th, 2009

Recently, I traded e-mails with my friend David Holt of Ashville, NC, who still travels and performs with guitarist Doc Watson and others.  David had run across a reference in a book by British music historian and writer Tony Russell to Texas fiddler Eck Robertson, who is known as the person to make the first commercial recording of authentic country / old-time music.  David noted that a photograph I had taken in the 1960s was used in the book, and asked for a copy, along with any recollections of Eck when I met him.

Alexander Campbell "Eck" Robertson - Peter Feldmann photo

Alexander Campbell "Eck" Robertson - Peter Feldmann photo 1964.

Yes, I took that photo of Eck at UCLA in ’64, I believe. He was attending their 1964 folk festival with one of his sons. It was just
amazing to see him in person.  He was a true showman, and he loved to talk. He felt no compunction against telling everyone who would listen that he was the greatest fiddler, period. Actually, I still sort of agree with him on that (albeit that the concept “greatest” is a bit  absurd to my thinking). I have a mint copy of his Victor recording of “Sallie Gooden”. Every time I listen to it, I get this feeling of listening to a magic section of time; a miracle, if you will.  I am always transported to that early afternoon in New York City, July 1st, 1922, the day after he stormed the studio with his partner Henry Gilliland and demanded to be recorded.

Anyways, Eck did talk quite a bit, with great animation, about fiddling — demonstrating his lectures with short pieces of music. He was a bit frail, but when his fingers touched the fiddle, his bowing was still rock solid. He’d slowed down a bit, but the tone was still there. He had fashioned a leather strap that went from the end piece of the fiddle and circled around his neck — I suppose to help him hold it in place while he played. The thing is that, after playing a tune in demonstration, he would suddenly let go of his instrument and the fiddle would swing back and forth in front of his chest like the pendulum of a grandfather clock . . . while he continued his lecture — somewhat disconcerting to his listeners, though remaining oblivious to the impression he was creating for his audience! A real showman, as I mentioned.

My friend Byron Berline, who based his “Sally Goodin” on Eck’s version, met him at various contests that his dad would take him to. He recalled some of Eck’s antics (tossing the fiddle, balancing the bow on his nose, etc.) and mentioned that at one event, when Eck was due to perform on-stage in five minutes, Byron found him behind the stage with the fiddle completely disassembled; Eck was whittling on the bridge with a jackknife, completely unconcerned with the short time due before his performance.

I still consider Eck as one of the finest fiddlers that ever recorded, and still listen to his “Sallie Gooden” with amazement.

A brief encounter with fame and fortune…

Sunday, June 28th, 2009

Did a show with “Mother’s Boys” last night in Los Olivos, CA at the
local Grange hall. Just into the second set, news crews with cameras showed up at the door. It was ABC and NBC, up from LA, covering Michael Jackson’s death (he’d had his Neverland Ranch 5 miles up the road). Seeing as it was 9:30 in the PM, the entire rest of our town of 400 people was shut down & everybody except our hard core fans were already in bed.   We were doing the Carter song “Little Moses”. They listened for 2 minutes and you could read their faces: “Boys, we done walked into the wrong place!” They split, and our chance for our fifteen minutes of fame vanished just like that.
Mothers Boys: Peter Feldmann, David Jackson, Rick Cunha
Mother’s Boys: Peter Feldmann, David Jackson, Rick Cunha

“As seen on the TV.”

An encounter with Monroe, and beans…

Sunday, February 22nd, 2009

I responded today to a request on a bluegrass forum for a receipe for beans (I’ll add that in a comment below).  Dan Cook, who originated the request, replied:

Hey thanks Peter. I agree with you that simpler is better. I've been
getting recipes with carrots, celery, mashed potatoes, shredded chicken
and everything else. I just want tasty beans and maybe a little ham in
there.

Bill Monroe, Doc Watson, 1963, by Peter Feldmann

Bill Monroe, Doc Watson, 1963, by Peter Feldmann

By the way, I was listening to the old Bill Monroe & Doc Watson duet CD on Folkways the other day and noticed your name in the photo credits. Seeing them perform together must have been quite an experience. I was a latecomer to bluegrass music myself, never having been exposed to it until about 1984 or 1985 but Monroe and Watson were immediate favorites of mine. I had taken on a roommate who had a banjo and an enormous record collection. The 2 albums that caught my attention were _The High Lonesome Sound of Bill Monroe_ and a Doc Watson album whose title escapes me at the moment. I remember that parts of it at least were recorded live and included cuts of "Cypress Grove," "Darlin Cory," "Where I'm Bound," "Love Please Come Home," and an unusual rendering of "John Henry / Take This Hammer." Anyway, it was either Rinzler or Rosenberg who wrote the cover notes for the Monroe album and whet my appetite for bluegrass lore. I remember Monroe being described as a "terse Kentuckian" with an "intransigent spirit." I ended up buying my own copy of that album and having Monroe sign it just a couple of years later. I was taking my first few faltering steps as a rhythm guitar player and singer at the time. I'd taken the empty album jacket with me in the hopes of getting him to sign it. I was still not accustomed to the idea that fans could approach someone of Monroe's stature and I was very nervous. Bill was seated on the stairs at the side of the stage and when my turn came I wanted to say something to him besides just "please give me your autograph." The only thing I could think of was to ask him the lyrics to the chorus of "On My Back To The Old Home." (I knew about 5 songs at the time and that was one of them but the guys I was playing with couldn't agree on the lyrics in the chorus.) Bill asked me my name, signed the record cover and extended his arm as if to shake my hand. I'll never forget what he did next. He grabbed my hand and then my arm, pulled me toward him and sang the chorus into my ear from a distance of about 6 inches. I've heard all kinds of stories about Bill's physical strength and it's true, he had a grip like a vise on my hand and arm.It was a weird, riveting moment for me. When he released me, he made some kind of remark about making sure I played plenty of bluegrass on the radio. I was so startled by the greeting that I didn't really pay any attention to the radio remark until several minutes later. It was only then that I realized that he had seen an envelope sticking out of my shirt pocket with the logo and call letters of the local radio station that had comped me the tickets to the show. Even at that late stage of his career and in declining health, he was still remarkably strong and mentally sharp. It must have been something to see him in 1963! Dan

From Tom Dula to Tom Dooley – 50 years…

Tuesday, December 23rd, 2008

Visiting a bluegrass discussion list this week (“BGRASS-L, U. of KY>) reminded me that this year marks the 50th anniversary of the Kingston Trio’s hit Tom Dooley on Capitol Records.  Many use this event to mark the beginning of the so-called “Folk Revival”, but that actually goes back to at least another 25 years or so.

At any rate, the original song, Tom Dula, about a civil war veteran who murders for love, has long been claimed to be written by the grandfather of singer and instrument maker Frank Proffitt, who lived near a tiny town, Reese, NC. that doesn’t even exist any longer.  Frank farmed tobacco and built mountain dulcimers and fretless five-string banjos out of maple he often cut himself from the hills surrounding his farmland.

Frank Proffitt, 1962, Peter Feldmann, photo

Frank Proffitt, 1962, Peter Feldmann, photo

While I was working in Chicago at the Field Museum in 1962, Frank came up north for a 4-day visit and a concert at the Old Town School of Folk Music. I got to spend these four days with him, taking him on tours and learning a little about the way he picked banjo, guitar, and dulcimer.  Frank was a very gracious guest and especially enjoyed the Field Museum’s huge collection of wild animal skins from around the world, house in two large rooms on the 4th floor of the building, far away from the general public.  There was even a rinocerous skin, folded into a bale-sized lump and stiffend to woodlike hardness from the time it was contributed to the museum by Teddy Roosevelt in 1906.  Frank talked about using groundhog skin for his banjo heads, saying it was pretty good but that cat skin was by far the best — though his wife refused to let him use it!  Anyways, the story goes that Tom Dula, recorded by Proffitt via collector Frank Warner, was found by the Trio and used as a basis for their hit.  Alan Lomax also published the song in his “Folksongs of North America”.

Frank Proffitt & Flemming Brown, Chicago, 1962

Frank Proffitt & Flemming Brown, Chicago, 1962

Funny, fifty years doesn’t really seem like so long ago . . .

King Records of Cincinatti

Saturday, March 1st, 2008

King 719

I recently came across a great article, very detailed, on the old King Records label, founded in the 1950s by the legendary Syd Nathan. The piece, by Cincinnati music critic and sometimes bluegrass bassist Larry Nager, covers the entirety of the spectrum of musical styles issued by King through the years, from blues, R&B, country, to bluegrass.  The Stanley Brothers’ album pictured above, King 719, Includes Finger-Poppin’ Time and How Mountain Girls Can Love.

King Record lable

Click here for the article’s URL. Once there, you may be asked for a username, e-mail address, and password. Type in anything you like,  but use the password: “yum”. It’s worth the effort!

NASCAR and Sea Gulls

Tuesday, February 12th, 2008

JOHN TIERNEY’s column in today’s New York Times on NASCAR’s flirtation with aerodynamics reminded me of my father’s (Fritz Feldmann) pre-WW II studies of migrating gulls at the ETH (Swiss Federal Institute of Technology) in Zurich, where he obtained his PhD in aeronautical engineering.

He noticed that birds on long distance flights use a V – formation for a
reason similar to that of race cars keeping in the “shadow” of the
leading vehicle: a calming of turbulence, plus the slight compression
of air caused by the leading bird’s wing stroke. Thus the leading bird
does more work during flight. He found that the task of leading the
“V” was shared in rotation among the flock, as the lead bird tired,
another took its place.